Me: Hey my Latin lover is texting me. I’ll ttyl
J: Ditching me for a man? I see how it is
Me: You know I love you
J: psssh
Chuckling to myself, I send a slew of hearts her way then switch over to Alejandro’s window.
A: Bien. How are you?
Me: Bien
Me: What are you up to
A: Just got home
He sends me a picture. He’s smiling, shirtless, and holding a beer. Good Lord, could he get any hotter? Biting my lower lip, I hold my camera overhead and snap one of myself. I’m going for the sultry look. I’m not entirely sure I pulled it off though. I send it then follow it up with a couple rows of smiley faces with hearts for eyes.
A: Cute cute cute
Me: The gods were in my favor today
A: You’re funny
Me: Glad you think so
A: What you do today
Me: Wrote a little and took the kids to dinner
A: Did you have fun
Me: Yep I did
Me: I miss your face
A: Send me another pic
This time I take a minute to change into a pair of skimpy pajamas, feeling all sorts of naughty, and then I take a picture of just my bare legs with only the lacy edge of my shorts showing at the top of my thighs.
Me: You mean like this?
A: Mmmm very nice
A: What color panties are you wearing?
Me: White
Me: Because I’m so sweet and innocent
I’m aware that I’m biting my bottom lip again. The anticipation of his response is almost too much, the thrill nearly as powerful as when we’re occupying the same space.
A: I do not think you are that innocent Mami
Me: *gasp*
A: Mami
A: Move those panties over
A: Show me what’s mine
Okay, so now I’m nervous. I’m not an old pro at sexting, and Alejandro being Alejandro, he’s gone from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye. I hesitate, then say:
Me: I’m a good girl remember
A: Mami…
Me: What
A: Show me my pussy
Oh my Lord. I want to say no…but I also don’t. I’m experiencing a bit of a dilemma. So used to behaving “right” it feels all kinds of wrong to do anything else, but that’s also part of the allure. The bad girl inside of me wants to come out and play, and she’s warring with the good girl who is struggling to hold onto some of her reserve.
Me: I’ll think about it
A: How long do you need to think
Me: Hmmm…I’ll let you know
A: Mami
A: Please
Me: I think you should come here and take one yourself
Goose bumps form on my skin when I think of him, buried inside me, with his phone in-hand. The very idea makes me blush, but I find the fantasy to be more than a little appealing.
A: I need to see you
Me: Baby me too
A: Are you done thinking yet
Me: lol nope
A slew of crying emojis quickly follow, then:
A: Okay Mami
He’s quiet for longer than I’d like and a wave of insecurity sets in, so like a psycho I ask:
Me: Are you mad?
A: I could never be mad at you
The mood having passed, we settle into some light flirting and deep talking. Alejandro and I start talking about meeting my kids and more about the possibility of him relocating soon to be closer to me. It would be a big change for both of us, and we want to make sure it’s going to be the right move—a lasting one.
By the time we say goodnight, it’s almost two in the morning. I’m exhausted and desperately in need of a shower, but I can barely summon the energy to brush my teeth. Knowing I have to be up in less than four hours, I do the bare minimum required and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
7
“We’re going to have a little brother or sister!” my youngest shouts as soon as Mark walks in the door.
I cringe, put on a fake smile, and try my best to pretend to watch TV. I’m abjectly ignoring Mark’s wide-eyed gaze that’s trained fully on me. “What?” he asks as our daughter jumps up and down in front of him. His voice is a bit too high and full of shock and disbelief.
That makes two of us. Despite knowing the possibility, I never really expected the test to come back positive. Pregnant. My God, what do I do now?
I have been asking myself that question all day, unable to get a stitch of work done because my head is just not in the game. How could it be after getting such life-changing news? Of course, I texted Alejandro right away—he was the first and only thought on my mind at the time. Thankfully, he wasn’t mad, or even terribly taken aback. Unlike me. Although a bit shocked, he was rather supportive and even a bit…happy—just as he said he’d be.
I swear, his culture is better than mine. Whereas I was always taught that having babies was a huge burden and something to be ashamed of unless you had every single I dotted and T crossed, his has taught him that babies are a blessing, to be accepted always.
I like his way of thinking. It’s how I’ve always felt, but again, it’s hard to shake the stuff that gets drilled into your head from an early age.
“Mom’s having a baby!” my youngest says again with no less enthusiasm.
Mark is having trouble digesting the news—it’s in his eyes and that fake, strained smile. He walks into the living room and sits on the love seat a foot away from me, looking at me as if he doesn’t recognize me. “What’s going on?”
As if he didn’t hear her the first two times? Like a child whose internal regulators are too immature to control, I smile even though that’s the last thing I feel like doing. “The test came back positive. Looks like I’m having a baby.”
He swallows tightly and continues staring at me as if I might, at any moment, shout “Just kidding!” When he finally realizes that’s never going to happen, he sits back and utters a small, “Wow.”
I nod my agreement.
“What does…what’s his name. Ricardo? No, Julio. Fernando? I can never remember his name.” He laughs, but it’s so condescending it pisses me off.
“Alejandro.”
“Right, that.” He shakes his head. “So, what does he have to say about all of this?”
This time my smile is purposeful. In a snide tone that matches his, I say, “He’s happy.”
Mark’s eyebrows pop up for a second and he looks to the floor. I don’t think he expected that answer. “Well, I guess that’s good. But he’s never going to be around, is he? With all his travel stuff for work I mean.”
“He’ll be gone a lot,” I agree. That’s the part I don’t like, but as Jean once told me, I’ve been raising three kids by myself already when I never thought I’d have to. I can handle it.
He mulls this over, his eyes darting from the floor to the television to the dining room where our daughter is now playing with one of the cats, and back to the floor again. Sucking in a deep breath he says, “So what does that make me, its stepdad? I like kids. I’d treat it like my own, take it places ‘n stuff like that.”
Is he seriously putting himself in my baby’s life—as a father figure? I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m at a total loss for words. And I highly doubt Alejandro would be too pleased to hear that my soon-to-be ex-husband is fully ready and willing to fill his role in our baby’s life. My God.
“So how do you feel about it?” Mark asks.
I shrug. “It’s an adjustment, but it’s a baby. Of course I love it already.”
If I’m not mistaken, Mark is stewing over this—hurting. Good, he should. I don’t think he ever really expected me to move on from him. Me having another man’s baby is about as final as it can get though. There’s no denying it now.
“I mean, that’s good,” Mark says again. “The kids will love having another baby in the house.”
“I wa
nt a brother,” the youngest says, looking up from her game of pull-the-string with the cat.
Mark acknowledges her with a half-smile and a slight nod. After a few more minutes of conversation consisting of Q&A and awkward pauses, Mark clears his throat and goes off upstairs to join our son in his room. Their visit is always terribly predictable—our son plays video games while Mark lies on his bed scrolling Facebook. They exchange a couple words here and there about video games, and maybe touch on how their days have been since the last visit, and that’s it. Nothing deep or heartfelt. No real connection going on. It’s the same minimal effort Mark put in when he was here, and it’s downright pitiful. Sometimes I wonder how I wasted so much of my life on such a self-centered man.
I busy myself doing laundry, the mundane keeping me moving so I don’t have to sit around and think so much. It’s better to have a quiet mind, especially when mine is spinning non-stop today.
Eventually, I make my way upstairs with an armload of my clothing to put away, and set about doing just that. It’s about the time that I am stuffing my dresser drawers that I realize the pair of lacy blue panties I just bought and had laid out on my dresser for Alejandro’s next visit are gone.
With a frown, I search my drawers to make sure I didn’t accidentally put them away, then the floor, under and behind the dresser too. I look high and low before going into the girls’ room. “Hey,” I say as I knock on the door then let myself in. “Have you seen the blue underwear that were on my dresser?” I ask them as I take notice of Mark’s shoes poking out from the bottom bunk.
He’s laying with our youngest, watching her play games on her iPod I assume, and doesn’t move a muscle when I come in.
“No,” the girls both reply.
“Are you sure? They were right on top.” I describe what they look like, but neither of them admit to having seen nor taken them.
I stare at the soles of Mark’s shoes, a nagging suspicion coming over me. A part of me wants to tell him to turn out his pockets, but I don’t know why. He wouldn’t steal my panties, right?
“Well, if you see them or do know where they’re at, just put them on my dresser please.” I close the door on my way out, unable to shake the feeling that I know exactly who has them. But that’s ridiculous. Has to be. What could he want with my underwear?
After a while, Mark and the girls come downstairs and decide to play a dance game on the Kinect. I sit off to the side, watching and smiling because it’s always a joy to see my kids having fun.
By the time Mark leaves, he’s back to his normal, friendly self, and even comes up to give me a hug on his way out, which is odd to me. He usually tries to avoid physical contact with me…unless we’ve had a disagreement or he thinks I’m mad at him.
As soon as he’s gone, I call up Jean and tell her about the visit, especially the part concerning the case of the missing panties.
“He’s such a creep. He’s probably going to tell his trashy bimbo he bought them for her and make her wear them for him.”
“Oh God, that’s disgusting!” I’m laughing, but honestly, it really is creepy. “I doubt he took them though. I mean, what could he really want with them?”
My oldest daughter is entering the room as I say that last bit and says, “I saw Dad coming out of your room earlier.”
I pause, my jaw dropping open. “What?”
“Yeah, I was coming out of my room and he was coming out of yours. I just thought you knew he was in there.”
I didn’t. In fact, I close the door when I know he’s coming by because of how often he’s prevailed himself of my personal space. It was supposed to be a deterrent. “No, I didn’t know that.”
I relay this information to Jean, who becomes even more adamant that he’s the thief. I have to admit, it’s beyond suspicious now. Still, I don’t want to wrongfully accuse him if he didn’t do it.
“He’s a creep!” Jean insists. “Look at everything else he’s done. He took those underwear and he’s probably smelling them right now.”
“That’s so sick.” I laugh again. “But you’re probably right. I mean, I thought I knew the guy and look how that turned out.”
“See what I mean. I’m telling you, Julie, the man is seriously screwed up in the head.”
“Yeah, I think you might be right.”
“I know I am. I’m so glad you found someone hotter and worth your time.”
“No kidding. Alejandro is great.”
“I’m glad. You deserve someone who makes you happy. And oh my God, I can’t wait to see that baby! You’re going to make the cutest brown babies ever! Do you know what you want?”
“Umm…I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. As long as it’s healthy, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Yeah. Right. Girls are the worst. I’m telling you, Julie, I love my girls, but they are holy terrors. My boys are so sweet. And look at yours. He’s so quiet and gentle.”
She’s right. I don’t know where people get the idea that girls are sugar and spice and everything nice. Mine tear the house apart, are filthy on their best days and meanwhile, my son is the most reserved, well-behaved kid a parent could ask for. That whole thing about boys being hell raisers must be an old wives’ tale.
“You know, you’re right. I prefer a boy.” I picture holding a little boy in my arms, one that has Alejandro’s eyes and perfectly full lips, his skin a few shades lighter than his father’s, and my heart instantly melts.
“You’re going to have an awesome life. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, I’m happy for me too.”
And I am. Things seem to finally be falling into place, and that’s a damn good feeling.
8
The months pass by way too fast. Unfortunately—and perhaps fortunately—everything is going pretty much exactly how I expected them to. Alejandro works a lot and travels often, moving from state to state, city to city. He’s not around much, but he’s always here in spirit—and text. I miss him terribly, something I don’t think I could ever get used to.
Especially now that we’re starting a new chapter in our lives that’s bringing us closer together even though we’re miles apart.
I want more than anything for him to be here to share every moment with me, but he just can’t. So, I’m doing my best to keep my chin up and fill him in on every detail.
A: Send me a pic
I send one of my growing belly, which is currently lopsided because the baby prefers to sleep on my left side.
Me: He’s sleeping
A: How do you know it’s a he
Me: Instinct
He hates that I refuse to find out the sex of the baby, but I’ve always known what my kids were going to be, and this time I want to be surprised. Good man that he is, he lets me have my way.
A: That means it’s a girl lol
Me: Hush! You’ll jinx it
A: Why don’t you want a girl
Me: I don’t care either way. I just prefer a boy
A: Then you do care lol
Me: I’m going to smack you lol
A: Always so violent
Me: You’re right. I’m bad. You should spank me
A: lol Mami. Your wish is my command
God, if smiling too much was toxic, I’d be long dead.
A: Como estas
Me: I’m fine. Just tired
A: You should sleep then
Me: I don’t want to stop talking to you
A: lol I’ll still be here when you wake up
Me: That’s what I’m afraid of
Me: When are you coming back?
A: Soon. A couple weeks
Me: That’s too long
Me: I miss you
A: I miss you too Mami
A: Very much
He sends a slew of emojis blowing kisses
A: I love you Mami
Me: I love you too baby
A: Go sleep. Take care of our bb
Me: Gah, ok fine
A: Bueno
s noches Mami
Me: Sweet dreams Papi
Everything is a chore when you’re carrying a basketball around in front of you. I just hope I put on matching shoes today. Thank the Lord for mirrors.
Instead of a couple weeks, Alejandro was away for nearly a month. Now he’s back and I’m on cloud nine again. My nerves are raw and my heart is pounding, and despite the sleeveless maxi dress, I’m sweating.
This must be what military wives feel like when their men come home. As I finish putting the final touches on cleaning the house, I re-brush my teeth and double check that the kids are all clean and presentable. They may be teenagers, but I’ve learned there’s never not a need to double check.
It isn’t the first time that Alejandro has been to the house, and it isn’t the first time he’s met the kids, but it will be the first time we’ve hung out together in a long time. It’s also the first time he’ll be meeting Mark, which is a real cause for concern.
I don’t want anything awkward to happen, and I can’t predict how Mark will behave either. He’s a condescending prick with obvious jealousy issues when Alejandro isn’t around, so I’m nervous to find out how he’ll do face-to-face.
So help me, he’d better be a saint.
“Are you guys ready? Are you going to come down sometime today?” I call up the stairs to the kids. I listen for their muffled responses which sound more like complaints before I walk away.
When I hear Alejandro’s car pull into the driveway, my heart pounds harder. But not from nerves. No, now it’s just pure anticipation.
Rushing to the door, I try to rein myself in, but the moment I lay eyes on him walking up the walkway, I grin and fling the door open.
Meeting him at the top of the steps, I wrap my arms around his neck and lock my lips onto his. He’s the best kisser, totally devoted to it. As he sucks my bottom lip between his, my knees go weak and I moan.
Mami: Based on a True Story Page 5
