Chapter Text
Ellie is screaming her head off.
Petra puts her head down on the table, her hair falling over her face. Ellie only screams louder. The two of them are alone in the house. Jane is out at the park with Mateo and Anna for the afternoon. Ellie is still recovering from the remnants of a cold, miserable and furious at being left behind.
Petra is exhausted. Ellie has recovered enough to be a holy terror, but not quite as much as she would like to hope.
“Ellie,” Petra says, as calmly as she can. Her voice is muffled against the table and with her hair covering her face. Ellie doesn’t pay her any mind. “Ellie, please stop screaming.”
“I WANT TO GOOOOO!” she wails, for the millionth time. At this rate, she’s going to lose her voice. “MOMMY, YOU HAVE TO LET ME GOOO,” she’s standing up in her high chair, three years of righteous fury built up precisely for this apparent moment. “TEO AND ANNA GOT TO. ME TOO, MOMMY!” her voice cracks from the strain and Petra has had enough.
“Elsa,” she snaps harshly, lifting her head and directing a firm gaze at her daughter. “Stop. Shouting.”
Ellie is shocked into silence. Standing up in her chair, her thick brown hair all over the place, face bright pink and full of tears. She glares back in defiance, but she doesn’t scream again.
“Thank you,” Petra says, much softer this time.
“Mommy,” she whines. “It’s not fair.”
“I know it’s not,” Petra gets a cool cloth and gently wipes at Ellie’s face. She sniffles, still shaking with anger. “Elsa, unfortunately, a lot of life is unfair. It will be better for you if you figure that out sooner rather than later.”
“No,” she reaches up and tugs at the end of Petra’s shirt. Petra sets the cloth down on top of the counter, and Ellie crawls up her body. She never waits to be picked up, never has. She crawls her way on top of people and forces them to hold her, the minute that she sees free hands—sometimes even before then. “Why?” she asks, once Petra has her secured in her arms.
“Because life is unpredictable, and you never know what is going to happen. Sometimes things, are just going to be shit,” she says simply. Jane is not overly fond of the straightforward way that Petra usually talks to the children, but she’s become quieter in her protests over the last year or so. They’ve had the same conversation many times: Petra refuses to talk to the children any differently than she would an adult. She hates people who coo at babies with high-pitched nonsense—she’s snapped at many who have tried with her children the last three years—and she doesn’t believe in treating children as if they are any less capable than their adult counterparts. They’re still learning, they might need some things simplified, some edges smoothed over a bit, but they don’t deserve to be lied to, or talked down to.
Ellie drops her head against Petra’s shoulder with a huge sigh. “Why shit?” she asks. If Jane were here, she’d have a coronary.
Petra shrugs. “Baby, if you end up figuring that out, I hope you tell me.”
Ellie snuggles herself closer, tucking her tiny body into an even smaller one. “I want to go,” she cries once more, barely any force to it.
“I know,” Petra rubs at her back. “And I’m sorry that you can’t, but you will get to go soon. That, I can promise.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Ellie tilts her head up and looks right into Petra’s eyes. She always has to check for confirmation, a quirk of Anna’s that she’s adopted as her own. “Okay,” she grumbles. “But today is shit,” she adds, the edges of her eyes lighting up mischievously, knowing that she’s getting away with something.
“Yes,” Petra agrees, patting her daughter’s bottom, just a little hard enough to let her know that she’s not quite getting away with it. “Today is shit.”
Ellie gives her a grin, nose full of snot.
…
…
Jane’s hair catches in the sunlight that’s spilling in through the window. Petra lifts a chunk of it up higher with a finger, and Jane smiles into her pillow as she does.
“What?” she mumbles.
“Nothing.”
Jane isn’t satisfied with that, she reaches out and tugs Petra towards her, laughing and kissing her. Petra is happy to switch her attention from Jane’s hair to Jane’s lips, and soon, her attention is directed elsewhere.
Jane’s hips are canting forward, into Petra’s mouth as she lets out small hisses of pleasure. And that’s when the pounding on the door starts.
“MAMA!” Anna screams. “MATEO TOOK ELLIE’S DOLL.”
“Fuck,” Jane lets out a breath, Petra doesn’t stop. “Pet… tra,” she moans. “Don’t… fuck,” she breathes.
“MOMMY!” Anna screams, banging on the door again. “MATEO NEEDS TO BE IN TROUBLE. ELLIE IS CRYING.” They can, in fact, hear Ellie’s sobs through the door.
“I’m…” Jane groans as Petra’s tongue flicks against her clit. “Give us a second!” she manages to yell out. Petra laughs, sucking on her clit as Jane’s hips jump up again.
Jane comes as Anna starts screaming, “NO WAY, MAMA. RIGHT NOW! MATEO, YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!” Jane clamps her hands over her mouth to try and keep herself quiet.
Petra wipes her mouth and leaves Jane on the bed, her breath still coming out in short bursts. She quickly wraps a robe around herself and slips out of the door, almost knocking Anna over she’s so close.
“Mommy,” she says forcefully, “punish him,” she jams her pointer finger down the hall at her brother, the death glare of all death glares etched onto her face. Ellie, sobs and holds Anna’s other hand beside her.
“Mateo,” Petra calls out, much more calmly than Anna would like. “Did you take Ellie’s doll?”
Mateo, all of five years old and a massive head of curly black hair, shuffles his feet back and forth and doesn’t look Petra in the eye. There is something behind his back. Petra sighs.
“HE DID!” Anna screams.
“Anna,” Petra chides, “stop yelling.” Turning to Mateo she crosses her arms over her chest and waits. “Mateo?” she prompts after a moment. Miserably, he drags his feet over towards her and presents the doll from behind his back. “Thank you,” Petra takes it and passes it over to Ellie, still sniffling. Anna immediately wraps her arms around her sister.
“I’m sorry,” Mateo mumbles. “I wanted to play.”
Petra turns back towards the twins. “Did you kick him out again?” she directs towards Anna.
Four years old and terrified of nothing, Anna sticks her chin up in the air. “We didn’t do that.”
“They did!” Mateo yells.
“No,” Anna says calmly. “That’s not true. He’s lying.”
“I’m not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“NO, I AM NOT!”
“Everyone, stop talking,” Petra uses the same voice that she taught Jane, the day she ended up giving birth to the twins. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. All three of her children are immediately silent. It only works when Petra does it, something that she can’t help but feel a little bit vindicated by. “Girls, you are not allowed to exclude Mateo. Mateo, you are not allowed to take their things away from them in retaliation. All of you, go play and get along,” with that, Petra walks back into her bedroom and shuts the door.
“Petra!” she hears Jane hiss. “What if they—”
Petra holds up a hand, and they both listen. Anna is dictating the new rules of their game, fight forgotten already. Petra looks at Jane smugly. “You were saying?”
“And you once thought that you’d be terrible at this,” Jane yanks her forward by her robe strap, peeling it off and pushing Petra down onto the bed. By the time they hear the children moving downstairs, Jane’s tongue has already made Petra forget as well.
…
…
“I think this is a stupid idea,” Petra announces, for the third time. Luisa and Anezka pay her no attention. “Did you hear me?”
“We did,” Luisa finally answers.
“We’re ignoring you,” Anezka adds.
Petra frowns. “Fuck you both,” she says, much more childishly than she intends. Luisa reaches a hand behind her and pats at whatever part of Petra she can manage to hit—the side of her arm, a chunk of hair, then, whacking her in the nose. Petra shoves her away.
“Don’t be mean,” Luisa whines.
“Me!?” Petra gapes. “Me be mean? What about the two of you? What exactly are you doing now?”
“Spending your money,” Anezka says, finally looking up from Petra’s laptop. She grins at her sister and Petra glares back. Anezka is undeterred. She’s spent far too much time with Luisa in the last four years. “It’s for a good cause,” she shrugs, then goes back to what she’d been doing.
Luisa points at the screen. “That one,” she says, then rises and walks over to Petra. Her arms encircle her for a moment, loosely draping themselves around Petra’s jumpy frame. “You’re panicking,” she grins a little, not quite feeling it.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Luisa’s more subdued now, realizing that this isn’t a joke.
Petra doesn’t actually know how to answer that. There is no discernible reason for her to be panicking at all. Except, that she is.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly, ashamed. Dr. Villafañe told her once that children who grow up in abusive households—physical or not—sometimes will just… revert. A momentary panic attack, or bout of uncomfortableness that cannot be explained, or is seemingly triggered by anything. Except, that there is a trigger, some explanation to be found. Perhaps not until much later.
Petra looks over at Anezka, sitting at her desk and shopping for a new school backpack for Mateo’s first day of kindergarten.
And now, she knows why she’s panicking.
“Shit,” Petra mumbles. “I’m fine, sorry.”
Luisa frowns at her, the arms still loosely hugging, as if unsure if they’re helping or hurting. “Petra…” she trails off, sharing a worried glance with Anezka.
“I’m fine,” Petra insists, sounding much more convincing this time. “It’s… old shit.” Their code word. I’m not okay, but I also am going to be in a few minutes. Luisa uses it when she’s feeling crappy about her alcoholism, or her dead mother, her jailed former lover, her daddy issues, any one of the few. Petra uses it mainly when things with her mother, her childhood, or her shitty former marriages crop up.
A code.
Give me a minute.
Luisa nods, the arms around Petra tightening for a momentary squeeze, then gone. Luisa steps back over near Anezka, who frowns at Petra from her spot. Petra gives her a weak smile and waves her off as she moves over to get a glass of water. Anezka doesn’t really get the code. Not in the way that Luisa and Petra do. She wants to talk. Rehash it all with a surgeon’s precision. Leave no rock un-turned and no scar un-prodded.
Therapy is doing some wonders for her childhood trauma as well. Anezka has no problems talking about it. In fact, she can’t seem to stop. (She might be afraid of what happens when she finally does.) Petra tolerates it for a few minutes, then tells her to call her therapist. She’s the person that Anezka needs to talk about all of this with. At least most of the time.
“Do you not like the backpack?” she asks.
“The backpack is fine. Mateo will love it.”
Anezka frowns up at her. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Anezka clearly doesn’t believe her. Petra sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “My first day of school was terrible. I didn’t have a backpack. This made me think about getting teased and Mother being awful. That’s all.” Her voice softens and her arms drop down to her sides. “I’m fine, really,” she assures Anezka.
Anezka’s frown doesn’t go away, but she nods. “Okay. We can talk about it if you want.”
“I don’t want.”
“It’s healthy if you talk about it.”
Luisa snorts and pushes Anezka over. “I’m buying the damn backpack. Jane will be surprised. Mateo will be surprised. Everybody is going to be happy. There!” she jumps up with a flourish. “Now, can we get something to eat please? I’m starving. We can keep talking about our collective crappy childhoods if you want. As long as I get a burger or something too.”
“Oh!” Anezka lights up. “I would also like a burger.”
Petra rolls her eyes and grabs her purse. “Fine, hamburgers all around. And we have to talk about something other than our crappy childhoods for the majority of the lunch, or I’m leaving.”
Anezka wraps her arms around Petra and squeezes tight. Her hugs are always as tight and as long as possible. Petra actually looks forward to them.
Sometimes.
Now, she shoves her sister off. “Ugh, come on.”
Anezka and Luisa both catch the smile that’s on Petra’s face.
…
…
Jane sobs.
Petra does not sob, but there are a surprising amount of tears as she watches Mateo’s floppy dark hair bounce as he jumps onto the school bus. He gets a window seat and waves happily at the both of them as the bus pulls away. And Jane sobs as she waves back, one hand clutched tightly into Petra’s.
Petra doesn’t take her eyes away until the bus is out of her sight. “Fuck,” she mutters, “he’s old enough for school.”
“I hate this,” Jane knocks her head down into Petra’s chest, forcing a hug like Ellie does. Petra bites back her smile, Jane wouldn’t appreciate it right now. “I miss him already.”
“He’ll be back in six hours.”
Jane snaps her head up, nearly colliding with Petra’s chin. “How are you so blasé about this?” she takes in Petra’s face, and then her voice softens. “Oh, you aren’t. You’re doing that whole ‘sucking in all your emotions’ thing,” she pinches Petra’s arm a bit, just enough to make her flinch, not enough to hurt. “Stop it,” she almost pouts.
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” she can hear the hint of a pout forming in her own voice. Her spine straightens in response.
“I know,” Jane says, curling into Petra gently this time. “But stop it anyway, okay?”
Petra chuckles, the tightness in her gut from the sight of Mateo being driven away from her loosening a bit. “I’ll do my best,” she assures Jane. “No promises though.”
“Ugh, I’m gonna go inside and cry and make both of the girls hug me for an hour. Want to come?”
“I have to get to work,” Petra allows Jane to tug her back into the house. “But… maybe for a minute.”
“They’re gonna be in school next year too,” Jane groans. “Why are they all so big already?”
“Mama!” Ellie yells from somewhere, probably the kitchen. “Anna spilled milk!”
“Ellie spilled too!”
Definitely the kitchen.
Jane groans as she walks ahead of Petra and they take in the disaster area. Milk is indeed all over the counter top and the floor. Ellie has even somehow managed to coat most of her hair with it. She’s on top of the counter, one of her knees curled up in half a squat, brown hair dripping with almond milk, smacking at the puddle with a gleeful little grin. Anna is standing up in her chair, milk down the front of her purple nightgown, hair disheveled and bushy from sleep, frowning at her sister.
“Girls,” Petra sighs, “why?”
“Look, Mommy,” Ellie smacks at the puddle again. Oat milk flicks her sisters face.
“Stop!” Anna yells.
Jane reaches over and lifts Ellie off of the table with one arm and not a word other than, “Bath.” Ellie’s protests can be heard all the way upstairs. Jane shuts each one down calmly, almost happily. Ellie’s milk nonsense is probably the perfect distraction for Jane right now.
Petra turns to their other daughter. Anna is still standing on top of her chair, very annoyed. She pulls the front of her nightgown out away from her chest. “Look!” she yells. “She ruined it!”
“It’s not ruined, Anna,” Petra gets a towel and starts cleaning up the mess. “It just needs to be washed. Take it off, we’ll put it in the washing machine.”
Anna wastes no time. She yanks her nightgown up over her head and holds it out, shivering in just her underwear, still sticky and wet from the milk. “Mommy, now please” she insists.
Petra mops up the last of the spill, (Ellie’s puddle was significant enough to need three towels) and takes the nightgown. Anna, holds her arms out as well, waiting to be picked up. Of all her children, Anna is the least physically affectionate. She squirms away from hugs after a few seconds. She wants to walk, always, kicking herself out of Rafael’s arms or whomever gets it in their heads to carry her to their destination—as soon as she could wobble on her little legs, she did. She will indulge kisses and hands on her in passing, but never seeks them out herself. Not unless she is miserable, or Jane is around.
She is so much like Petra that it frightens her. Petra doesn’t remember starting out this way. She reached for her mother at that age, she learned to stop when Magda never reached back.
Five years of being surrounded by children—her children—every single day and Petra is certainly used to tiny, sticky hands clawing at her, desperate for attention and affection and immediacy. But, it still catches her by surprise sometimes, whenever Mateo or Ellie will knock their heads into her shoulder or chest, wrapping themselves around her tightly for no other reason than she is right there, and they want to be touching her. Petra doesn’t feel that urge the majority of the time, not even with Jane. Jane’s hands seek her out constantly, and Petra is always happy and reciprocates, but her hands only seek out Jane when there is a reason. A purpose behind them. Never just because.
Perhaps, she’s always had that. Perhaps, Anna inherited it from her. So, when Anna reaches for her, Petra knows that there is a good enough reason in her daughter's head to do so.
And so she always, always, reaches back.
“Mateo’s gone,” Anna says as Petra lifts her up into her arms. The twins are still tiny. Light as anything, and easy to pick up and carry short distances. Mateo, has long since surpassed Petra’s ability to carry him. A fact that shocked her the last time she tried. (Jane found her, crying in the shower and slipped in, wrapping her arms around Petra tightly. You could give him a piggyback. She joked. That’s still well within the realm of possibility. Petra scoffed at her and started washing her hair. But she did give Mateo a piggyback the very next day.) Petra wonders how much longer it will be before she can’t lift her daughters and carry them hardly any length of distance. Next year? When they start school, too? Or later, when they finally have a significant growth spurt.
She’s not looking forward to it. Oddly enough.
“He’s in school,” Petra explains, setting Anna on top of the dryer and tossing her nightgown into the wash. “Remember, we told you he was going. He’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Three o’clock,” Anna supplies, pushing the bottle of detergent towards Petra. “Will we go get him?”
“No,” Petra closes the lid and turns the wash on. “He’ll come back on the bus too, remember?” she bends down and finds a clean t-shirt, tugging it over Anna’s head. Anna cooperates and stands up, her arms using Petra’s shoulders to steady herself as Petra helps her step into one of her favorite skirts.
“Will you be here when he gets home?” she asks. “Will Mama?”
“Jane will be here,” Petra finds a brush and gets to work, gently tugging the knots out of her daughter’s thin, white blonde hair. “She’s working from home today. Which means that you and Ellie need to be—”
“Quiet and not fight while Mama’s trying to write,” Anna fills in. “I know.”
Jane has been working on the final stages of her first novel for the last year. She’s finally got an agent and an editor, and a publishing date. A real company is publishing her novel. It’s been almost three and a half years in the making, but her thesis idea is now about to be a reality. Alba’s life story, fictionalized and dramatized and perfect. Petra has been allowed to read each new draft, and it’s stunning. She’s so proud that it makes her a little nauseous. (Jane kissed her silly when Petra told her that.)
Petra begins braiding Anna’s hair. One French braid, just the way she likes it. Ellie likes her hair down and wild.
“So,” Anna repeats, turning around and facing Petra once she’s done with her hair. “Will you be here? Will Daddy?”
“I’m going to try, but probably not. Rafael and I have a big meeting this afternoon. It probably won’t be over by three. Jane is going to bring all of you to The Marbella. We’re going to have dinner to celebrate.”
“All of us?” Anna asks. Petra knows that she means, is everyone coming. Alba, Luisa, Anezka, Xiomara and Rogelio. The whole family.
“Not tonight. It’s a school night. We’ll celebrate with Rafael, and then this weekend I’m sure there will be something with everyone.”
Anna considers this, her lips pursing together in thought. “Will this happen when Ellie and I go to school, too?” she asks.
“Yes. We’ll have a party for the two of you when it’s your turn.”
“Next year?”
“Yes, next year. You have to by five by December 1st, so you two can't go this year.”
Petra hears Ellie and Jane coming back downstairs, a similar conversation playing out from the sounds of it. Just louder and with much more enthusiasm coming from the both of them. Anna looks up at Petra, locking eyes with her. “Okay, Mommy,” she shrugs. “See you later,” she holds her arms out for help down from the dryer, and then she’s off, looking for Ellie.
Petra goes off to get ready for work, she’s already later than she wanted to be.
She’s rushing down into the kitchen eleven minutes later, makeup done, laptop bag in hand, searching for her purse and coffee when Jane steps right in front of her, both things in her hands and a smirk on her face. “Hi,” she says.
“I’m late,” Petra slings the purse onto her shoulder and reaches for the coffee mug. Jane holds it away from her. “Jane,” Petra whines. “I’m late.”
Jane’s eyebrows go up, and she just waits. Petra rolls her eyes, kisses Jane, and grabs the coffee out of her hand. “Mateo is old enough for kindergarten,” Jane complains once Petra pulls away.
“I know,” Petra kisses Jane one more time. “I hate it a little bit, too,”
“You hate it a lot!” Jane yells as Petra runs out the door. “Admit it! Girls, tell her to admit it!”
Ellie runs to the open door, watching Petra throw her things into her car. “ADMIT IT, MOMMY!” she yells gleefully. “Admit what?” she asks, turning back towards Jane.
“Defeat,” Anna supplies, coming up behind her sister. “Right, Mama?”
“CLOSE ENOUGH!” Jane yells.
Petra turns around, holding the door to the driver’s seat open. “You know that we’re the loudest people who live on this street, right?”
“ADMIT YOUR DEFEAT, MOMMY!” Ellie screams. Jane grins and Anna laughs, bright and loud.
Petra rolls her eyes, climbs into the car, and pulls out of the driveway. “Never,” she calls out happily, and drives to work with a shit-eating grin on her face.
…
…
Jane stops breathing.
Petra drops the newspaper that she was reading and gets up out of her seat. “Is that it?” she asks, almost reverently.
Jane can only nod and stare down at the package before her, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Mama’s crying!” Mateo yells. “Why?”
Ellie and Anna look up from their pancakes and frown simultaneously. Not a single person in this household can handle it when Jane is upset.
“They're happy tears, baby,” Jane finally gets out. “There… oh my God,” she gasps and holds up her book. Hardcover, published, ready to go out to all the stores in the world. It’s beautiful.
“That’s her book,” Petra says proudly. She walks over and kisses Jane deeply. All three children groan and make faces before turning back to their breakfasts. “You wrote a book,” she whispers. Jane nods, tears flowing madly now.
“I did!”
“I’m so proud of you,” Petra kisses her again and she feels Jane melt against her.
“Mama wrote a book!!” Ellie yells, brandishing her fork around like a flag. Syrup flies around the kitchen. “Wahoo! Can I read it?”
“You can’t read good enough,” Mateo grumbles. “I can though, can I read it, Mama? Cause I’m in first grade!”
“I can too, read!” Ellie yells. “I’m in Kindergarten and I’m the best reader in my class!” she turns towards Jane indignantly. “I can, Mama, right?”
“Yes, Ellie,” Jane says. “You’re a fantastic reader for your age. All of you are. But I think probably you won’t read my book for a few years. I’ll read some of it to all of you though, I promise.”
Ellie turns and looks at Mateo, he shrugs and Ellie mimics him. “Okay,” she says, and turns back to her pancakes.
“I wrote a book,” Jane whispers a moment later.
Petra picks it up and looks at it. “Yes,” she beams, “you did.”
…
…
Petra doesn’t move. Not one inch.
Anezka keeps prattling on, but Petra has tuned her out. The hum of her words feels like tiny glass shards nicking at her skin. It’s only Jane’s hand, coming up to the small of Petra’s back and rubbing slowly, that knocks Petra back into herself.
“No,” she says, low and firm.
“But, Petra—”
“No.”
“She’s different,” Anezka continues on as if Petra hasn’t made herself perfectly clear. As if she hasn’t made herself abundantly clear on this issue for years. “Obviously she’s never going to be mother of the year, but she’s trying at least. Don’t you think that counts for something?”
Petra can feel Jane’s hand on back, it’s the only thing keeping her from losing her cool completely. “No. I don’t think it counts for anything, not after what she’s done. I don’t care if she’s sorry, or if she feels bad about it. She should. My children are never going to meet her. And I’m not going to change my mind about that, no matter how many times you visit her and say that she seems different. So stop asking me, or you won’t be seeing them anymore, either,” she snaps.
“Petra,” Jane admonishes. But she’s gone. Up out of her chair, out of Jane’s arms, and far away from Anezka’s hurt face. She can hear Jane consoling and reasuring her sister.
She locks herself in the bathroom.
Hilariously, or ironically, Petra considers, for a concerning length of time, barricading herself in here for the remainder of the night. It’s the same bathroom she thought about locking herself up in the very first night that she stayed with Jane. Like then, she knows that Jane would just come in and break the door down or do something else dramatically ridiculous.
Probably sick the children on her. Ellie would only be delighted to bang on the door or crawl through the bathroom window to get Petra out. She could do it without any help too, there’s a reason they’ve put her in gymnastics. She won’t stop climbing on top of things, she might as well know what she’s doing.
Petra looks at herself in the mirror and straightens her shoulders. Her necklace falls out of her blouse and Petra loops a finger inside of it, pulling it back and forth on its chain. The ring stays black. Both rings lost their ability to change colors about two years ago. Five years for a cheap CVS mood ring seems like a longer time than expected. They’ve both got real wedding bands on their fingers now, the mood rings hang around their necks, stupidly sentimental.
There’s a knock on the door, Petra sighs.
“It’s me,” Jane’s voice calls out softly.
“Come in.”
Jane slips through the door, closing it behind her and surveys Petra. She’s looking for tears, or any other sign of a breakdown. She doesn’t find any. Petra has long since used up all of her tears on Magda.
“Hi,” Jane says softly and moves to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
“I’m fine,” Petra insists, dropping her hold on the necklace. Jane’s eyes, always aware of her, follow the movement, and she smiles. Petra can’t resist smiling back at her. A fact that after seven years, is still just a little bit annoying. “I am,” she says. “I’m just sick of her asking me. I hate that she goes to see her. I hate that she’s giving her this power over her. She’s—” Petra shoves some hair out of her face. “She doesn’t know what Magda is like, not really. Telling her about it doesn’t seem to quite get through, and I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s going to get hurt,” Petra adds in a whisper. “And I can’t stop it.”
“Petra,” Jane says, very, very carefully. Whatever is about to come out of her wife’s mouth, Petra is not going to like. “Maybe, you need to just… let them have a relationship.”
Petra laughs, but there’s a stretched sound to it. “Excuse me?”
Jane shifts, sitting up straighter and gearing up for a proper speech. Petra nearly walks out of the bathroom before she can say another word, but she grounds her feet into the floor instead.
“Look, Magda is a terrible person. I don’t think any amount of prison is ever going to really change that. But, prison is designed to be a punishment that changes you. Forces you to really think about what you’ve done to land yourself there. The whole point is to try and make you a better person than when you came in, right?”
“She’s not getting out,” Petra hisses. “She got twenty-five years. She’ll die in there.”
“Probably, yeah. And Anezka knows that. And… look, she doesn’t understand how you feel, no matter how many times you try to explain it to her, because she didn’t live it. She can sympathize, but she’s never going to get it in the way that you do. And, Petra, you’re never going to understand why she might need this, no matter how many times she tries to tell you.”
“What!? Jane, she—”
“Wants to get to know the woman who gave birth to her. That’s not a crime, Petra,” she adds gently.
“She wants the girls to visit with her!” Petra snaps. “Are you… seriously?”
“That’s not happening,” Jane says firmly. “We’ve already talked about that, many times. I’m right there with you, I don’t want them anywhere near her, and I think going to visit someone in prison would be scary and confusing for them anyway. But…”
“But, what?”
“But they’re seven, and they’re smart, and I think they deserve to know about her. I think they’re old enough to at least be told the very basics. I don’t want to lie to them. And I think Anezka is right on that count.”
Petra doesn’t answer. She looks out the window and sucks in a breath. And, then she laughs, just on the side of bitter as a mess of wild brown curls appears in the window, and whispers of ‘can you see them?’ come from below.
Jane rolls her eyes, noticing the same thing as Petra. “Speak of the devils,” she moves to get up and open the window fully, surprising Ellie.
“Oh, hi Mama,” Ellie says, crouched halfway on top of Anna’s back, one leg up on a branch.
“Oh, hi Mama,” Jane reaches out and starts hauling Ellie inside. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“Um…” Ellie presses her lips together, waiting for Anna to come up with a better line.
“Can I come in, too?” Anna asks, trying her hand at climbing into the window on her own. Petra grabs at her quickly before she slips. She’s not as deft as her sister. She refuses to take any sort of gymnastics class. For her, she wants ballet, soccer, or nothing.
The two of them are still light as anything, and Petra hauls Anna up without too much effort. “Why exactly are the two of you climbing through your grandmother’s window?”
“Cause we wanted to know what was going on,” Anna says, without preamble. “Everyone is being weird.”
Ellie situates herself on Jane’s lap, the two of them back on the edge of the bathtub. Petra sighs, locking eyes with Jane and giving her the barest of nods as she sinks down on top of the toilet seat. Anna hovers beside her, standing between everyone and waiting. Jane sucks in a breath and starts for Petra, for which she is eternally grateful. She has no idea where to begin with this.
Petra sits there while Jane explains (in very minimal detail) about Petra’s mother and her childhood. The children already know that Petra grew up in the Czech Republic. They all understand a handful of Czech words, and they know that Petra and Anezka didn’t grow up together. Jane fills in a few more blanks, Ellie looking slightly confused and angry on her lap, and Anna, giving away nothing.
Finally, Petra interjects and takes over. She doesn’t sugar coat anything, not that Jane was trying to, but she puts it out there much more bluntly than Jane does. Anna’s eyes never leave her face. Ellie becomes as righteous as Jane once she hears about Magda having Petra arrested. It takes a few minutes to calm her down enough to finish the entire story.
“I hate her,” Ellie declares, face full of fury. She slumps further back into Jane’s chest and crosses her arms. “I’m not going with Aunt Anezka.”
“You don’t have to,” Jane reassures her, rubbing at her arms. “We’d actually rather that you didn’t, we just wanted to let you both know.”
“Does Mateo know?” Anna asks, the first words that she’s spoken since they began.
“He knows a little already,” Petra tells her. “We’ll be telling him the same thing that we told you later tonight.”
Anna considers this. She hasn’t moved towards either Jane, Ellie or Petra during this entire conversation, and her face has remained blank throughout. Petra knows that this means nothing, her mind is whirling, she just knows how to hide it. Petra sucks in a breath, she knows what Anna is going to say only seconds before it comes out of her mouth.
“I want to go see her,” Anna says, quietly but with conviction.
“Anna,” Jane starts, “that’s not really what we—”
“I want to go see her,” Anna repeats, looking between Petra and Jane.
Ellie gapes at her sister. “I don’t,” she repeats, crawling off of Jane’s lap and passing her sister as she crawls onto Petra’s, wrapping her arms tightly around Petra’s neck and hugging her. “I don’t want to meet her. She’s mean, and I hate her, and I love you,” she whispers this last part into Petra’s neck, but all three of them hear her.
“You don’t have to,” Jane says. “Anna, I’m not sure this…” she locks eyes with Petra, and Petra knows that her own face mirrors their daughter’s at the moment: carefully blank to the outside world. Jane sighs. “We’ll think about it,” she settles on.
Anna turns towards Petra and looks her right in the eye. “I want to go see her,” she says one more time, and then she slips out of the bathroom, through the door this time.
“She can’t, Mom,” Ellie insists once Anna is gone. “No,” she tightens her grip on Petra, refusing to be put down once Petra tries to stand. Thank god she is still light enough that Petra can lift her, because she refuses to be put down all throughout dinner, situating herself on Petra’s lap while they all gather around the small table. Anezka is still here, and Rafael and Luisa have joined them, there isn’t much elbow room to go around. But, these dinners with everyone have become something of a Sunday night tradition for the last couple of years. They’re used to not having much space.
Rafael and Mateo are talking excitedly about his upcoming soccer game. Raf tries multiple times to include Anna in the conversation (she’s on the same soccer team) but she’s quiet tonight, staring across the table at Petra for most of the evening, only offering up one-word answers when spoken to. Petra can’t figure out exactly what’s going on in her head, and she hates it. Ellie takes up most of her focus. She’s reverting to much more childlike behavior than they’ve seen from her in years, cuddly and whiny and refusing to allow anyone apart from herself to take up any of Petra’s attention.
Finally, once dessert has come around, Mateo has had enough. “STOP BEING A BABY!” he yells at her.
Ellie begins to bawl, and with that, the night is over.
Since she’s already in her arms, and absolutely determined to stay there, Petra lifts Ellie up, thanks Alba and kisses her on the way out to the car. She can hear both Jane and Rafael reprimanding Mateo, and shuffling both him and Anna along behind them. It’s getting late anyway, and it’s a school night.
“No,” Ellie yells as Petra tries to deposit her into the backseat.
“Elsa,” Petra starts prying her arms off from the death grip they’ve got around her neck. “Stop it, now.”
“NO!” Ellie screams again.
“Why is she doing that?” Mateo asks as they come up to the car, frustration in his voice.
“Mateo, in the car,” Jane says firmly. He groans, and kicks out at the dirt, but hugs Rafael goodbye and complies.
“Bye, Daddy,” Anna says, the first words that Petra has heard her speak in about an hour. She sees Anna tug his hand to get him to bend down. He wraps her up in a hug and melts. Despite the way the evening has gone, Petra can’t help but smirk at that. Still hilarious, and still always useful.
Anna climbs into the backseat beside Mateo, and both of them watch Ellie have a fit as Rafael helps pry her away from Petra. She screeches. Of the, I hate you Daddy, I hate you Mama, I hate everyone variety. Rafael and Jane take it in stride, it’s hardly her first temper tantrum in the last seven years, and likely, it won’t be her last. Rafael manages to hold her flailing limbs down and buckle her without so much as a scratch, and once she’s realized defeat, Ellie slumps, wailing but no longer trying to break free. Anna leans over and whispers something into Mateo’s ear.
“NO SECRETS!” Ellie screams. “MOM! THAT’S NOT FAIR. IT’S A RULE!”
Jane pulls the car away from the curb, waving to Rafael as Petra slumps in the passenger seat, exhausted and wondering why the hell she ever thought that having children was a good idea. The twenty minutes that it takes them to drive back home are unbearable, Ellie will not be silenced, not now that she is truly on a roll. Jane talks to her the entire drive anyway, her voice calm but loud, rising above Ellie’s pitches and wails. She talks about nonsense. The actual words don’t matter, just the hum of Jane’s gentle voice, lulling Ellie into a sense of calm by the time that they pull into their driveway.
Mateo and Anna bust out of the car together and run inside, Petra calling out at them to wash their faces and put on their pajamas. She and Jane wait for Ellie to climb out of the car herself, though she tries, holding her hands up and waiting for Petra to lift her.
“No, you’re old enough to walk,” she says, not harshly, but firm. “Let’s go.”
Ellie looks at Jane, hopeful, but Jane merely shakes her head. Ellie’s head drops down to her chest and she shuffles out of the car miserably. “Can I please sleep with you two?” she asks once they’ve gotten inside. “Please?”
Petra looks at Jane and Jane shrugs. “If you start behaving, then I suppose so,” Petra says.
Ellie perks up immediately. “I will!” She yells and runs up the stairs to go get ready for bed.
“I have a headache,” Petra groans. “And we should talk to Mateo.”
“I can, if you’re too tired—”
“No, I should be there,” Petra says. “It’s about me. It should come from me.” Jane’s arm slips around Petra’s waist, and next thing that she knows, she is being pulled into a hug. Petra sinks into it. “He knows some of it already, it won’t take as long as with the girls.”
“I’m gonna go make sure they’re really getting ready, and I’ll meet you in his room?”
“Okay.”
Jane goes off, and Petra heads towards Mateo’s bedroom. He’s already in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, scribbling away at something at his desk. Petra knocks on the door frame. Mateo’s head whips around and he smiles at the sight of her. “Mom, look,” he holds up the picture he had been drawing. Soccer plays from the looks of it. He and Anna are both obsessed. “We’ll totally win with this!”
Petra takes it from him and pretends that it’s something she can understand. She nods and passes it back to him. “Looks great.”
Mateo rolls his eyes. “You don’t know what it means, do you?” he sets his things back up and heads towards his bed.
“No,” Petra admits. “But you’re very good at soccer already, and you know what it means, and I’m sure that it’s brilliant.”
Mateo seems satisfied with this, and he climbs into his bed. “So, why is Ellie being a baby tonight? And why’s Anna being all… Weird Anna?”
(Scary Petra. Weird Anna. Of course, Mateo and Raf would coin terms for their specific moods).
Petra sits down at the edge of his bed and sighs. “We told them about my mother tonight. Do you remember anything about her?”
Mateo frowns as he thinks, then shrugs. “She’s in jail. She’s a bad lady.”
“Yes. Both of those things are true, but there’s a little more to it.” Mateo waits patiently for her to continue. A trait that he has inherited from Jane. It’s astounding, how this little boy can calm Petra down almost as easily as his mother can. She sighs, and tells him the whole story as bluntly as she told the girls. About growing up dirt poor at the tail end of the Normalization era and even more so, after the fall of the Communism, moving from cramped flat to cramped flat. About learning to play the violin for money, her hands bleeding from so much practice, carving out a skill from nothing. About Milos—the barest amount that she can tell him—and moving to America. About her marriage to Rafael, some of which, he already knows. About her mother’s schemes, about Alba, about the wheelchair, his birth, the divorce, and about Milos again. When she reaches Ivan, she hesitates, and Jane jumps in from the doorway.
Mateo gives her his rapt attention, his reactions somewhere in between Anna’s blank face and Ellie’s outraged one. By the time she and Jane finish, he’s quietly angry. He takes a beat, then crawls over and wraps himself around Petra.
“That’s not fair, Mom,” he whispers. “I don’t want to meet her, either. I’m glad that she’s in jail.”
“You don’t have to,” Petra assures him. “And, so am I.”
“I love you,” he says, then pulls back and kisses both of her cheeks, then her forehead, then her chin. He hasn’t done that routine in years. Petra laughs, just like she knows he wanted, and he bends over to kiss Jane goodnight too before lying back down.
They shut off his light and head back into the hall. “Anna wants you to come say goodnight,” Jane says. “I’ll meet you in our room?”
Petra nods and steps into the girls’ bedroom. “Anna,” she says quietly. Anna is sitting up in bed, waiting. Petra walks over and sits down across from her, just like she had been with Mateo only a few moments ago.
“Did you tell Mateo?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Anna waits. Then, “Did he act like Ellie?”
“No, not quite.”
“Am I going to get to go see her?”
Petra picks at the edge of the blanket. “Why do you want to?” she asks.
“I don’t,” Anna says. “I need to.”
That gets Petra’s attention. She studies her daughter’s face, searching for answers. It’s amazing, how old and wise Anna can come across sometimes, but she’s not. She’s just a little girl.
“Why do you need to?”
“Because of you.”
Petra frowns. “Anna…”
“Yes, or no, Mommy?”
No is on the tip of her tongue, pressing against the roof of her mouth and ready to snap out. No. And that will be that. But, she can see in Anna’s face that it won’t. The ‘no’ will only make her more insistent. This will go on and on. Anna is serious, whatever this is about, Petra can see it in her eyes—she does need this.
“Okay,” she finally says, her voice raw. “I’ll take you.”
That surprises Anna. She must have been under the impression that this would be a trip with her aunt, but there is no way in hell that Petra is going to let her mother anywhere near one of her children without being present. Not a chance.
“Okay,” Anna agrees. “Night, Mom, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Petra says, and tucks her in. By the time she makes it back to her bed, she’s so bone tired she might actually be in danger of passing right out. Ellie is fighting off sleep waiting for her, and Petra sinks down into the bed, Ellie immediately curling into her and Jane’s arm slipping across them both.
“You okay?” Jane whispers over Ellie’s head. Now that she’s seen Petra, she’s out cold.
“I’m going to take Anna to see my mother,” Petra says. She watches Jane’s eyes narrow and then go soft again. She doesn’t like it. Petra doesn’t either.
“Okay,” Jane says after a beat. “We should definitely get some sleep, then.”
Petra chokes out a laugh and bends over to kiss Jane. “I love you,” she whispers.
Jane smiles. “Yeah, I know.”
…
…
Anna stands stiffly beside Petra, looking out into the small room that Magda will be brought to. It’s dark, and ugly and reflects Petra’s feelings perfectly. She hasn’t been inside of this room in seven years, not since Anna’s birth. Now, she looks over at her daughter, an almost mirror image of her younger self, and swallows thickly.
“Will she be in handcuffs?” Anna asks, her first question since coming inside the building.
“Yes. Her feet might be bound as well. They were the last time I was here, but I don’t know if they will be now.”
“I was a baby when you came here?” Anna’s gaze keeps shooting all over the room, landing on the mirror, then the door, the table, back to Petra, then starting all over again.
“A few weeks old, yes.”
Anna finally turns and looks at Petra, holding her gaze for the first time since they got into the car. “And you told her that she couldn’t meet me and Ellie. Or Mateo?”
“Yes.”
Anna watches the door. Both of them hear footsteps approaching. Petra sits up straighter on instinct, sucking in her stomach, smoothing down her hair, forcing a neutral look onto her face. Anna watches her every movement. She doesn’t smooth any bit of herself down, but she does sit up with her back rigid against the chair, her tiny feet not reaching the floor.
And then, her mother is in her sights, and Petra sucks in a small breath at the sight of her, unable to help it. She looks… old. Magda has always been a rough looking woman, her life is etched onto her face and body, but this… never in her entire life has Petra looked at her mother and thought of her as fragile, until now. Her hair has gone completely gray and thinned out, and she’s lost weight—a lot of it. Magda looks like a gentle breeze might knock her over. Petra feels something like guilt twist in her gut, but she forces it down once Magda’s eyes lock with her own.
Her mother smirks, and she doesn’t look so fragile anymore.
“Petra,” she drawls, taking her time to shuffle over to the opposite side of the table. Her eyes never leave Petra’s once. She doesn’t look over at Anna. “You finally drag yourself out to see me.”
“Hello, Mother,” Petra says, as politely as possible. “This is my daughter, Anna,” Petra’s arm gently rests over Anna’s shoulder, and she feels her daughter relax, just slightly, at the touch.
Magda finally looks at her. She snorts. “Spitting image of you. I thought that I was never going to have the pleasure of meeting any of your brats?”
“Anna wanted to meet you,” Petra rubs at her shoulder with her thumb, small enough motions that Anna will feel it, but Magda won’t see.
“And why is that?” Magda directs at Anna. She hangs back, suddenly unsure, her palms pressing against her tights. Her favorite, light pink ones that they have to constantly chase through the wash. “Speak up, girl,” Magda snaps. “I don’t exactly have all the time in the world.”
“Don’t talk to her that way,” Petra says, low and dangerous. Magda looks up at her, amused and gives her a patronizing nod of acquiescence. Anna’s eyes are on Petra now, not down at her lap. After a beat, she does some kind of movement that could mean anything, and turns back towards Magda, back as straight as Petra’s was when addressing her mother at that age. Petra hates it. She hates watching Anna, always so precise and sure of herself and her body, forcing herself to look unafraid or uncomfortable in the face of her grandmother. She regrets coming here. They should just leave.
But she can feel it, Anna’s not done. The only reason that Petra allowed this was the determined look in her daughter’s face. The need there. She hasn’t yet done whatever she came here to do or see.
So, Petra will play defense until her mother says something that she will not allow.
Magda shifts, trying to get more comfortable. She’s not going to. These chairs are probably designed with the purpose of being painful to sit in. Her hands and feet being shackled together must only add to her pain.
Good. Let her mother be the one to stew in silence for once.
The silence stretches out between the three of them. Grandmother. Mother. Daughter. One, full of hatred and poison. One, possibly damaged goods. The other, the most perfect human being that Petra has ever encountered.
Finally, Anna looks up from her lap, bellicose and body coiled tight as she locks eyes with her grandmother. “You’re a bad person,” she says clearly. “My mom is the best mom in the whole world. You didn’t win,” she pushes her chair away from the table, leaving Magda and Petra both shocked into silence. “I’m never going to come see you again,” Anna adds. She turns and looks at Petra, complete dismissal of Magda and smiles, the warmest and most affectionate that Petra has ever seen. “I’m ready to go, now, Mommy,” she says. “I can wait out there if you’re not done yet.”
“No,” Petra’s voice is a croak compared to Anna’s. She clears it and stands up herself, holding a hand out to Anna. She takes it and swings it back and forth as they move towards the door. “I’m done, too,” Petra looks back at Magda one last time. “I’ve been done with her for a long time now. Goodbye, Mother,” she says, not harshly, but not with any lingering fondness. “I hope the rest of your life is better than was.” She finds that she genuinely means the words. And that’s when she knows, finally, fully, that her mother finally has no more hold over her whatsoever. God, Anezka and Anna were both right, she did need to come back here one last time.
She and Anna walk out into the sunshine, holding hands and smiling. “Shall we get some ice cream?” Petra asks once they get to the car.
“With sprinkles?”
Petra kisses the top of her head, and gently pushes her into the backseat. “Absolutely.”
…
…
Petra walks into The Marbella as quickly as she can, her heels clacking on the hall floor. “Raf,” she begins as she bursts through his door without knocking. “What is it? Are the kids okay—”
“SURPRISE!” a chorus of voices shouts.
Petra screams, “Souložit,” and promptly drops her phone.
“Mom swore!” Mateo yells. Then she’s tackled into a hug by her ten-year-old son, his arms like a vice around her middle for half a second before he releases her. “I know what that meant,” he grins up at her.
“Shut it you,” she says fondly.
“Mommy!” Ellie screams and leaps from somewhere behind her. It’s only due to nine years of Ellie jumping from things like a maniac that Petra has the reflexes to twist around and catch her. Grunting with the effort and nearly falling over. Mateo helpfully tries to hold her up by pushing against her behind.
“Elsa,” Petra gasps. “You have to stop doing that.”
Ellie clings to her like a monkey, still small and wiry enough to get away with it, but not for long. Petra pats at her butt and she wriggles down, still holding her around the middle as Rogelio cuts in front of Alba to kiss her on both cheeks. “You’re forty,” he says, like he’s telling her that she gets a whole chocolate cake to herself. “And you look stunning.” He kisses both cheeks once more while Alba rolls her eyes behind him. “I got you some more of that fantastic cream. It’s brilliant. Best gift you will receive!”
“No way, Grandpa,” Ellie yells, close enough to hear him. “Mine is better!”
“May I hug her now?” Alba gentle pushes Rogelio to the side and wraps her arms around Petra. She melts into it. It’s been a decade of being in this family, and she has never gotten used to the absolute warmth and love that comes from Alba’s hugs. “Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor,” she whispers.
“Gracias,” Petra whispers back.
“Presents!” Ellie screams. “Open mine first!”
“Ellie,” Jane chides lightly. “Be patient.”
Before Jane can move over and hug Petra, Luisa barrels in front of her. Squeezing Petra with just as much force and enthusiasm as Mateo and Ellie combined. “I love you so much. You’re an official old person. Congrats.”
“Forty is not old,” Susanna chides, yanking Luisa back by her shirt. She quickly wraps Petra into a one-armed hug. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Petra says warmly. She accepts hugs from Xiomara, (a fierce, quick tight squeeze and a pinch on the ass that has Jane swatting at her.) Anezka, (bone-crushing.) Michael, (bear hug that lifts her up and spins her around, to Ellie’s delight.) Lina, (small, one-armed, eyebrow raise and a smirk.) Rafael, (warm, familiar with a kiss to her temple and a whispered love you.) And finally, Anna and Jane step forward together, Anna lets Jane hug Petra first, and then she wraps her arms around the both of them, grinning up at Petra.
“My present is the best,” she declares wickedly. Ellie harrumphs from somewhere over by the couch.
Petra is led over to the table and informed that she must try both kinds of brownies. The more misshapen ones were apparently concocted by Rafael and the kids. Petra eyes them a bit dubiously, but bravely takes a large bite. Mateo beams when she bluntly declares them ugly, but delicious.
The party goes on for ages, and Petra cannot believe that this group of people somehow managed to keep a secret like this from her. She never suspected a thing. Not even from Ellie, who can’t keep a secret to save her life. Petra turns to Jane, sitting beside her, as always and laughs. Jane smiles at her, one that has been directed towards Petra thousands of times over the last ten years, but it still hits her just as hard as it did the first time. Petra can’t imagine, if Jane hadn’t been such a romantic, so fierce and sure that anyone, that even Petra deserved better than being blackmailed by Milos, she can’t imagine where she would be today.
Petra swallows, remembering the night in the stairwell. Thinking about how it was the first time Jane had felt real to her since the day they met, and how she didn’t want it to end, and how that was so, so dangerous. To want like that. To be vulnerable, laying all her cards out on the table. And the second time, the two of them sitting with their knees pressed together, almost like children. Jane’s hand slipping into her own, without an ounce of hesitancy.
That night, Jane was one of the few people who had ever listened to Petra. She didn’t run away when Petra started talking about the parts of herself that aren’t pretty, and now, it’s almost like they are living in another life altogether. That night in the stairwell wasn’t an anomaly, and now it’s always like this, sharing their secrets and their dreams like it means something. There is actual friendship and love involved, instead of fight after fight.
Ellie, Anna, and Mateo shove themselves into Petra’s line of view, holding out a present between them so delicately that Petra almost gasps. None of her children are gentle or delicate. Not even Anna.
“Happy Birthday, Petra,” Jane says.
“I thought you were each fighting for the best present,” she jokes.
“It’s all one present,” Mateo explains. “We each helped. With our own money.”
“Mama’s mostly,” Ellis grumbles. “But I put in a lot.”
“Me too!” Mateo adds.
“I gave the most,” Anna says, but she isn’t trying to one-up her siblings, she’s simply stating a fact. Petra laughs and reaches for the present.
She opens it slowly, and then all the breath leaves her body.
They’ve bought her a violin.
Jane smiles at her, and slips her hand into Petra’s once more. Like it’s as easy as breathing. And all three of her children are beaming at her. Petra swallows thickly; she hasn’t touched a violin in almost fifteen years. She hasn’t wanted to. But, now that it’s in her hands, now that her family has given her one…
“I love you,” she says quietly. She means everyone. Every single person in this room, hell, even Lina and Susanna at this point. She opens her mouth to say something else, but she can’t make it work. I love you, is all that she has. More than she ever imagined possible.
Jane, because she’s Jane knows exactly what Petra is trying to convey. Her hand squeezes Petra’s, their wedding bands clicking together, and then she leans forward and places a light kiss to Petra’s lips. “I love you, too,” she whispers.
“Do you like it?” Anna asks, every muscle taunt with worry. Petra reaches for her, and Anna sinks her body right into Petra’s, arms wrapping around her mother tightly.
“I love it,” Petra says, and kisses Anna’s temple. “Thank you,” she looks up and Ellie immediately squeezes herself into Petra’s other side, pushing Jane out a bit. Mateo opts for walking around the couch and dropping himself down from behind her, his arms encircling both her and Jane. “Thank you,” Petra repeats, her voice so soft she’s not sure any of them can hear her. Rogelio whips out his phone and starts snapping photos of them, and Petra is going have to make sure that he sends her a copy, because she wants to be able to remember this moment forever.
She never could have imagined that this is how her life would turn out, that night in the stairwell with Jane. She had just been looking for a way out, a temporary solution until she could figure out her next move. The world twists adults into shapes they never thought that they’d be. Petra never imagined herself like this, with a family and friends who love her. Surrounded by people who Petra knows love her, knows down into the marrow of her bones.
Rafael mentions cake, and Mateo and Ellie are off of her and at their father’s side in a millisecond. Ellie, clambering her way up his back and shouting about who should get the biggest piece. Petra watches as Xiomara juts her hip against Rogelio and laughs, while Alba quickly grabs Mateo’s hand before he tries to eat his piece of cake with his fingers. Luisa is drumming out a beat on Ellie’s back, still monkey-griped to Rafael, and the three of them are all laughing. Michael and Susanna are both regaling Anezka and Lina with some tale of their latest arrest, the both of them always react more dramatically than anyone else apart from Rogelio. And Jane and Anna haven’t left Petra’s side.
Jane smiles at Petra over Anna’s head, and then she leans in once more and kisses her. Anna rolls her eyes, but Petra can see the grin that she is trying to suppress as she leans back into Petra. “Happy birthday, Petra,” Jane says, and the three of them go off to join the rest of their family.