PART 2
Three months after that argument, Mariana was sitting in the bathroom with a pregnancy test in her hand. The two lines appeared so clearly that the air left her lungs.
She didn’t cry tears of joy. Nor fear. She just sat still, as if someone had switched on a light in a room she didn’t want to look at.
Mrs. Elvira pounded on the door. “What are you doing in there? Are you hiding so you don’t have to help?”
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Mariana opened the door and showed her the test. “I’m pregnant.”
The mother-in-law screamed so loudly that even the neighbors must have heard. “My grandson! Finally, this house will have an heir!”
Mariana lowered her hand. “It’s still very early. Don’t make a scene.”
But Mrs. Elvira was already calling half the world. That night, Roger looked at the test on the table. “I’m happy. My mom will finally stop bothering us.”
Mariana felt a pang of sadness. “Is that all it means to you?”
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Roger went quiet. “Let’s not confuse things. This baby doesn’t mean there is love between us.”
She replied without blinking: “Don’t worry. I don’t need your love, either. I need you to step up as a father.”
For a few weeks, the house seemed to calm down. Mrs. Elvira brought her juices, asked if she had cravings, and even feigned tenderness in front of guests. But soon, the real Elvira returned. “Being pregnant isn’t being sick. I carried buckets when I was eight months along, and here I am.”
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Mariana gritted her teeth and kept working, paying her own bills, and taking care of her pregnancy alone.
Then, Lucy returned to Chicago. The news appeared on social media: divorced, elegant, smiling, available again. Roger started grooming himself more, wearing new cologne, and checking his phone in secret. One afternoon, Mariana saw a message on the screen:
“Do you still remember the coffee shop we used to go to?”
She read it out loud. “How considerate your ‘work meeting’ is. She even remembers your little coffee dates.”
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Roger snatched the phone from her. “Don’t meddle in my business.” “I didn’t meddle. It lit up all on its own.”
Mrs. Elvira took the opportunity to attack. “If a man looks outside, it’s because he finds no affection at home. Lucy was sweet, not like others who are cold as stone.”
Mariana put her fork down on her plate. “Then go find her and beg her to come back. Although, I think she already preferred to marry someone else once before.”
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Roger slammed the table. “That’s enough!” “No. That’s enough of you. Your mother compares your pregnant wife to your ex, and you still want me to bow my head.”
Two days later, Mariana found Roger sitting on the bed, destroyed. The phone was on. Lucy had just written to him:
“Roger, don’t look for me anymore. What we had ended years ago. Just because I got divorced doesn’t mean I want to get back with you.”
Mariana felt a strange mix of mockery and compassion. “The door got slammed in your face.”
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Roger covered his face. “I’m tired, Mariana. Of my mom, of Lucy, of you, of me. Can we live in peace even if we don’t love each other?”
She looked at him coldly. “You don’t ask for peace after setting the house on fire.”
From then on, Roger changed a little. He spoke less, helped more, and seemed ashamed. But Mrs. Elvira became worse, as if she blamed Mariana for taking control of her son away from her.
When Mariana reached seven months of pregnancy, the commemoration of Roger’s father’s passing arrived. Mrs. Elvira organized a huge lunch: pozole, mole, rice, carnitas, salsas, desserts, and nearly 30 relatives.
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From 6:00 a.m., Mariana was on her feet. “Wash the chilies. Stir the mole. Serve the water. Heat the tortillas. Sweep the patio.”
Roger tried to intervene. “Mom, Mariana can’t be standing for that long anymore.” “Oh, don’t be a henpecked husband. Women in my day could handle it, and here I am.”
Mariana felt her legs turning to stone. In the middle of the afternoon, she sat in a plastic chair for just 5 minutes. Mrs. Elvira stormed out.
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“Look at her! Everyone working, and the lady is resting like a queen. What an embarrassing daughter-in-law!”
Mariana looked up. “I’ve been on my feet since dawn. I’m pregnant, I’m not your servant.”
The patio went silent. Mrs. Elvira walked toward her, trembling with rage, and slapped her, making her face turn.
“You respect me, you wretch.”
Mariana put her hand to her cheek. Something inside her broke. She stood up, pushed the nearest table, and the plates fell to the ground with a crash. The guests screamed. Roger ran from the entrance.
