[1] Tell me you love me, he says.
[3] Tell me you're happy to be with me.
[4] I'm happy. I am happy.
[5] With me. Tell me you're happy with me.
[7] Juan takes my hand, unwraps my arms, lifts my shirt so that my belly is exposed. I'm afraid he'll punch it.
[8] You got a piece of me in you now. You know what that means?
[9] My throat hurts from holding back tears, words.
[10] Me and you are connected forever.
[11] His large clammy hands rub my belly as if I'm his ball of fortune. He pushes me onto the bed. He lays his head on my belly, presses his ears against it. His head slithers between my breasts and he grabs them. Grabs my hair, tugs my ears, his hot morning breath on my face. He slaps my face, hard and fast. My skin sticks to his palm.
[12] You better not be going around telling people our business. Don't you know how much I love you? You want someone to come and take our baby? Take you away from me? You think they won't do that? This is America. You hear me?
[13] Ay my little one, please don't cry. Not today, okay?
[14] His arms envelop me. I tuck my chin into my chest, hold my breath against his sour stench. The sheets have to be changed. There is the laundry to do, plantanos to boil for lunch.
[15] What would I do without you, Ana?
[16] You'd go to Caridad and make her happy, I want to say. Just go to her, already.
[17] I'm nothing without you, my Ana.
[18] I focus on my breath. On the baby growing in complete darkness, incubating in a similar heat to Los Guayacanes. My daughter and me, one day running along the water, over the rocks, picking up large pink shells... My bare feet making footprints, ash-white from the saltwater. My baby's thick curls, her big Cancion eyes asking me to name the palm trees...