I need to swim. To move. I need to see sunshine. Open a window. That little square of light isn’t doing it, and besides, it’s been raining. I swear it feels like it always rains at this house.

But he said I’d get to see my dad today. And I feel like Santiago is a man who keeps his word.

I close the tube of salve I’ve been instructed to put on my tattoo and am up as soon as the door opens, the pain on the bottoms of my feet finally gone. That was two strokes. How had he taken more? What had he said when his back had been crisscrossed? When his feet opened up when he walked?

God. Is that how his father punished him? What a horrible man. Yet he has a photograph of him on the chapel altar.

I don’t understand my husband. He’s a complete mystery.

“Good morning, dear,” Antonia says cheerily, although I always notice that little bit of concern when she comes in here in the mornings and shifts her gaze nervously around the room, looking me over. I wonder what she’s looking for. A noose maybe. After only three days, I’m ready to hang myself, but I don’t need rope for that. I’m pretty sure I could hang myself on the end of this rosary that’s nestled against my bare skin. I’ve got it tucked under my sweater, and I’ve only taken it off to shower and sleep.

I know she doesn’t like locking the door. She’s said as much. But it’s what the Master wants.

The Master.

I roll my eyes at his formality. His arrogance.

“Morning, Antonia. Do you know if the car is ready to take me to see my father?” I ask her anxiously. I’m not really hungry, so I ignore the tray she sets down.

“Settle down, Miss. It’s early yet.”

“What time is it? If I had a clock, I’d know.” But my husband won’t even allow me that.

“Ms. Mercedes will be the one taking you to see your father, and she doesn’t rise until noon some days.”

“Noon?”

“Sit down and eat. Santiago wants to be sure you’re fed and so do I. I don’t want you falling down again.”

I sit, slouching, one elbow on the table as she pours me coffee out of a silver pot.

“I’ll tell you what, though. Once you’ve eaten, I’ll take you downstairs and show you around. I don't see the harm in you waiting for Mercedes downstairs.”

I look up at her, hopeful and as excited as a kid at Christmas. It’s ridiculous if I think about it, but I check myself.

“Will you get in trouble if you do that, Antonia?”

“Let me worry about that.”