Hermosa

Dear diary, I hate it here.

Dinner was awkward, eating rice and chicken with a side of green beans. I know my mother didn't make it, the rice wasn’t burnt, the green beans weren’t soggy, and the chicken wasn't undercooked, the meal wasn't over or under seasoned. It was good. Papa made it.

She can’t even make meals for her guests.

Papa sat to my right as mother sat to my left, Tigre would be under my chair but he wasn't here. He was sitting alone while neighbors came to take care of him. My poor boy.

My distaste for my mother only strengthened as she was the reason I was away from my beloved dog. She ruins everything. She ruined a lot of things.

Mother barely batted an eye at me, well small glances, but they weren't enough.

Papa was the only one keeping the conversations going, the very small conversations of single word replies. Papa really tried his hardest, but I didn't care to try.

Why should I, the child, be the responsible one then the parent? It made no sense, she made no sense. I looked at my mother and frowned, pathetic woman she was. Can you believe her, diary?

I looked back at Papa, he had that rehearsed smile like earlier and I was annoyed by it too. I wanna go nap or be hidden in my pretend room so I can avoid all of this.

“Papa, can I go to my room? Quiero dormir.”

Papa looked at me and smiled with love, it wasn’t rehearsed, and he frowned, “¿Por qué hermosa? ¿qué ocurre? ¿No te estás sintiendo bien?”

“No es nada, solo caminar y hablar me agota, eso es todo. ¿puedo ir?”

“Actually, mama and papa wanna discuss something with you before you go to bed.”

What is Papa talking about? Can it wait? I’m tired of being around such draining personalities. Papa trying too hard for a woman that doesn’t make an effort is draining to witness.

“What is it about?”

Mother looked at me and smiled, it didn’t feel right to see her smile. It was weird. “You’ll be staying the whole weekend with me, mother daughter activities together.”

My heart sank. No. No. I don’t wanna be with you. I don’t wanna be near you. I hate being in this house already with you, breathing your air, smelling a perfume I’m not familiar with, a face that is hardly recognizable if it wasn’t for the pictures papa had lying around. I don’t like you.

I feel my face scrunch up, the bridge of my nose scrunching like I smelled something rotting; my lips turn to pout as I make eye contact with my mother’s brown eyes. “Why?” Is all I can bear to say. I turn my gaze back to Papa, tears threatening to fall. They only swelled up at the rims as my eyesight became blurry.

“What do you mean why? Your mama wants to connect with you, so you’ll both have a day together.”

“Just us? What about you? Are you gonna be there?”

I beg, I plea. I don’t wanna be alone with her. I want my Papa. “Actually my love, the office needs me and I have some errands I need to run, and it’s going to take some time, half a week or at most a week.

My heart sank.

It’s sinking.

The trust is sinking. Papa wouldn’t do this to me. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t leave me with a woman I hate so much. He just wouldn’t. Who are you?

My mind raced, “um, ok- uh what about my Tigre?”

“He’s going to stay at the pound for a bit.” Her aggravating voice had me snap my head at her, till I realized what she said. “He’s staying at the pound? What do you mean by that?” I looked at her, just full of disgust, then I turned to Papa, he looked at me and looked sad to see my pitiful state. “Only for the week, I had one of the neighbors take him, Mrs. Brown.”

“I want my dog.” I say.

“Hermosa… mama doesn’t want him in her house, so he's staying at the pound.” He went to reach his large hand out for mine, trying to soothe me with a touch. I snatched my hand away looking at both adults with disgust, one I loved deeply and adored the most and the other, a strained stranger that I believe to have no connection to, gang up on me.

“Stop calling her mama, she’s my mother, not my mama. She doesn’t deserve that precious word.” I blurt out.

“I want my dog. I want my dog! I want my goddamn dog!” I say louder each time. “He can stay in the backyard at least. That’s all that I want.”

Papa looked surprised that I had talked ill of my mother in such a way, but I didn’t care, I want my goddamn dog.

“Gabi, I need you to understand, your mother doesn’t want him here.” My face can only scrunch up so much, it’s starting to hurt by how much muscles it’s taking to keep myself from crying.

“Then I’ll just stay at the house, you’ve left me alone for 3 days at a time for those stupid meetings. You can leave for a week. It’s fine. I won’t answer the door and I’ll ask Mrs. Brown if I can go over. It’s fine, see? It’ll work out.” I smile and ramble on and on with tears that swelled at the rims of my eyes. I was giving solutions after solutions, but he just looked at me with pity and worry.

I want to be with my dog, I want to be at home, I don’t want to be with her. Anybody else but her, please papa.

“I’m sorry to say this, but that’s not happening. Hermosa, you need to understand that, ok?” He smiled after breaking my heart. It shattered with a simple sentence and he smiled. I know it was full of love and warmth and care, but it didn’t feel that way. I was denied my dog.

All because of you.

I looked at my mother, I can sense this is awkward for her. “I’m going to bed.” I placed my fork down with a gentle shove, I stood up from my chair and shoved it harshly towards the table.

And now here I am, writing in you, my precious diary. It’s been hours after that argument and now I’m sitting on my bed with a locked door. This isn’t what a nine year old should go through. Not even close.

I finally close my dairy after putting down the entire argument and look at my ceiling. Should I run away? Just Tigre and I wandering around Nueva York. It would be simpler. Just him and I.

I tossed and turned all night. How could I get through the night without my beloved dog? My mind began to spiral.

I want my papa.

I get out of my bed and slip on my slippers that have bunny ears attached to them, the only good gift she gave me. I unlock my door and head out to my papa's room, he and mother slept in different rooms, they aren’t as close as they used to be.

Mothers room is at the end of the hall and Papa is to the left of her room.

I peek my head out looking around, it’s dark, only the moon that leaks through the windows brings light. I see my mother's room and I see cracks of lip leaking from under the door, it was a soft hue of orange, probably a lamp.

I looked at papa's door, pitch black, no light found. I quietly stepped over, small and slow steps and small taps took over the hallway, everything sounded louder at night.

As I came to the door I heard mumbles. My papa's voice along with my mothers in Spanish.

“Ay coño- just watch her for the week.”

“Don’t ‘ay coño’ me. You never ask for favors, so why this time, you know that kid-“

“This shouldn’t be a favor. She’s your daughter and her name is Gabriella.”

My mother made a loud sigh. She never really cared to bond with me. Apparently it was something after pregnancy, she could never look at me the same.

“Well whatever, she doesn’t like me and you know it. Didn’t she say you would leave for three days and she would be perfectly fine? Why not make it a week this time.”

“Because this time is different.”

“You're being weird Miguel. Are you really going to a meeting? The office?”

Papa was silent. He doesn’t like answering idiots.

“Then where are you going behind her back? My back?”

“Your back? Your back faced me when you left. I stayed.”

“I left because I wasn’t happy… and neither were you. I know you weren’t, having that clingy little bi-“

I heard clattering; my ear now fully against the door. What happened? I heard my mother gasp.

“Don’t say that about her; she’s my pride and joy.”

“Let go Miguel!”

“Càllate la maldita boca.” Papa’s voice was loud and full of rage, but I can tell he tried to keep it low, for me who he thought was sound asleep.

My heart dropped, mother's voice sounded strained, like she wanted air.

I back away from the door and look at it. Shocked. What was papa doing? I put my fist out ready to knock but I heard a thud.

“Fuck- fuck you Miguel! I didn’t want that child! I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life! I fuckin hate you!”

I heard a slap and a low groan. Did she slap Papa?

“Keep your voice down, my Hermosa is asleep. We’ll discuss this mañana.” I heard papa say out.

“No! We’ll talk about this now! I don’t know who the hell you think you are to put your hands around me like that! You’ve never done that before! Who the hell do you think you are!?”

It was quiet. My silent breath was the only thing I could hear. My ear was pressed to the door at this point in time. This was all new and strange. What is happening? I’m truly lost.

“I’m the person keeping you around. So I suggest you listen to whatever the fuck I say and go with it.” Papa said.

I gasp.

I know it was loud, because everything went quiet. I heard footsteps get closer to Mothers door, and I ran back as silently as I could back to my room. I know my feet left small echos, I know I stumbled as I got to my door and shut it louder than I did earlier. All mistakes.

I hop to my bed and dig myself into the covers. Grabbing the stuffed animal on my bed and hugging it pretending to be asleep. I heard footsteps, heavy ones. My Papa’s footsteps. They were heavy and sometimes they dragged if he was tired. Or he stomped when he was mad.

I look to the bottom of my door. Watching a shadow stand at the door. Just standing there. Lingering.

Papa didn’t move for about five minutes straight till he went back to the direction he came from.

I sigh with relief.

Then I wept; I wept silently to myself and buried my head into my pillow. I wept in a home I was not welcomed into. I wept into a room I did not know about hours ago. I wept in a dark and empty four walled room that has no significance to me; I want to go home. I want to see my dog. I want to go to a place that makes me happy.