September 18, Wednesday

Three days pass and Madrasta only leaves the bedroom to go to the toilet house outside and stays in there a long time when she does. She doesn’t speak to anyone, just walks slowly holding her tummy. The sisters from church are in and out of the house taking turns helping, bringing me sheets and rags and diapers to wash and taking food to Madrasta. Papai is going to work as usual. I make him café and he says thank you, but stares out the window and hardly eats anything. He is working long hours these days and comes home for lunch, then doesn’t come home until late evening.

After lunch today Papai asks me to go to the bedroom to take a plate to Madrasta. Then he goes to the door, puts on his hat and leaves the house. I stand outside the bedroom door with the food. None of the church sisters are here now.

“Senhora, may I enter? Papai asked me to bring you a plate.”

She clears her throat. “Yes, you can come in.”

She is sitting up in bed giving the baby mamar. A blanket covers her shoulder and the baby. She looks around for a place for the plate, but she can’t hold the baby and eat at the same time.

“Senhora, do you want me to hold the baby while you eat? I’m good at holding little babies, I’ll be careful.”

She looks around like she doesn’t want me to help her, but then takes a deep breath, takes the baby off her chest and hands her to me, wrapped in the blanket. I pick up the baby and hold her to my shoulder, patting her back to burp her. Madrasta puts her legs over the side of the bed and begins to eat from the plate I put on the bedside table. She is very hungry, eating really fast.

“Senhora, may I sit down in the chair?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I sit down and put the baby’s head back on my elbow, to let her lie across my lap. I almost stop breathing when I see her. She has soft black curly hair, so much of it! And then she opens her eyes and squints at me. Her skin is warm brown and her eyes are as dark as the stones at the edge of the river when there is water.

“Senhora, she is beautiful!”

Madrasta turns to me and her eyes fill with tears. “Do you think so?”

“Oh yes, Senhora. She is so beautiful. What is her name?”

She wipes her eyes and sniffs like she isn’t crying. “I don’t know yet. Your father will have to decide. I haven’t even asked him yet.”

I stroke the baby’s cheek and she tilts her head toward my hand, opening her little pink mouth. I look up at Madrasta.

“Senhora, Sunday was my birthday. My sister and I have the same birthday.”

Madrasta pushes her eyebrows together. She speaks very quietly. “Yes, she is your sister.”