Saturday Night
Marissa Garcia went to bed more to avoid her mother-in-law than because she was tired. She didn’t know how she would ever rest peacefully again, without Julio at her side.
It was too early to sleep, and she stared at the wall, her hand on her stomach. Tears came again, silent tears, as the impact of Julio’s death hit her. Her baby would never know her father. Her baby would never know what an amazing, honorable, loyal, loving man Julio was.
Marissa didn’t know how she was going to move on.
She may have dozed, because when she opened her eyes it wasn’t light—but it was still only nine in the evening. Her face was sticky from her tears. She sat up and stared at the picture of her, Julio, and Dario on the wall—right next to their wedding picture. Marissa loved Julio with all her heart. Her heart that was now shattered into a million pieces. She would never be able to put it back together.
The baby rolled, then settled, and Marissa rubbed her large stomach. They hadn’t planned to peek at the baby’s gender, but she had some early complications, and when the doctor asked if they wanted to know boy or girl, she and Julio said yes. Then they could paint the small room to fit the baby. She chose a soft yellow, then her sister Anna painted one wall with yellow, blue, and pink flowers. Whimsical, happy flowers with a flying robin and a buzzing bee and a cheerful ladybug.
Julio and Anna had surprised her with the room only last month, and Marissa couldn’t have been more tickled. She recognized then that she had been selfish for her frustration when Beatrice moved in after breaking her ankle. Julio’s mother needed help, and Julio was the only one of her children who had stayed in San Antonio. The other six had moved far and wide—three went to Houston, two joined the military, and one went to Seattle for an important computer job. Sandra had said that it was because Beatrice was impossible and everyone had to get far from her. Marissa felt guilty that she had laughed, because it was true.
“Julio is a saint, you know that,” Sandra had said. “But don’t let that woman live here forever. She would drive Mother Teresa to drink.”
The truth was that Julio was working extra hours, but not because Marissa wanted him to. He was earning money to put a manufactured house on the edge of their five-acre property for his mother. Beatrice didn’t know that, Marissa suspected she planned on never leaving their house, but Julio wanted to help and support his mother while also making sure she didn’t come between him and Marissa.
“Mi madre is difficult. I will tell her to find an apartment.”
“No. She can’t afford it. She’s family.”
“My love, you are my family. She’s too hard on you. I’ve told her to stop being critical, but she doesn’t know better.”
She did—Beatrice just chose to be obstinate. But Julio loved his mother. She was difficult, but she had raised seven children after her husband died in a construction accident. She had worked two jobs and they lived in a three-bedroom one-bath house in south San Antonio and not one of her children turned to crime or drugs. She favored Julio and didn’t believe that Marissa—probably didn’t believe that any woman—was good enough for him. But Marissa was the one who was pregnant before marriage. Beatrice had once told her that she trapped Julio.
Marissa had never told Julio that. He would have never spoken to his mother again.
And it wasn’t like that at all. She and Julio were engaged. And Marissa didn’t plan to get pregnant. She didn’t want to get pregnant … it wasn’t her fault.
But Dario was a gift, and she loved Julio more with every passing day.
“What about one of those trailers?” Julio said. “The ones with a foundation, like Robert’s parents live in. We have five acres here. She can have her own place, but still be close. When I go back to work, it would be good to have her nearby to watch the children.” Beatrice loved Dario with all her heart; she spoiled him, but was also strict. Though Marissa had problems with her mother-in-law, she appreciated that she wanted to babysit and help them save money.
Julio rubbed her stomach. “Are you sure that wouldn’t be too close?”
“Well, truly, yes, but I can compromise.”
He smiled at her, kissed her. “How are you feeling this evening, my queen?”
“I’ve missed you, my king.” She kissed him warmly and they went to bed, never thinking that three months later Julio would be dead.
Marissa jumped when someone knocked lightly on her door. She wiped the new trail of tears from her face and said, “Come in.”
Sandra entered. “Anna is going to sleep in Dario’s room with him.”
“Dario can come in here, with me.”
“They’re already asleep, Issa.” Sandra sat next to her on the bed. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Some.”
“You need to tell the police about Chris.”
“What? No. No—you promised—no.” The mention of that man’s name turned her blood cold.
“Someone killed Julio. If Chris figured out—”
“No! Just—no. Please, Sandra, no.” Christopher Smith was an awful man, but he wouldn’t kill anyone. He wouldn’t kill Julio. They had once been best friends.
“I saw Chris at the hotel,” Julio had said many weeks ago, shortly after they found out Baby Bump was a girl. “I wanted to hurt him.”
“He’s b-back?”
“He won’t be staying for long. I promise. I will never let him hurt you again, Marissa.”
Sandra stared at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She shook her head.
“We’ll talk about this later, Marissa.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Please, Sandra—not tonight. Not tonight.” She started sobbing again, and her big sister held her tight.
“I am sorry, Issa. I am so, so sorry about Julio.”
Marissa accepted Sandra’s embrace, but just the mention of Chris instilled fear into her heart.
Could he have killed Julio?
Marissa didn’t want to believe it.
But now that Sandra had opened Pandora’s box, Marissa couldn’t stop thinking about what might slither out.