My Mother-in-Law's Sweet Milk novel · Chapter 3 of 12

Chapter 3: The Analysis

The lab results came in Wednesday at eleven in the morning.

Prolactin: 168 nanograms per milliliter.

Normal for a woman her age is under 25.

I ordered the MRI for that same afternoon.

She had it done at a clinic on Avenida Constituyentes, wearing a paper cap and with the nerves of a schoolgirl.

At seven she came back to my office with the big envelope under her arm.

This time she walked in with her blouse buttoned all the way up, her hair pulled back, and her lips painted.

She closed the door, locked it, and stood three meters away from me.

"Tell me the truth, doctor."

"Sit down."

"I don't want to sit."

"Delfina."

"Say it fast, like ripping off a band-aid."

I opened the envelope and hung the film against the light of the viewbox.

I pointed to a small, round spot at the base of her skull.

"It's a pituitary microadenoma. Six millimeters. Benign."

She brought a hand to her mouth.

"A tumor?"

"Yes, but the good kind. It makes your body produce too much prolactin, and that's why there's milk."

"It's treated with a pill twice a week. In three months the milk will go away and the tumor will shrink."

"And that's it?"

"And that's it."

Delfina let out the air so hard her shoulders slumped.

She covered her face with both hands.

I stood up and hugged her.

She cried against my chest silently, with her whole body.

"I thought I was dying," she said finally. "I thought it was the same thing that happened to Cirilo."

"No."

"Two months without sleeping, scared."

"It's over now."

"Thank you."

I kissed her hair.

I couldn't help it.

She lifted her face, eyes swollen and nose red, and looked at me.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Tell me."

"Why does a young, handsome doctor like you see an old woman who shows up crying at six in the evening?"

"You're not old, and you came to my office, not the other way around."

"I told you about Regina."

"Yes."

"Did you talk to her yet?"

"No. And I'm not going to."

"Me neither."

She pulled away from me, walked to the window, and stood looking at the jacaranda trees.

"Regina isn't bad," she said. "She's selfish. She's always been that way."

"Cirilo spoiled her because she came when he wasn't expecting any more children, and I allowed it because I was tired."

"You don't have to explain."

"Yes, I do. I don't want you to think I came to get revenge on her with you."

I came up behind her.

"Why did you come?"

"So you would touch me."

She said it without shame, without any pretense.

"And so you'd make me feel like I can still ask for things."

I placed my hands on her hips.

She leaned back against my chest.

"Ask me for whatever you want," I said in her ear.

"I want to eat something."

I laughed.

"Something?"

"Food. I've been living on coffee and anxiety for two days."

"I'll take you to dinner."

"I'd rather cook. You have a kitchen, right?"

"I have a stove I've never used."

"Perfect."

We closed the office.

In the parking elevator, as we were going down to the basement, she pulled my tie and kissed me against the mirror.

She devoured my mouth eagerly, one hand on the back of my neck and the other squeezing my ass.

When the doors opened, we were still locked together.

A security guard cleared his throat, and we looked away like teenagers.

My apartment in Juriquilla was a white box with a view of the lake.

Delfina walked through it with her hands on her hips and burst out laughing.

"A thirty-two-year-old man living among boxes."

"I was about to move."

"With her?"

"With her."

"Well, good thing you didn't."

She opened the refrigerator.

There was milk, eggs, a jar of jam, and a dried-up lemon.

"My God."

"I have delivery."

"We're going to fix that."

She was pulling a pot out of the cabinet when her cell phone vibrated on the counter.

I saw the screen before she did.

A profile picture: a thin blonde in dark glasses, smiling in front of the Sagrada Familia.

The name: Regina.

Delfina stared at the phone.

She didn't pick it up.

It rang four times, five, six.

Then it stopped and a message appeared.

"Mom, I'm coming back Friday. I need you to sign some papers for the factory. It's urgent. P. will explain."

Delfina read it with tight lips.

"Who's P.?" I asked.

"Her boss."

She set the phone face down.

She breathed.

"Not today, Regina," she murmured. "Not today."

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