I just sat listening and eating. After a while, he grew quiet himself and just ate and looked off as if he were sitting by himself. In fact, when Teresa came to clear off the dishes, he looked around as if he had just realized I was there with him and we had just eaten.
I heard a door slam, and we both listened to the footsteps descending the stairs. Moments later, Mrs. Newell appeared in the dining-room doorway.
“How is he?” Señor Bovio asked.
“He’s doing fine, Mr. Bovio.” She looked at him, and he nodded at the envelope. Then she turned to me. “In two hours, you can come upstairs for five minutes,” she said. “First, I’d like you to wash your hands, and I want you to put on the robe I have for this purpose. If you are doused heavily in perfume, I’d like you to wash it off.”
“No, no, I’m not,” I said. “Why am I limited to only five minutes?”
“You can appreciate what I went through with her these past months,” she told Señor Bovio instead of responding. “It was constantly like this, questioning every order I gave, making me work harder.”
“I don’t mean to make you work harder, Mrs. Newell. I—”
“Considering what you have done to this child,” she said coldly, “and how difficult you have made it for him to survive, I would think you would be grateful for even two minutes.”
I started to speak but stopped myself. If I said anything more, I might not be able to see Adan Jr. at all. Señor Bovio hadn’t raised a syllable in my defense. He looked away, in fact.
Mrs. Newell didn’t say another word. She went into the kitchen to get her own dinner. I looked at Señor Bovio, hoping to hear him promise m
e more.
Instead, he said, “I’ll go in with you.”
I wondered if he thought I might scoop up Adan Jr. and run out of the house, but then he smiled and added, “When we brought Adan home, Señora Bovio and I sat at his side for hours and hours, marveling at his tiny features, his every move. It meant more for us to be there together. After all, we made him together. Aaah,” he exclaimed when Teresa came out with a rich chocolate cake. “The dessert I promised. Nothing is too rich for you now, Delia.” He smiled gleefully.
I thought to myself that when el diablo smiled, he surely smiled the same way.
Two hours later, he was waiting at the door for me. I was so nervous that I was trembling. He knocked softly, and we heard the door unlocked. Mrs. Newell looked at us and stepped aside, directing me first into the bathroom, where she had special soap she wanted me to use and the robe she wanted me to wear. I did everything just as she directed, terrified that I’d make some small error and she would send me away before I saw Adan.
Finally, I was able to approach the crib and look at my baby. To me, he looked absolutely perfect, his face fuller. I didn’t see myself in him as much as I did Adan. For a while, all I could do was stare in wonder. Then, slowly, almost like someone bringing her fingers close to a candle’s flame, I reached down to touch his little hand. His eyes fluttered open, and I would swear forever that he looked up at me and smiled.
Then and there, I vowed I would not leave him behind. Señor Bovio could have me sign a thousand documents, give me tons of money, and lavish the most expensive gifts on me, but none of it, nothing, would keep me from my baby.
Suddenly, I felt Señor Bovio step up beside me, his body touching mine.
“Adan,” he whispered, “has come back to us.”
My heart fluttered. I looked up at him, and in his eyes, I saw the madness of love Adam surely had for Eve, the same love that would enable him to defy God’s commandment and deport him and Eve forever from Paradise. Like a dark, heavy shadow, Señor Bovio loomed over me and my baby.
“It’s time,” Mrs. Newell declared.
“But surely it hasn’t been five minutes,” I protested.
“Surely it has,” she said, stepping closer.
I looked at Señor Bovio. He nodded, took my arm, and turned me toward the door.
When I looked back, Mrs. Newell was leaning over the crib, blocking Adan Jr. from my view. I heard him cry and started to turn back, but Señor Bovio kept me moving forward and out of the room.
I knew then that my baby was the paradise from which I was being driven away.
12
Ignacio
I pleaded outside in the hallway.
“Didn’t you see him smile when I touched him, señor? Couldn’t you see how a mother’s touch brought him happiness?”