Agreement

Filomena stares at me, waiting for an answer that I didn't even have myself. I look at her and tell her about what really happened, not omitting the night with X and then with Carlos. I wasn't trying to justify or ask for forgiveness; I needed to let it all out. I needed to tell her because I knew she would help me find a way to navigate through all of this. She approached and sat on the bed, deep in thought. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and said,



"Do you realize that calling this man will only make everything worse than it already is? If he comes here to claim your child... your life, Carlos' life, and this child's life will become an endless hell. Is that what you want?"



"No, of course not," I reply. "I just need to know if he has any illnesses... and this is the only way I could think of."



"Dalia, Dalia," Filomena says, shaking her head in disagreement. "Well, I don't need to tell you that I warned you. Now, we need to find a way to help your child... without Carlos and X knowing, unless that's what you want: for both of them to discover the truth?"



"No," I promptly answer.



"Great. I have a friend who works at this hospital as a nurse. I'll ask her to collect your blood, Carlos' blood, and the baby's blood for a DNA test."



"But, Filomena, how will she be able to do that without raising suspicions?"



"Friend, we're in a hospital. This kind of procedure, collecting blood from parents, is as normal as drinking water. Don't worry about anything, just focus on your baby. How long will you be here?"



"I'm leaving today, but my son will stay here."



"Great, I believe she can collect the samples by tomorrow. I'll need a few days for the results, and then, once we find out the truth, we'll figure out a way to help your child."



"Thank you, Filomena," I express, emotionally. For some reason, I feel like I'm finally seeing a glimmer of hope in the midst of all this.



"Don't thank me," Filomena says. "In exchange for this favor, I want you to promise me something."



"Tell me," I respond, knowing what it might be.



"That you will never speak to X again. No matter the outcome, remove that man from your life before he brings more misery. That's my condition: Forget that X ever existed. Can you do that?"



I expected this request, but I still wasn't ready to hear it. Even though I hadn't spoken to him in months, I always had the option to reach out to him whenever I wanted... Now, accepting this condition... there was no possibility. I look at my friend, trying to understand her aversion to X... perhaps she had also gone through all of this and suffered greatly. But what happened to her may not happen to me. However, I have to think about my son; it would be impossible to help him without Filomena.



"So, do we have an agreement?" Filo asks, seriously.



"Agreement about what?" Carlos enters the room, looking confused.



"Filomena offered to come to the hospital as well to stay with our son," I quickly make up, without taking my eyes off her. "That way, I won't be overwhelmed until you can take your vacation."



"That's great," Carlos says, approaching. He kisses the top of my head and continues, "Thank you, Filo, for this support."



"No problem, I know how difficult all of this must be for you... and we always have to put our children first," Filo responds, ending with an indirect comment.



"Definitely," Carlos agrees. He moves my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "I've filled out the paperwork, and we're cleared to go. Ready to leave?"



"Yes," I reply weakly. I get up from the bed and look at Filo. "Thank you... for everything."



"That's what friends are for. So, do we have an agreement?" she asks once again.



"Yes, we do," I reply, serious.



I feel my chest tightening to the point where I have to hold onto Carlos as we walk out of the hospital. As soon as I get into the car, I break down. Leaving that place without my son is unbearable for me. I look at the hospital entrance one last time and make a promise: No matter what I have to do, I'll do it for my son.

***

A week later...



In the days that followed, my life consisted of leaving my mother's house and going to the hospital to be with Juan. Carlos managed to take time off and accompanied me every day. The ritual was the same: pumping milk, hearing the doctors say that Juan had been resuscitated again because he stopped breathing, and spending the night with my son. I spent most of the time with my hand on the incubator, touching his chest and pleading for whatever it was to stop. I couldn't sleep because I felt that if I did, he would be taken away from me, and I couldn't allow that. Carlos slept for both of us in one of the chairs while I kept watch over our peaceful Juan's sleep.



"We ran some more tests on your child," the pediatrician starts, already sounding discouraged. I hold Carlos' hand, praying for different news, but the doctor's expression dashes any hope. "And we haven't found anything that indicates the cause of your child's nodules or the respiratory arrests."



"Are you saying... there's nothing you can do?" I ask, holding back my tears.



"I'm saying that we're racing against time to save Juan. We don't know when his next respiratory arrest will be, how long he'll be able to endure."



"What do you propose?" Carlos asks, serious. His face is pale, his eyes lifeless since all of this started. He was just like me, surviving.



"We will continue to conduct more tests until we find the cause. Until then, all we can do is pray that your child maintains the strength he has shown since day one," the doctor concludes.



And so, more and more tests were performed on Juan. My son was pricked in every possible way, and hearing him cry broke my heart to the point where I wanted to escape with him. Then, one day, as I finished pumping milk for Juan, a nurse entered the room, staring at me in surprise. I had never seen her there before, but something told me that she knew me.



"I've come to collect your blood samples," she said, without us even asking.



Carlos didn't question the young woman and rolled up his sleeve, allowing her to quickly perform the procedure. I watched her closely, remembering the conversation I had with Filomena. My friend was fulfilling her part. The young nurse came to me and carried out the procedure, looking at me in a way that made me feel judged as if she knew the truth. Then, she finished, stored the samples, and headed towards the door.



"How long until we get the results?" I asked loudly. I needed something concrete, I needed certainty amid the world where I lived day by day.



"Within fifteen days," she replied without turning around. As Carlos approached and began rubbing my arms, my mind was buzzing, knowing that in fifteen days, I would find out who the father of my child is.