October 14, Monday

My first day back at work. It seems like years since I entered this kitchen. I am a different person but I have to act like I’m the same. I mentally put on a mask with a smile as I stash my things in my locker and change into my work uniform.

Altamira is already busy with prep but she gives me a big hug and kisses me. “Querida, we have missed you. The kitchen isn’t the same without you.”

Teresa looks over at me with her usual sneer. “Oh, hello, Eva, how was your vacation?”

“Some day I will take a vacation. But I’m fine, thank you, Teresa.” A silly person like Teresa can’t get a rise out of me.

Chef Orlando comes out of his office. “Welcome back, we missed you!”

“I missed you all too, and it’s good to be back.” It’s partially true.

I throw myself into the rhythm of work and the day passes quickly with no time to dwell on my worries. We are cleaning up from service and beginning prep for tomorrow when the major who is chief of operations for the entire complex, including the dining service for the officers, enters the kitchen. We all stand at attention even though we are civilians.

He goes to Chef’s office and looks in at the doorway. The major is dark-haired and as handsome as a movie star in his crisp uniform. He closes the office door and the major and Chef have a brief conversation.

The door opens and the major says over his shoulder, “I’ll expect that budget a week from today. Please address the overspend and have proposals for improvement.”

As he heads toward the door he looks over at me briefly, and I wonder if some of us will be let go to cut the budget. I need this job now that Luiz isn’t working. My blood boils with anger at what they did to Luiz but I can’t betray those feelings.

When I arrive home the boys are over at Sónia’s and Luiz is in our darkened bedroom, with the lights off and a pillow over his head.

I sit down next to him on the bed as softly as I can and speak quietly. “Querido, another one of those headaches?”

He grunts a yes. I go to the kitchen and get ice and a cloth and put it on his neck, and give him aspirin. “I’m going to make you a café, my father always says it helps a bad headache.”

He manages a few sips and he seems a little better in a couple of hours.

“I know a headache is coming when I see sparks of light.” He rolls over and groans.

“I know, querido, and noise and light make it worse. I’ll keep it dark and quiet and it will pass.”

In a few hours Luiz is feeling a bit better, sitting up on the bed. I kiss him on the cheek and adjust the pillows. “Querido, I think it would be good to see a doctor. You’re getting these headaches every few days.”

“You can’t trust doctors. The last doctor I saw was there to check me and see if those guys could continue the electric shocks. To make sure I wasn’t almost dead. He told them I could handle more without dying. No doctors. Never.”

His vehemence takes my breath away. “All right, querido. No doctors.”

These moments when he gives me glimpses of what happened are rare, but they are like a knife to my soul. Sometimes I don’t know how we are going on day to day, pretending things are normal. But we do it for the children, and because there’s nothing else we can do.