Page 64 of Sweet Little Lies
I turn then, my tongue sharp and my eyes blazing. “Alberto, I do not want you to be the father of my children. Not now and not ever. I’m sorry if you think otherwise, but I want you to leave me alone. I’m in a relationship with someone else and I’m not interested in marrying you.”
He chuffs at this as if it’s absurd. “That is not what your parents have told me. They believe you are intended for me. And I’ve agreed to wait for you until you’re done with school. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun now,chica. I don’t care about this ‘gringo’ you’ve been dating. He is nothing. He can’t take care of you like I can.”
Alberto licks his lips and grins, his stained teeth exposed when his upper lip curls up.
Now I’m just mad. Although I still have the baby in my arms, I spin around and try to make myself appear bigger than I really am.
“First of all, I am fully capable of taking care of myself and don’t need any help from the likes of you or anyone else for that matter Secondly, when I have children, it will be with someone I love and respect. And frankly, that is not you. If you so much as lay another hand on me ever again, my father and my brothers and cousins will be notified, and you won’t be able to lift a wrench in your garage for months. Do yourself a favor and leave now.”
My entire body shakes as I hustle the kids back into the house, as they whine at how mean I am for making them go. But I don’t care. I just want to gain distance from Alberto so I can catch my breath and stop the bile from reaching my throat.
Pushing into the back doorway, I hand the baby off to my sister and run into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water in my face. All I want right now is to have Lance wrap his arms around me and hold me.
But he’s not here and that spikes my anger even further. I don’t normally succumb to irritation or frustration, but today is not a good day.
Pulling out my phone, I decide to call Lance. I need to talk to him. I need to see him.
The phone rings, and rings, and rings. It goes to voicemail twice. But I’m not deterred. I call again.
Finally, he answers.
But it’s not him. It’s some other male voice that I don’t recognize.
“Yo, what up?”
I check the phone display to make sure I indeed dialed his number correctly in my haste, and it says Lance on the screen.
My confusion mounts as my silence remains and the guy seemingly gets more irritated.
“You’ve got two seconds to tell me what you want.”
“Uh, I’m looking for Lance. Is he around?”
There’s a low chuckle. “Yeah, sweetheart, he’s here somewhere.”
My annoyance is now at a record high. My blood boils.
“Can you please get him for me?”
There are voices in the background, some shuffling, laughter, music. It sounds like the guy is walking now, maybe up some stairs. I can hear him breathing into the line. Then a door cracking open.
Muffled voices. Then the guy says, “Lance, dude, wake up. You okay?”
There’s silence.
More silence.
Then the guy’s voice is higher. Louder. Panicked.
“Yo, bro. Wake the fuck up.”
The phone is obviously dropped on the floor, because then I hear shouts. Calls for help. People entering the room. More shouts. Loud noise.
“Hello? Hello?” I scream into the phone in a shrill voice.
I have no idea if anyone can hear me. All I know is there’s a commotion on the other end of the line and it sounds like there are at least three or four people in the room. Bile rises in my throat. I hear someone yell ‘someone call a fucking ambulance!’
What?
