“Hello.
” “Dad.
” “Santiago, what happened? Why are you calling me from another number?
” “Dad, Alma won’t wake up.
” “What? Where are you? Where’s your mom?
” “She’s not here. Not since Friday. I’m hungry. There’s nothing left to eat.
” “What do you mean she’s not here? Have you been alone?”
“Yes. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Tomás was silent for a second, then jumped up, threw his chair aside, grabbed his keys from the desk, and ran out without saying a word to anyone. He took the elevator down while calling Leticia. Her phone was off. Again. Three more times. Nothing.
He got in the car, started it, and dialed again. Voicemail.
—Damn it!
Tomás drove straight to Leticia’s house. It took him less than half an hour. He parked roughly, jumped out, and banged on the door with all his might.
“Santiago, it’s your dad! Open up!”
Nothing. He pushed the door. It wasn’t locked. He went in. The house was completely silent. In the living room, he found Santiago sitting on the floor hugging a pillow. His face was dirty, his eyes were swollen, and his stomach was pressed against his spine.
“Dad, I thought you weren’t coming.
” “Where’s Alma?”
Santiago pointed to the armchair. Alma was lying there, motionless, her face pale and her lips dry. Tomás approached and touched her. She was burning with fever, unresponsive. He picked her up quickly.
“Let’s go fast. Don’t say anything, just come.
” “Is she asleep, Dad?
” “No. But she’s going to be alright. Let’s go now!”
Tomás got out with Alma in his arms, and Santiago followed behind him. They got in the car, he turned on the hazard lights, and floored the accelerator. While driving, he called Leticia again. Voicemail.
Santiago, from the back seat, asked,
“Is my mom angry?”
Tomás gripped the steering wheel.
“No, son. Your mom isn’t well. But I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
“How is the little girl?” a nurse asked as soon as Tomás rushed into the emergency room with Alma in his arms.
“How old is she?” she asked, quickly approaching with a stretcher.
“Three years old. She hasn’t eaten properly for at least two days. She has a fever. She was unconscious when I arrived.
” “We’re going to stabilize her. Please stay here.”
A doctor picked Alma up and laid her on the stretcher. Santiago clung to his father’s leg, not saying a word. Tomás knelt down and hugged him.
“They’re going to take care of her. She’s going to be okay.
” “She’s not going to die, is she?”
“No, son. I promise you.”
While Alma was being taken to the pediatric emergency room, Tomás went to reception. He gave his children’s names, explained what little he knew, and asked to speak with social work.
In less than half an hour, two people were already asking her why the children were alone.
“They were supposed to be with their mother. She told me they were going somewhere with no cell service all weekend, and that I shouldn’t bother her. My son called me today. He said the little girl wouldn’t wake up and that they hadn’t eaten in days. That’s all I know.
” “And where is their mother right now?
” “I have no idea. Her cell phone has been off since Friday.”
One of the social workers started taking notes.
“Do you have joint custody?
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