Gilda Salinas - Ananke

Her mother-in-law seemed all too pleased for the turn of events. That two-faced woman was probably sick of having an “indecent” girl at home, and a baby that maybe wasn’t even her grandson because, of course, a little bird told her…

Marcelino got drunk every night, and he hardly ever went to the street market. He was mean to Mélida; he, the boy who would leave love songs in folded sheets of paper, and she’d sing them with excitement: Kiss me / Just because / Without a pause. / Kiss me… That same boy would one day raise his hand, ready to hit her. “Who are you to ask me for money, you worthless piece of shit? Don’t shush me! I don’t give a damn if that baby wakes up!”

I guess I confused desire with love, and without desire, I had nothing left .

“Yes, ma’am. My father-in-law owned the house, and that’s where my baby boy, Anto—”

The attorney stops her, and asks Rosa Martha to write: “That’s where my son was born, and I wish to keep his name private.”

“Were you living there when you were…?”

“No. We stayed there until my baby was six months old, more or less, but my husband’s attitude got worse…

…he began to drink alcoholic beveragesfrequently, and whenever I complained, Marcelino would get angry and yell at me, he would say that I had no reason to tell him what to do, that he would keep on drinking, and he also stopped working, and what bothered me was that he would go out all day, and he would go with a man called Darío, I learned this because I stayed at his father’s house, where we lived, and when Marcelino arrived I would ask him where he had been, and he would say “I was out with Darío, my friend…”

“Did anyone in the family introduce you to him?”

“No! I never saw him during that time.”

I would like to mentionthat I don’t know how Marcelino met Darío, but maybe since Zacatelco is near to Tlaxcala…

“I always worked, ma’am. Can I call you Patty?” The attorney nods, and with another movement tells her to speak addressing the prosecutor. “Anyway, after my dad’s accident, I sold juices in front of the house, and with my in-laws as well, so whenever Marcelino didn’t bring money, I paid for diapers and whatever my baby boy needed. But, see, I got tired of his screams and threats. The first time he hit me was when I said this was over.”

“Remember, you’re telling this to Quiroz.”

Mélida faces the prosecutor again, and continues with her statement. She can tell they’re waiting for her to continue.

“So yeah, he hit me, and I moved back home. I sold juices, and I helped my mom with her business. We also started selling fruit salad. I had to work harder because I had brought two mouths to feed back home, and my mom couldn’t do all the work on her own. My brothers still study, but the older one already helps at a convenience store, and at least he doesn’t ask for money for the bus or for his weekend expenses. So the little money I made was for my child.

“Still, Marcelino would appear now and then, drunk, and shouted at me that he was going to kill me, and that he’d kill my brothers too if I didn’t go back home. We were scared. I even threw my cellphone in the trash because of the awful messages he’d send me over the phone.

“And my dad isn’t well. He needs treatment with honey because he gets sores in his back and his bottom. He felt helpless when he heard Marcelino say those awful things and he couldn’t kick him in the… well, you know, defend us. Then I looked for another job, and I started sowing clothes at a workshop. Chilo wasn’t able to find me because I switched shifts every week, and sometimes I’d work extra hours. About three months later, I got a job at an assembly plant.

She suddenly remembers the time her brother said that Marcelino had become Darío’s driver, and that the guy was a pimp. She couldn’t believe it, much less that they had kidnapped a girl from the market. The girl’s father owned a taco stand there. No, she couldn’t picture her husband doing that. What did pimps actually do anyway? How could it be? The image disturbed her. She thought her brother was only trying to make her angry.

She feels like a complete idiot now, but then she reminds herself that even if she had bought it, she couldn’t have avoided what happened next.

“And then I was happy at my job, Patty My mom helped me with my baby boy, and I had enough money because the assembly plant paid transport costs.”

“You’re doing great, Mel, but I must insist, you have to tell your statement to the prosecutor, not me. I’m just looking after your rights. She’s the one doing the investigation, and she will determine the crimes you suffered. You were happy at your job, you lived with your parents, then what happened?” “Marcelino happened. He showed up early one day, before I entered the plant,” she says, and the words take her back.

A little bit over six a.m., Mel leaves her house with enough time to get to the bus stop. The early breeze reddens her cheeks. Seconds after she walks out, her mother calls her: “You forgot your fruit for lunch.” She steps out into the cold and made a reach to hand her the plastic container.

Mel is in a hurry, but the warmth inside the house seems so seductive, maybe I could skip work today, what’s the worse that could happen? She stands right beside the door and the aromas she knows all too well cuddle just a bit more in her spirit. The baby begins to cry and walks toward her to hold on to her legs, his little face looks up at her. It is really hard to resist, but luckily her mother distracts him with the feeding bottle. Mel leaves in a hurry. Skipping work is a luxury she can’t afford.

From a gray van with tinted windows, someone follows her right as she climbs on the bus and for the rest of the way. They reach the destination thirty minutes later, and a man gets out of the van. He sees a group of men making jokes despite the cold weather, and Mel stands out: small, nice shape, with long curls, and dimples on her cheeks.

The man gets in her way, and she tries to evade him as she recognizes him.

“Wait, Mel, I wanna know about my boy.”

“Like you even care, you didn’t show up to his first birthday, and I gotta go.”

“I know, but I’m different now. I can’t stop thinking about you, mamacita, mi flaca linda, I’m sorry. Please come back. Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Yeah, I think I like my parent’s house a lot better. I have to work.” She tries to go around him, but he holds her with ferocity. “Cut it out, Marcelino, or I’ll call security.”

“Come on, Mel, gimme a chance. Hey, I even bought some clothes for my baby boy.”

“Well it’s about time. You can leave them with my mother.”

“Come on, don’t be stubborn. Let me give them to you this Saturday. How about we meet at eleven? Our usual place. We can talk a bit.”

Marcelino squeezes her arm seductively. She says yes just to get rid of him. She is not even sure of what she heard, and she runs toward the assembly plant, but she can still hear her husband singing loudly: