PART 2
Miguel was still wearing his apron from the little store when he entered the hospital. In a bag, she carried coins, a roll of tickets, and a pink hair tie that Sofía had lost that morning. She didn’t remember putting it away. She only remembered the policeman’s words: “Your daughter said his name.”
Not just his name.
She said that maybe he had hurt her.
Teresa saw him from her wheelchair and tried to stand, but the pain in her back doubled her over.
“What happened to my daughter, Miguel?”
He didn’t know what to say.
A doctor came out of the emergency room.
“Sofía Morales’s parents?”
They both approached.
“Your daughter is in serious condition. Her abdomen is very swollen, she’s dehydrated, and there are signs of an internal infection. We’re running urgent tests.”
“Is she awake?” Miguel asked.
“On and off. She asks if you’re in trouble.”
That broke him.
Sofía believed he might have hurt her, but she still wanted to protect him.
The policeman opened a notebook.
“We need to know what she ate.”
“Stew tacos. Don Arturo brought them around eight. We all ate them.”
“Who made them?”
“I don’t know. He said his sister made too much.”
Teresa looked up.
“Arturo again? I told you I didn’t like him coming into the house so much.”
Miguel closed his eyes. Not because she was wrong. But because she was right, too late.
The doctor asked how long Sofía had been in pain.
“Four days… maybe five,” Miguel confessed. “I thought it was indigestion. I gave her tea. I told her I’d take her to the doctor tomorrow.”
The policeman stopped writing for a moment.
Tomorrow.
That word fell like a sentence.
Tomorrow because the rent was due. Tomorrow because Teresa needed medicine. Tomorrow because if Miguel was missing again
