"Put the knife down, Carlos."
Carlos Solano, Sr. put the phone back in his pocket and turned to face his son. He did not care that he was entertaining his guests at a dinner party. His son was a disappointment.
"I recognize that tone," Carlito said to himself as he dropped his head.
"I've looked away too many times… your friends, parties and activities. Now you've jeopardized everything I've built."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Carlito stuttered. He shot his eyes up, hoping to catch a glance from Lucia, but she had turned her head away. She knew their father's tone-of-voice all too well.
"Put the knife down, Carlos," he repeated, taking a step closer to his son.
Carlito braced himself and hurriedly tried to think of what he needed to say to change his father's mind.
He glanced over at Lucia again and her eyes caught his, reminding him of the many nights when they hid together in fear.
Memories flooded him. He was no longer standing at the head of the table as a successful businessman. He was in their childhood bedroom begging for a reprieve.
"Papa, can you please…" he found himself saying like a little boy.
"AHORA!"
Carlito dropped the knife and took a step back to face his father.
Without any other warning, his father's fist forced him to the ground. He tasted blood and tried to block his ribs with his arm. There was no use in fighting back.
He wished for Lucia to save him like she had done so many times when he had been too young.
Carlito brought his hand to his face, but recoiled back when his father's foot ripped into his stomach.
"Papa, please don't be mad," he said pleading in a small voice. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out what made his father upset this time. Was his room too messy? Did he fight back with his sister? Did he slam the door too loudly?
"You think you can lie to me!? You think you can keep secrets from me!?" his father screamed down at him.
He saw the man raise his foot once more, and within seconds, Carlito's world went dark.
He was sitting in the corner of their bedroom wearing his lucha libre pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. He brought his shaking hands up to his ears, afraid of what he might hear on the other side of the wall.
His anxiety was through the roof, worrying about what was going to happen to Lucia, but he was also relieved that it was Lucia who was tonight's target. Despite his guilt, it gave him the chance to hide.
He winced when he heard the two slaps, but there was no sound of crying. Lucia was tough. He wished he were tough like her.
"You are ten now!" Carlito listened to his father scream at his sister. "Do 10 year-olds cry?!"
There was a loud bang followed by her piercing scream. Carlito wrapped his arms around his legs and laid his head on his knees.
"No, papa," he heard her say. Even though she was on the other side of the wall, Carlito could still hear the crack in her voice.
There was another slap. "Where is your little brother?!"
"No, papa! Leave him!" she cried.
Carlito knew that the night would only be worse if he didn't show himself. Still trembling, he managed to stand up.
His shaking hand reached for the door, but it swung open before he made contact with it.
Carlito's eyes became watery when he saw the hand clutched firmly behind his sister's neck, and his breath stopped when he made eye contact with his father.
Lucia was pushed down to the floor, but quickly sat up. She reached out and rested her hand on Carlito's ankle, trying to get him to back up.
"Were you crying, Carlos?"
Carlito immediately stared down at the floor and struggled to keep his hands from wiping at his eyes.
His father took a step forward and slapped the side of his face. "Answer me," he whispered harshly.
"No, papa," the boy said.
"You are a liar." He struck him again in the same red spot on his cheek. "No son of mine will cry when someone strikes him."
"Yes, papa."
Their father's attention shifted. "Did you pray tonight, Lucia?" he asked her. She shook her head. He took a breath and narrowed his eyes. "Go get the corn."
That was all he had to say. He knew how to manipulate his children's emotions. They needed to know who was in control. They needed to be trained to lead a business, an empire.
The pain of losing his wife had been too much and he was not able to see his children when he was in prison. He needed to make up for all of the years he had lost.
Carlito held his breath and looked down at his sister.
She reluctantly stood up, but then ran quickly out of the room.
A part of Carlito wanted her to run all the way to California, to get away from here, but he knew that she would come back for him.
Carlito watched his father calmly walk over to his bed and sit down. "Come here."
With much hesitation, he took a few steps. "Yes, papa," he found himself saying.
Carlito was lifted up onto his father's lap. "What will you pray for?" he asked his son.
The boy winced when he felt his father's hand caress the top of his arm, but a small smile crept onto Carlito's face. He knew the right answer to this question.
"To not be a disappointment," Carlito said robotically, "to be a good man."
"You must learn to control your emotions."
"Yes, papa." Carlito's eyes kept glancing at the door. He could hear his sister's footsteps.
Lucia walked back into the room, but stopped suddenly when she saw Carlito on their father's lap.
"Here," he said to her, holding his hand out. She walked slowly over to them and kept the small bag of corn kernels down by her side. She shot her brother an apologetic look before carefully placing the kernels in their father's hand.
He put Carlito down and walked past them to stand in between their beds. He dramatically dumped the bag of corn onto the floor.
The noise of the bouncing kernels on the cold tile sent shivers through both Lucia and Carlito.
She took Carlito's hand in hers, but he yanked his arm back. "Men do not hold hands with girls when they are afraid," he whispered to his sister with a dark tone.
"Come here." They looked over to their father, who was pointing to the space between the beds.
Carlito walked ahead of her. The two of them stood back to back, each of them facing their own bed.
"Kneel." They were silent as they knelt on the kernels, doing their best to hide the pain. With their elbows on the mattress in front of them and their hands clasped, they bowed their heads and waited for their dismissal. Carlito started counting silently and made it all the way to thirty-five before he heard the magic phrase.
"In bed." They both jumped up. They knew better than to rub the kernels from their knees.
They climbed into their beds and sat up facing forward, staring across the dark room.
Carlito was not surprised when his father spread his arms, reaching a hand out to each of them.
"Goodnight," he said to them. Lucia and Carlito both leaned in slightly to kiss one of his hands.
He slowly walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, leaving his children in darkness.
Carlito kicked his feet over the side of his bed and brushed off the kernels that were still crushed into his knees.
"At least you were wearing pants, Carlito," Lucia whispered over to him. She had been in a nightgown and was now rubbing her hands over the dozens of tiny craters in her kneecaps.
He could hear her start to cry. "No, Lucia," he heard himself whimper.
"I'm sorry."
"He was going to do it anyway. Stop crying."
After a few moments, he realized that she wasn't going to stop. He slid his favorite blanket out from under his pillow where he kept it hidden from his father and carefully climbed down off the bed.
He tiptoed over to her through the corn the on the floor and pulled himself up. He laid down up against her and put the blanket over both of them. She leaned her head in to him. "We will run away," she said wiping her eyes.
"Away…" he mumbled, letting his emotional exhaustion take over. He closed his eyes and welcomed sleep.
"Carlito?" It was Lucia. "You've been out for almost an hour. I told papa to call the doctor."
"No," he said to her opening his eyes. He was lying on the four-poster bed in his room. The memories of his beating at dinner came rushing back to him. "How did I–?"
"Johnny was generous enough to help me carry you up here. I got most of the blood off your face."
She sat on the edge of the bed. "What did you do to make him beat you, Carlos?!"
He looked away from her.
"We have different opinions about the place of women," he found himself saying with a soft voice.
She stood up and looked at him with anger and disgust in her eyes. She turned and walked back downstairs to join Johnny and the rest of their guests.
Carlito tried to sit up, but the pain in his ribs forced him to be still. He put his hand up by his head and was surprised to feel the blanket from so many years ago. He smiled, realizing that Lucia had placed it next to him (and hoped that she hadn't shown it to Johnny). Had she kept it all these years?
He turned his head to the table beside the bed and was pleased to see that she had left him a glass of water. He felt even more satisfied when his eyes spotted the bowl of corn kernels sitting in anticipation. "Lucia," he said to himself shaking his head, "you are such a bitch."