My Mother-in-Law's Sweet Milk novel · Chapter 1 of 12
Chapter 1: Urgent Consultation
It was six-ten on a Monday evening and I already had my hand on the light switch.
The last patient of the day had left twenty minutes ago.
My assistant had left ten minutes ago.
That left me with an empty doctor's office, the smell of alcohol, and a window looking out at the jacaranda trees in the Cimatario neighborhood.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Two sharp, hurried knocks.
"Come in."
A woman walked in.
She was in her mid-forties, maybe forty-seven.
She wore a bottle-green dress fitted at the waist and a black leather jacket.
Her hair was dark brown, long, with loose curls falling over her shoulders, and her eyes were the color of honey.
She was tall, with wide hips and full breasts.
And she had a damp stain on her blouse.
Two stains, to be exact, right where her nipples pressed against the fabric.
She noticed I'd seen them and covered herself with her jacket, blushing to the tips of her ears.
"Doctor," she said. "Forgive the hour."
"Come in, have a seat."
She closed the door behind her and locked it.
I didn't notice at the time.
"What's your name?"
"Delfina Rojas."
"What brings you in, Mrs. Rojas?"
She took a breath.
"I have milk, doctor."
I froze, pen hovering in midair.
"Excuse me?"
"I have milk in my breasts. For two months now. I'm not pregnant, I've never been, and I'm not going to be."
"I'm forty-seven, I'm a widow, and my tits leak like a faucet that won't shut off."
She said it all with such calm dignity that I almost laughed.
"And they hurt," she added, quieter. "A lot. They hurt so much that sometimes I can't sleep."
"Have you seen another doctor?"
"Two. One told me it was stress. The other said it was my age."
"That's not age."
"That's what I thought."
I stood up and gestured to the exam table.
"Lie down, please, and I'll examine you."
She took off her jacket and laid it over the back of the chair.
She climbed onto the exam table in her heeled shoes, sitting first and then reclining, until she was lying back against the white paper.
When I went to the sink to put on my gloves, I heard her moving behind me.
The rustle of fabric.
I turned around.
She had unbuttoned her blouse all the way to her waist.
Her black lace bra was soaked, and milk was running from her in two thin clear streams down her skin toward her ribs.
"Excuse me," I said, and I noticed my voice came out rougher than usual. "I'm going to... I'm going to examine you."
"Do it."
I approached.
I placed my gloved hands on her right breast, with just the right pressure, palpating.
It was hard, hot, swollen.
When I pressed the areola, a thin stream shot out and landed on my glove.
Delfina let out a stifled moan and arched her back.
"Sorry," she said. "It's not you. It's that it hurts and relieves me at the same time."
"I know."
"Do it again."
I did.
Another stream, longer, and her breathing quickened.
I told her it was galactorrhea, probably hormonal in origin, that she'd need a prolactin test.
I said it in my doctor's voice.
But my hands were on her breast, and she was breathing harder and harder, and her gaze was no longer that of a patient.
"Doctor," she whispered.
"Tell me."
"Don't you have a breast pump?"
I had one in the sample drawer, for nursing patients.
I took it out.
I placed it over her left breast and worked the pump slowly.
The milk began to fall into the plastic jar, in white, warm streams, with a sweet smell, almost like vanilla.
Delfina bit her lip and closed her eyes.
"More," she murmured. "A little harder."
"It could hurt you."
"The other thing hurts me more."
When the first breast was empty, I moved to the second.
My hands were steady, trained, and yet they were trembling.
Delfina was breathing with her mouth open.
And then, suddenly, she hiked up her skirt.
With both hands, without hesitating, all the way to her waist.
Underneath she wore black lace panties, and between her thighs there was a dark patch of dampness.
"Doctor," she said, in a voice that broke something inside me. "It's been four years since anyone examined me completely."
"Mrs. Rojas..."
"Help me, please." She spread her legs on the exam table. "Quickly. I beg you."
I stood frozen, the breast pump in my hand and a thread of milk dripping onto my wrist.
She looked me straight in the eyes.
"Isaac," she said.
I felt my blood run cold.
No one in this city called me by my first name in the office.
Everyone said "doctor."
"How do you know my name?"
Delfina smiled, slowly, with a calm that didn't match her body trembling on the white paper.
"Because I'm Regina's mother," she said.
The world stopped.
Regina Arizmendi, my girlfriend for three years.
The woman who was supposed to marry me three weeks ago.
Two days before the wedding she disappeared, with a four-line message and a flight to Barcelona.
"Your mother-in-law," the woman on the exam table added, with a gleam in her eyes that stole my breath. "If she hadn't left."
She reached out, grabbed my tie, and pulled me toward her.
"I did come, Isaac."
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