15. The Documents
I packed our identification documents.
Mateo’s medical records.
My work equipment.
Clothes.
Medication.
A few toys.
Dad carried the bags downstairs.
Rosa stood in the living room watching us.
“You’re really leaving over a car?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She frowned.
“Then what?”
“I’m leaving because every day in this house, you remind me that I should be grateful for basic things. And every time I ask for help, you make me feel ashamed.”
Her expression tightened.
“I gave you a roof.”
“You offered us temporary accommodation. I thanked you for it. That didn’t give you the right to take my transportation or decide whether I could get medical care.”
She looked away.
For once, I didn’t wait for her permission to finish speaking.
16. The Keys
Before we left, I asked Luis for the car keys.
He looked at his mother.
Rosa’s hand moved toward her handbag.
“No,” she said. “I need the car tomorrow.”
I looked at Luis.
“It’s registered in your name. I’m paying for it. Are you going to let your mother keep it?”
He hesitated.
Then he held out his hand.
“Mom, give me the keys.”
Rosa stared at him.
“Luis.”
“Please.”
She pulled them from her handbag and dropped them into his palm.
He turned toward me.
“Here.”
I took them.
But I wasn’t going to drive with my injured ankle.
Dad arranged for the car to be collected later.
The important thing was that Rosa no longer controlled whether I could leave.
17. The Drive Away
As we pulled away, I looked back at the house.
The lights were on.
Rosa stood behind the front window.
Luis was beside her.
For months, I’d believed leaving would be impossible.
I’d imagined shouting.
Threats.
Arguments.
A hundred reasons I would be forced to stay.
But now I was sitting beside my father.
Mateo was asleep behind us.
And the house was getting smaller in the rearview mirror.
Dad glanced at me.
“You okay?”
I wiped my face.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
“That’s all right.”
Then he drove us home.
