TIMING: february 24, 2017. FEATURING: rosa cortez, juliana cortez, elena cortez, and the grand first appearance of flora cortez. LOCATION: emilio's living room and bedroom in mexico. SUMMARY: emilio gets a pep talk from his sister just before being thrust into fatherhood. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!
24 FEBRUARY 2017.
The living room was relatively small, comparatively speaking. It took Emilio twenty steps to pace from one wall to the other. Less if he lengthened his stride. He’d gotten it down to twelve once, with steps so wide it was a little embarrassing. He did it in seventeen now, shuffling the last one as he took a breath. One hand came up to his head, tangling in his hair as he glanced to the bedroom door.
The door to the outside opened, sunlight streaming in behind Rosa as she stepped in and shut the door behind her. She looked taken aback to see him there, crossing the room to meet him in the middle with eight long steps. He wondered, absently, if she could pace the length of the living room in less than twelve, if this, too, was something she was better at. He pushed the thought aside. Stupid. It was stupid. Everything seemed so stupid.
“What are you doing out here, Milio? Did something…?” She glanced to the bedroom door, and he shook his head quickly.
“Everything’s okay, I think. ‘Ana just kicked me out. Said I was stressing her out more than the rest of it.”
Rosa snorted. “I’d believe it. You were bad enough with me when it was Jaime. Can’t imagine how much worse you are now.”
“I forgot it was like that. Looks more like a battlefield.”
“No it doesn’t.” Rosa’s smile was small, sly. “You’d know what to do on a battlefield.”
Emilio snorted, some of the tension leaving his chest because Rosa was good at that. They didn’t always get along — that was the nature of siblings, he knew, especially siblings in such constant competition with one another — but when they did, his sister always knew exactly what to say to tame the tangled web of his thoughts. Better than Edgar did, better than Victor had ever gotten a chance to try. The only one who might challenge her for top spot in the game of knowing how to settle Emilio’s uneasy mind was Rhett, and the warden wasn’t here now.
Gently, Rosa nudged his shoulder with hers. “You should go in.”
“She kicked me out,” Emilio reminded her. “She doesn’t want me in there.”
“She does. She’s stressed and in pain and probably a little bit terrified, but she wants you there. She married your dumb ass, didn’t she? She chose to get stuck with you. The rest of us just had you tacked on.” The words stung a little; the teasing was a little too close to the truth, he knew. Emilio, in comparison to his siblings, was unnecessary and often unwanted.
But not to Juliana.
“Any final words of wisdom before I step back into the thick of it?” He raised a brow, smiling faintly and pretending her words didn’t sting, pretending nothing did. Rosa had the good grace to do the same, shrugging a shoulder.
“Don’t let ‘em see the whites of your eyes.”
Nodding to her, Emilio took a deep breath. Ten paces to the bedroom door. His hand hovered over the knob, and he drew another lungful of air before nudging it open.
Juliana was on the bed, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. Her eyes found his across the room, and relief flooded her features. Immediately, the anxiety he’d felt at the door dissipated. “Milio,” she breathed, thrusting out a hand towards him. He walked over to the bed, slipping his hand in hers. She squeezed it so tight he thought his fingers might break.
“One more push,” his mother said from the foot of the bed, methodical. There was no joy in her face; she looked less like a woman helping to deliver her grandchild and more like someone ticking off a checklist of daily chores. Emilio looked away, focusing instead on pushing Juliana’s damp hair away from her forehead.
The pressure on his hand increased momentarily as Juliana pushed, but Emilio hardly noticed it, because with the height of that pressure came a sound. A shrill cry piercing the air, new lungs drawing in oxygen for the first time and releasing it with so much noise that it was almost as if they were protesting.
“A girl,” his mother announced. A weight was shoved into Emilio’s hands; a necessary thing instead of a thoughtful gesture. His mother needed both hands free to finish, and Juliana was still weak from her efforts. Had anyone else been standing in Emilio’s spot, they would have been handed that wriggling mass, too. Had he not reentered the room, the child would have been placed on the floor. That was how it went, he knew. “That’s good. We’ve had more luck with girls, lately.”
His mother’s words struck something in him, some childish sense of accomplishment as if his mother being pleased that his child was a girl was the same as his mother being proud of him for something he’d done intentionally. He looked down at the shape in his arms. She wasn’t crying anymore; dark eyes were blinking up at him, face scrunched up in a way that almost seemed thoughtful.
It felt like being hit by lightning, looking at her for the first time. He put a finger in her tiny hand, and she gripped it with more strength than should have been possible for something so small. He sucked in a breath.
“Call her what you want,” Juliana said from the bed, sounding drained. “I’m going to take a nap. Just don’t make it something stupid, Milio. I’m not calling her Emilia.” He snorted at the suggestion, rolling his eyes.
“Flora,” he said quietly. “I like Flora.”
“Okay,” Juliana agreed. “Flora it is. Flora Emilia Cortez.” He looked over to her, bemused expression on his face, and she shrugged. “I just like the name. It isn’t about you. You’re a little conceited, darling, has anyone ever told you that?”
Rolling his eyes again, he knelt down, letting her take a look. “We did a pretty good job,” he told her quietly.
“We? Which one of us just pushed her out?”
“I helped a little.”
“You can help when she needs potty training. That’s how you pay me back.”
Laughing, he nodded his head. “Okay,” he agreed. “Deal.”
