One of the babies was not growing as expected.
Dr. Salinas became concerned and ordered near-complete bed rest.
My mother moved into the apartment to help care for me.
Diego asked whether he could contribute.
I agreed, but only from outside the home.
He could buy groceries.
Collect medication.
Make payments.
Transfer money.
But he could not return to my bed.
He could not move back into the house.
And he could not use practical assistance to pretend our marriage had been repaired.
One day, he arrived carrying diapers and a bag of sweet bread.
My mother answered the door.
“Can I see her?” he asked.
“She can see you whenever she wants to.”
“I am her husband.”
My mother laughed dryly.
“Son, you unsubscribed yourself.”
I heard the exchange from my bedroom.
For the first time in several days, I smiled.
I was exhausted.
My body was uncomfortable.
Every medical appointment carried a mixture of hope and fear.
