Chapter 15 - The Curse

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Xiomara ran out of the bathroom when her phone rang somewhere in the bedroom. Her feet tripped over her ankle strap platforms and she dove headfirst into the antique French desk squatted against the wall.

Luckily for her, there was a gaping hole between the legs of the desk and the floor. She plunged unto the carpet like a baseball player heading straight for the home run and used her hands to ward off the inevitable.

Her chin smacked the carpet. Hard.

For a moment it felt as if all her teeth had been knocked out with a bat. Or hacked off with a saw.

She rolled unto her back and groaned. All the while her phone kept wailing at her to pick up. She stared up at the ceiling, at the fancy light fixture and at the crown molding with its intricate patterns and waited for the throbbing in her chin to fade away into a dull ache.

The phone stopped ringing, her heavy breathing the only sound in the dimly lit room. Lifting her hand to her chin, she massaged it. She touched her belly just to assure herself that she hadn't hurt the baby. Her hands had indeed managed to take the brunt of the fall, but her pointed chin just didn't stand a chance.

Her phone went off again, startling her. She gathered her strength and got up, slipping her feet back into her fuzzy bedroom slippers.

"Hello," she croaked after she had answered the phone.

"Mi amor! We miss you."

"Hi, mom." She rubbed the back of her neck in an effort to loosen up the tight muscles there. "How's everything? How's Esme? And everybody else."

Carolina coughed. "Everything's fine. We still haven't found out who's been buying Esmeralda lunch everyday. Principal says it's part of a anonymous charity program, but I don't believe her. Esme says she doesn't know of anyone else who gets free food. That sounds highly suspicious to me."

"It is, but Esme's happy and that's all I care about. I will find out what's going on as soon as I get back, okay. I feel like they're trying to fat her up because she's so skinny." Xiomara paced around the room as she spoke. "It's like an indirect message to us telling us that we should feed her more. And I feel like Esme would hate me if I told her to stop eating the food, you know what I mean?"

There was a pause, and then she heard shuffling in the background. Carolina muttered a few incoherent words, her voice fading into the chaos. And then there was a loud cackle.

"Have you told him yet," Carolina demanded when she came back on.

"No, mama. It's just been real busy around here." Xiomara fell back on the bed as she listened to her mother drone on and on about why it was important for her to tell Omar that she was pregnant.

"I don't know, sweetheart. I'm starting to worry. This is not my firecracker, the one who doesn't hesitate to tell anyone what's on her mind."

Rubbing her eyes in agitation, Xiomara took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell him, okay."

"Maybe you don't know who the father is and you're having a hard time telling me because you're afraid I will judge you. Is that it?" More shuffling in the background. And then the sound of something breaking. "Josh! Why are you so damn clumsy?" A pause. "Xio, are you there?"

"I'm here," she said.

"Are you crying?"

She touched her face, and yup her fingertips were wet with tears. "Of course. That is the most offending thing you have ever said to me. Like ever."

Carolina cleared her throat. "Mi Amor, I didn't say it to offend. It's just that this Omar figure came out of nowhere and I thought just maybe there were others."

Another stream of tears came flowing down to the side of her eyes, the liquid warm as it ran pass her ears to hit the pillow or trickle onto her hair. "Really, mama. I thought you knew me better than that."

"That's what I thought, but lately I'm not so sure. Are you a surrogate?"

Wait, what? "That's outrageous."

"People do a lot for money these days."

"Speak for yourself, mama. I am not you." As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to swallow them back.

Too late. They were now echoing off into oblivion across the vast galaxy, pass a bazillion stars - and all of that in less than o.1 second - straight into her mother's ears.

Carolina's gasp confirmed her fear that she had indeed spoken the words out loud. Holy crap.

"Xiomara! What has gotten into you?" A mixture of disbelief, maybe even shock came across the connection.

"You're stressing me out, okay." Once more, hot tears spilled. "Look, mama, I can't do this right now. I have to go."

"Mi amor!"

"Goodbye, mama."

Grabbing a black shawl from her suitcase, Xiomara hopped off of the bed and streaked out of the room, jogging down the stairs and then making a u-turn to dodge Francois in the kitchen on her way out to the backyard that just so happened to be the size of a giant plantation. The back of this villa was bigger and greener than the one on St. Maarten. The grass rolled on forever it seemed. Although there were way less flowers here than in Filo's garden.

Still, that didn't diminish the beauty of the vast landscape or the fig trees standing sturdy in the night air while the half full moon casted its bluish glow up from above, bathing everything it touched in whimsical beauty.

Even through her tear stained eyes, it was hard to deny the beauty of the night sky and the unspoiled nature around her. She took a left and strolled pass the pool and unto a path dully illuminated by a few foot lamps.

The footpath, made out of stone similar to the one on the driveway in St. Maarten led her to a gazebo perched high up on a grassy knoll. The wooden gazebo, painted white and octagonal in shape with its double straight roof was every little girl's dream hiding spot.

And right now she felt like a little girl running away from her mama. From her mistakes. But she hadn't been running fast enough it seemed, because the sins of the mother - in others words, the generational 'bullshit' curse - had caught up to her.

Although her mother had started at a much younger age, the curse had gotten to her too.

In the span of ten years, Carolina had given birth to seven children. Her grandmother before that had had twelve children, of which four had died early due to violence, two were locked up for life for human trafficking, three were prostitutes and one was homeless. The remaining two were somewhere in the United States. Last she'd heard, one was a lawyer and the other a dental hygienist.

Good for them. They were smart for avoiding the family like a disease. If she had the chance or the balls, she would have done the exact same thing. Her family had a way of draining a person both emotionally and financially. The drama never stopped with them. And she was tired.

After climbing up the slope to the gazebo, she curled up on one of its purple sofas and closed her eyes. Surprisingly, there were no mosquitoes buzzing around at this time. The night air had a bite to it as a result of the draft coming in from the ocean. Even from this far in, the sound of the waves breaking on shore was loud and clear. And unbelievably soothing.

Thinking back on her mother's words, a wrenching sob tore itself out of her throat. She used the shawl to try and muffle the sound even though there was no one around to hear her. Yet, the main reason why she was crying was because she had let Esmeralda down. By choosing to keep the baby, she had also chosen to forsake Esme's care. And if not Esme, it was the rest of her siblings. Especially the twins who were all three doing so well in school.

"Xiomara? what's wrong?"

She lifted her head to find Amelia kneeling down next to her, a gentle hand coming down to rest on her shoulder.

Blink. Blink again. Yup, the other woman with the voice of an angel was really there.

Sitting up, she wiped at her tears. "Go away."

A draught of chilly air blew in from the seaside, sending her curly hair swaying in the wind.  She tightened her shawl around her neck and looked away, totally ignoring Amelia's presence. Yet the other woman didn't leave.

Silence descended upon them and the night felt darker than ever. When she finally looked back in Amelia's direction, Xiomara found her sitting  at the entrance of the gazebo with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. She didn't know how long they sat there, but it was highly comforting to have Amelia there with her.

It was a while before Xiomara spoke. "Thank you."

"For what? I didn't do anything." Amelia smiled and her eyes lit up like chandeliers. It was obvious why Willem had married her. She was soft spoken and kind, and probably didn't give him any attitude.

"Nonetheless you came and look for me ... and you sat with me." Xiomara twisted her fingers in her lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm pregnant."

Now Amelia was the third person to know, and it felt good to tell someone in her age bracket about it. Since it turned out that she didn't have a best friend, Amelia was the next best candidate.

Or maybe not. The woman looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her caramel colored skin was now the color of ash in the pale moonlight while her eyes bulged forward like a fish out of water gulping for oxygen.

"Okay, isn't that great news?" Amelia forced a smile, the end of her words faltering.

"Not for me." Xiomara shook her head fiercely. Her lips trembled and she brought her hand up to still them.

"Why is that?"

"He would never accept my baby. We don't see each other that often." No need to bore Amelia with all the details of how Omar was practically a stranger and that the closest they'd come to a meaningful conversation had been yesterday afternoon.

When Amelia didn't comment, Xiomara sighed. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I messed up."

"What are you saying?" Amelia asked, practically choking, her voice a shaky whisper.

Okay. What was up with that? Last she remembered, she was the pregnant and emotional one. So Amelia's reaction didn't make any sense to her. Unless ... unless she thought that - okay, Xiomara had to laugh.

"You think I'm pregnant for your Willem."

It was a moment before Amelia said anything. "Well, aren't you? Because I cannot see what this has to do with me, if not that."

"Willem is my boss and I do not want him that way ... at least not anymore; he was never interested. His friend is who I'm crazy about." She stopped. Oh shit, she was. "But he's been acting strange lately." She added the last part as a last ditch effort to explain why she was so distraught.

The tension coiling up Amelia's muscles slowly left her body and she let out a long breath of air. She was visibly relieved and the smile from earlier was back on that pretty face. Standing up, Amelia closed the distance between them.

Xiomara stiffened when Amelia bent over and hugged her hard.

"We are talking about Omar," the other woman said, her face splitting into a broad grin.

"Yes." Xiomara eyed her cautiously.

"I think he'll be delighted. Have you told him yet?"

"No, and that's where you come in." On cue, Xiomara's palms started to sweat. She wrung them together before wiping them over her black jeans.

Amelia was a nice woman, gullible even. So it only made what she was about to ask the other woman to do that much worse. It was in no way inventive, but it was the best solution she could come up with at the moment. With her mother breathing down her neck and the due date fast approaching, she didn't have much time left. It was now or never. The sooner she started planning, the better off they would be. Hopefully.

"I don't get it. What is it you want me to do?" Amelia frowned, her eyes slanting suspiciously. Okay, so she wasn't that gullible after all.

Xiomara leaned in closer, her voice a whisper. "I want you to go to him - even better if I'm around to witness it - and tell him congratulations on the baby."

"Oh."

"Yes?"

Again that frown. "But wouldn't it be better to take it easy by maybe asking him if he has kids and if he wants any in the future .... something like that."

"And if he says no. And then what? He has no choice but to acknowledge this baby. Our baby. We created him together. All you have to do is walk up to him and casually tell him congratulations. Think you can do that?"

Amelia fidgeted, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "Uh, yes, I think I can do that. But why don't you just tell him yourself?"

"Because I'm afraid I might lose my temper. I'm a little hotheaded sometimes. My mom calls firecracker. And if he so much as utter a word along the lines of that's-not-my-baby, God only knows what I'll do to him. So please. Spare me the stress. It's not good for the baby." Xiomara feigned distress.

"Okay. Alright. I'll do it."

"Thank you, thank you," Xiomara said. She laughed and once again her eyes were watery with tears. "This means the world to me."

"Ladies," a familiar voice said in the darkness.

*****

Martin Garrix & Dua Lipa - Scared To Be Lonely

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