“And do you remember anything from when you were babies?” Eduardo pressed, his hands visibly trembling, obsessively scrutinizing every detail of the children’s angelic faces, searching for new similarities. “We almost remember,” Mateo said, shaking his head sadly. “Marcia always said that we were born with another brother on the same day, but he stayed with our dad because he was stronger and healthier. And we stayed with her because we needed special care.”
Pedro opened his green eyes wide, with the expression Eduardo knew all too well: a mixture of sadness and terrifying understanding, the kind that appeared when he solved a difficult problem. “Dad, they’re talking about me, aren’t they? I’m the brother who stayed with you because I was stronger, and they’re my brothers who stayed with…” Eduardo had to brace himself against the rough wall with both hands to keep from collapsing. The pieces of the most terrible puzzle of his life were fitting together brutally and defiantly before his eyes.
Patricia’s extremely complicated pregnancy, her constantly elevated blood pressure, the threats of premature birth, the traumatic labor lasting over eighteen hours, the severe hemorrhage, the desperate moments when doctors fought tirelessly to save both mother and child. He vaguely remembered the doctors endlessly discussing serious complications, difficult medical choices, and who could be saved. He remembered Patricia dying slowly in his arms, whispering broken words he hadn’t understood at the time, but which tore at his heart.
And he remembered Marcia perfectly, ever-present at the hospital during those days, always on the lookout, asking precise questions about the procedures and what would happen to the children in case of serious complications or the mother’s death. « Lucas, Mateo, » said Eduardo, his voice trembling and breaking, as tears streamed freely down his face without him trying to hold them back, « would you like to come home, take a nice hot bath, and eat something delicious? »
The two children exchanged a glance, with that instinctive, acquired anguish of those whom cruel circumstances have forced to believe, in the worst possible way, that all adults wished them harm. They had spent entire days on dangerous streets, exposed to all sorts of risks, violence, and exploitation. « You’re not going to hurt us after this, are you? » Lucas asked in a small, frightened voice that betrayed both desperate hope and irrational fear.
“Never, I promise,” Pedro replied immediately, before his father could even open his mouth, straightening up and holding out his two small hands to Lucas and Mateo. “My dad is very kind and very loving. He takes very good care of me every day, and he can take care of you too, like a real family.”
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