Chapter 116 - Situations at Baptism (Part 1) - Mddos
Diana
If someone had told me that at nineteen I would have a child, my response would have been, only if I were married; otherwise, it would be nonsense. Ever since I had some awareness, that was my dream: to get married, have children, a good career, a beautiful home full of love so my children wouldn’t suffer from the lack of it, which I did experience. I had always said that I would give people what I wasn’t given: love, something I had always longed for. I looked toward the bed and saw my son sleeping, dressed in his white penguin suit, ready for his baptism.
Then I looked out the window, the room overlooked the garden of this immense house. I had never seen such luxury in my life. I grew up in foster homes, thanks to the woman listed on my birth certificate, who claims to be my mother. I have to admit, the best moments of my life were, without a doubt, when I stayed in foster homes. I looked at the scene in the garden; the three dogs of the house were the lady’s darlings and were playing. I looked back at the bed; it was the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in, and my son was sleeping there.
When the doctor confirmed my pregnancy, I felt despair. At first, while accepting the news, I felt so much anger toward what was growing in my womb. But then I remembered my so-called mother. Until I was twelve, she rubbed her misery and bitterness in my face with blows, making it very clear that giving me life had been a mistake. Because of me, she lost many clients. The pregnancy left her with irreparable consequences like a C-section and many stretch marks. The men who paid for her way of life no longer desired her services.
When she was rejected, she took it out on me. While my grandmother was alive, the abuse wasn’t as severe, but from eight to twelve years old, I suffered a lot. I was the servant, the one who prepared the food. That was how I paid for the only meal I was entitled to each day. My salvation during that time was Lucinda’s home; she had a daycare, and in the evening, dinner was a glass of fortified milk and a piece of bread. That was my dinner.
At twelve, after a beating where the neighbors saved me by calling Lucinda to intervene, I was placed under the custody of the Colombian Family Welfare Institute. I went through many foster homes and always ended up at the doors of what had been my salvation. For six years, I didn’t belong anywhere. With the little I learned, because I did take advantage when they taught me to read and write, I continued the curriculum they gave at that state school on my own.
It was complicated; my age didn’t allow me to study normally since a fourteen-year-old girl in first grade was an unheard-of case for a school. At the last school where I made some progress, which was near the house where I lived, I begged the principal, and with his love for his profession, he allowed me to listen and learn from the classes.
I started working very young when I realized that no one was going to adopt me. For a year, I gave my best smiles to the people who visited the orphanage where I was after being saved from my mother’s clutches. No one chose me as their daughter. I can testify that this was the saddest feeling a child could feel, not feeling loved.
The voice of the man in the garden brought me out of my thoughts. I looked at him through the window… Miguel… as reserved as he was attractive. He was already dressed to go to the church, and the clock on the wall confirmed that I needed to go downstairs. I smiled as he scolded one of the dogs, giving them food and water. I had never been in love; I read in the books in the school library in Calarcá what it was like to be in love.
I had to thank God for having come to them. To Mrs. Veronica, who, despite not having an education, gave me such an important position. Now I had the opportunity to study. In the year I had free in this city, I worked as a waitress and managed to get my high school diploma. That helped now because last week I was able to enroll in several online courses at SENA to feel more qualified. As soon as I save a little money, I can enroll in a university.
With Mrs. Veronica, I'll look into what career would be most suitable to support her; I always liked everything related to administration and finance. There was a knock on the door, and before I could give permission, Miguel's body was already inside. To say I was indifferent would be lying to myself. From the moment he carried me that night to when we were freed, I was anchored to him. It felt like my soul had been waiting for him; it was crazy, but that's how I felt. His scent calmed something in my chest, and the silly things he usually did made butterflies flutter in my stomach.
Those beautiful brown eyes, which held so much mystery and captivated me... But what do I have to offer him? I was such a tainted woman, forced to commit all those atrocities. When I refused, they beat me and drugged me to make me submissive and accept everything those disgusting men demanded. I always got hit for not obeying.
The worst part was when they wanted threesomes. I respect sexual preferences, but they should be consensual. I particularly didn't like them, and that was my great torment. We kept looking at each other. I had nothing to offer him. If I disgusted myself, I would be ashamed if Miguel ever found out. I hadn't told Mrs. Veronica yet; those memories still gave me nightmares.
"Are you ready?"
I sighed and nodded. I was still outwardly angry about the foolishness of giving my son his last name, but deep down, I was thrilled. Even if he marries another woman, it will allow me to always be in touch with him for our son's sake. It sounds nice to say it.
"I'll carry Isaac. Can you help me with the diaper bag?"
"You might fall with those heels going down the stairs."
I was about to speak, but with agility, he took the baby in his arms and slung the bag over his shoulder. He looked so handsome, my precious tan-skinned man.
"Diana," I reached his side at the door. "You've grown," he said as I passed by, and I couldn't understand his look.
"What a way to say I'm short."
"You're tiny."
I rolled my eyes, and the cheeky guy smiled at my gesture. Sorry, but no one liked being called short. It was true; I was five feet one inch tall. Next to him, I obviously looked shorter. Miguel must have been six feet tall. I always dreamed of a prince charming. Once in school, they showed a princess movie for the kindergarten kids. I was too old, but the teachers liked me and let me in whenever they showed movies. I fell in love with Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, The Princess and the Frog, and so on.
The problem was that those princesses, as I used to believe in that childish mentality, I was one of them. And over a year ago, I lost all innocence and the possibility of offering something pure to a gallant prince. Since the conversation with Mrs. Vero, I hadn't thought of Miguel as playing the role of the Beast. The men living in this house were no sweet pears; I had heard comments. They were condemned souls waiting to be saved.
"But what a handsome prince."
The godmother took Isaac from his arms. Since Miguel was now the father, he couldn't be the godfather, so Simon would be.
"Diana, you look beautiful."
I was wearing her clothes. Mrs. Vero was taller, even Ines was a couple of inches taller. Well, I was short, but I had my charm, proportionate on all sides. Small, but fierce.
"Ines saved some clothes for tomorrow. After the baptism, we thought of celebrating with a barbecue. I won't throw a party for the reason you know, but I don't want to overlook this special day. Besides, we're family."
"Which farm are we going to?"
Miguel asked as we got into the vehicle he was going to drive, the two gentlemen and the three women with the baby.
"Villavicencio."
I saw sadness in the lady's eyes that she tried to hide. Her father hugged her and kissed her forehead.
"I need to pack several things for Isaac," I said.
"I already packed what’s necessary, Diana," Ines commented. Now I understood why everyone loved her like a mother.
"Thank you. I must say, you make a beautiful grandmother."
She gave a genuine smile. With her skin tone, her teeth looked extremely white. She took my hand and kissed it. Between these two women, they were going to spoil the child. Looking at that little being in the lady's arms, I swore again that I wouldn't treat him the way Mrs. Raquel did. That little angel fed from me, clung to me. He wasn't to blame for what happened. What fault did an innocent being have to receive my anger for the atrocious events I was forced to live through? No, my little one was the only good thing I salvaged from that hell, though the death of my daughter still pained me, and well...