“Thank God the children told us.”
“I know. Santiago called me ‘Mom’ for the last time on Wednesday… when he was three. From then on, I felt like I was doing everything wrong.
” “You still have time, but you’re going to have to earn it.”
Leticia nodded without making excuses.
“Can I see them?
” “No. They’re very sensitive right now. Santiago still wakes up in the middle of the night thinking you’re not coming back. Alma won’t leave his side, not even to go to the bathroom. They’re in therapy.
” “I’m going to therapy too.”
Tomás stared at her for a few seconds.
“I’m not going to make it easy for you, Leticia. But if you really put in the effort and change… if you really commit, we’ll talk it over with the judge. Not for your sake, but for theirs.”
Leticia nodded and, for the first time in weeks, a weak smile appeared on her face.
“Thank you.”
Tomás turned to leave, but stopped before he could go.
“Don’t thank me yet. Do things properly.”
When he returned home, Santiago was waiting for him, sitting in the dining room with a sheet of paper and crayons.
“Did you go see my mom?
” “Yes. She’s doing better. She’s starting to feel better. She’s going to therapy, just like you.”
Santiago thought for a moment.
“Is she coming back?
” “Well, that will depend on what the judge says, the psychologists, and her.”
“I do want her to come back. But… different.”
Tomás bent down.
“That’s what we all want, son. For her to get well. For her to be the mother you all deserve.”
Santiago showed him his drawing. It was a house with four little monkeys: Him, Alma, Tomás, and Leticia. All of them had big smiles.
“Do you think we can ever be like that?”
Tomás looked him in the eyes.
“If we all try hard and do our part, yes. But little by little, without rushing.”
Santiago hugged his dad. Alma ran into the dining room with her doll, climbed onto a chair, and shouted,
“I’m hungry!”
Tomás burst out laughing for the first time in days.
“Great! Let’s make something to eat together, the three of us.”
That afternoon they made rice with egg. It wasn’t a restaurant dish, but the three of them ate it sitting at the table, like a family who, despite the hardships, kept trying.
Two weeks later, Tomás received a notice from the family court. They had scheduled a hearing to review the status of the temporary custody case. Tomás had a feeling something was up. Since Leticia started therapy, the legal paperwork had moved much faster than he had imagined.
That morning she got up early, made them breakfast, took Santiago to school, and left Alma with a trusted neighbor. From there, she rushed off to the courthouse with a folder under her arm. Inside were all the medical and psychological reports, and the social worker’s letter of support. Leticia was already there. She was dressed formally, but simply. They hadn’t seen each other since that time at the hospital. When she saw him arrive, she looked up cautiously. They didn’t speak.
The judge arrived on time.
“This hearing is to review the current situation with the children, Santiago Gutiérrez Vargas and Alma Gutiérrez Vargas, who remain in their father’s temporary custody. Their mother, Leticia Vargas, filed a motion requesting the reinstatement of shared custody, as she has begun her psychological treatment and complied with the requirements previously set forth here in court.”
Tomás stared straight ahead. He hadn’t planned to say a word. Leticia’s lawyer broke the ice.
“Your Honor, my client has followed the medical team’s instructions to the letter. She’s been stable, she’s finished the first part of her treatment, and she has the approval of the Emotional Support Center for Mothers. She already has a place to live, a safe and separate place, and she’s completely cut ties with her ex-partner. She’s not asking for full custody, but she is asking for the opportunity to gradually resume seeing her children, under supervision.”
The judge nodded.
“Does the father have anything to say?”
Tomás stood up.
“I have no problem with the children seeing their mother. All I ask is that they take her with them gently, that someone is supervising everything, and that they don’t try to jump the fence. My children are still scared, they still wake up crying… but I know they need their mother. And if she’s truly trying hard, I’m not going to stand in their way of getting her back.”
The judge glanced at the papers for a couple of minutes.
“Very well. Seeing the reports and that both of you are showing good cooperation, the court approves a phased visitation schedule. The first visits will be at the family center with a therapist supervising. We’ll check in with you weekly. In three months, we’ll meet again to see if we can establish a new shared custody arrangement, of course, if everything goes well.”
Leticia closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were releasing all the air she’d been holding in. Tomás signed the papers without saying a word. When they left the room, Leticia caught up with him in the hallway.
“Thanks for not making a scene.
” “I didn’t come here to fight. I came for them.
” “I’m not going to screw this up this time.”
Tomás nodded.
“Well, I hope not.”
A few days later, Santiago and Alma arrived at the family center holding hands. Leticia was already waiting for them, seated, with a small photo album in her hands.
“Hello, my precious children.”
Alma hid behind her brother. Santiago stared at her, then let go of his sister’s hand and approached her.
“Are you going to behave now?”
Leticia smiled at him with a very sad look.
“Yes, my love. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m really trying.”
Alma walked slowly toward her and sat on her lap, quietly. The therapist just silently took notes. Tomás was watching them from the next room, through one of those one-way mirrors used in Gesell observation rooms. He didn’t say anything, he just watched. And, for the first time in a long while, he felt that maybe, just maybe, it was possible.
The weeks flew by. Every Saturday the children went to the family center to see their mother. The first few visits were quite dry, quite tense. Alma wouldn’t leave Santiago’s side, not even to go to the bathroom, and Leticia didn’t force them to do anything; she was just there, patiently telling them stories, painting, and singing.
Little by little, things began to change. Alma was starting to go along with it. Santiago was more relaxed, more at ease. And Leticia, for the first time in years, seemed stable. She arrived on time, she looked clean, in her right mind; she was “present.” Tomás never missed a session, always watching from the back room. He didn’t exchange a word with Leticia, but he memorized every gesture, every step they took, everything they said.
One day, after the visit had ended, the therapist approached him.
“Mr. Gutiérrez, the children are responding very well. What do you think about starting the stage of them spending time together at home, but with someone supervising?”
Tomás didn’t answer right away.
“Do you think they’re ready?”
“According to the reports we have, yes. And the children are already asking for it.”
Tomás turned to look at his children through the glass. Santiago was laughing hysterically, showing Leticia a drawing. Alma had an open book on her lap, waiting for her mother to read to her.
“So, how would it work?”
“It would be one afternoon a week at their mother’s house. At first, someone will come to check on them and keep them company. If everything goes well, we’ll gradually increase the number of days.”
Tomás nodded slowly.
“Okay, then. Let’s give it a try.”
The first time they met at Leticia’s house was in mid-June. It was a modest little house, small but spotless. She had bought them new toys and storybooks and put a rug on the floor of the children’s room. Tomás left them at the door. Leticia greeted him politely. Santiago walked right in. Alma stood there for a moment. Then she took her mother’s hand and went inside.
“I’ll come for them in two hours,” Tomás said, very seriously.
“Thank you for your trust,” Leticia replied.
And that was that.
That afternoon, Leticia made them chicken and rice, played cards with Santiago, braided Alma’s hair, and they looked through a photo album of their childhood. Neither of them asked about “Uncle” Ricardo. No one brought up the subject of the car accident.
Right on time, Tomás came back for them. The children came out beaming, each holding a drawing.
“How did it go, shorty?”
“My mom let me put glitter on the doll! And I beat her at memory,” Santiago boasted.
Tomás turned to look at Leticia. She didn’t say anything, just nodded.
Within a month, they were seeing each other twice a week. Alma was no longer timidly following her brother around, and Santiago was already asking to stay overnight at his mother’s house. Tomás discussed it with the therapist, who gave him the go-ahead.
That night the house felt immense. It was the first time she’d slept without the kids since that phone call that had stopped her heart. She walked around the living room, saw the drawings they’d taped to the wall, the little cup of crayons, the tiny shoes piled up by the door. She felt a strange emptiness, but also a peace she’d almost forgotten. Maybe that’s what healing was all about: letting things fall into place on their own.
Before falling asleep, his cell phone rang. It was a picture of Santiago and Alma in their pajamas, sitting on the bed. They had huge smiles on their faces. Leticia sent him a message: “They’re exhausted now. Everything’s fine. Thanks for giving us this chance .” Tomás turned off his phone. He lay down and started thinking that, in the end, it wasn’t about who won or who lost; it was about everyone learning to be better together.
Time marched on, and the routine began to take shape again. Santiago and Alma went to school in the morning. They took turns spending the afternoons at Tomás’s and Leticia’s houses, and on weekends the three of them would sometimes get together to go to the park or stroll around a plaza. Nothing forced, everything little by little.
One Sunday afternoon, while Tomás was helping Santiago with his homework, Alma peeked into the living room with a drawing.
“Daddy, will you help me write something on this?”
Tomás sat down with her.
“What should we write?
” “I want to write a little letter to my mom.”
“Okay, then. You tell me what to write.”
Alma thought for a moment.
“Write: ‘My beautiful Mommy. I really like it when you read me my stories. Thank you for not leaving anymore. I love you very much.’”
“Okay, fine. That’s exactly what I’ll write,” Tomás replied, writing on the paper in his neat handwriting.
Santiago, without taking his eyes off his notebook, murmured,
“What if she leaves again?”
Tomás dropped his pen on the table.
“We can’t control what will happen tomorrow, son. But today she’s here and you guys are doing great. That’s what we’ll take away from this.”
Santiago didn’t answer, but his expression changed. He no longer looked so rushed; he looked more relaxed.
The following Monday, Leticia picked them up from school. She brought them a small bag of sweet bread and took them home for a snack. She put on some relaxing music. They built castles with blocks, and then she made them hot chocolate.
“Can I stay over tonight?” Santiago blurted out suddenly.
Leticia’s eyes widened.
“Do you really want to?
” “Yes! If my dad lets me.
” “I’ll call him,” Leticia said, holding back tears of joy.
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