Taboo

When I woke on the wet stone and saw her slipping off her swimsuit, I knew that blow to the head had taken me somewhere I’d never come back from the same.

When I came back from the bathroom, my two brothers had her cornered in the center of the living room, and there was no surprise in her eyes: there was a smile that had been waiting months for that moment.

I found him on my bed with one of my panties in his hand and a wad of bills on the spread. What came next wasn’t about the money.

My cousin had gone to the beach with her friends. When I rang the bell, my aunt opened the door wearing her apron and a smile I’d never seen before.

When the screen came on, my sister-in-law was welcoming her two relatives in the living room with a smile I’d never seen at Sunday lunches.

I wanted him from my first lovers and never dared to tell him. That afternoon, in front of his camera, I discovered my brother had been holding the same thing back for years.

He showed up at the door unannounced, looking for a fight and carrying a bottle under his arm. By three in the morning, nothing I knew about him was true anymore.

When the car wash brushes erased the world outside, my sister leaned over the seat, moved my hair from my forehead, and whispered something I could no longer ignore.

I’d been in a coma for a month when a warm hand slipped under the sheet in the dead of night. Only when I opened my eyes did I learn who had decided to wake me.

At two in the morning I went downstairs barefoot for a glass of water and heard them arguing in low voices about me, with that married-couple tone.

I came home early with the image of my freshly showered sister-in-law Renata stuck in my head. An hour later, she knocked on my door wrapped in a robe.

I thought I was home alone. The key in the lock came too late, and when I lifted my head from the sofa, she’d already seen me.

I went into my room and found her naked in a corner, masturbating while she watched me. She said nothing. Neither did I. I just sat down in front of her.

Nine months of failed independence sent her back to her father’s house, to Carmen’s rules and Marcos’s gaze, which from day one made her feel things she shouldn’t.

Valeria sat between Matías and me without asking permission. When she turned her face toward me with that smile, I understood we’d been avoiding the inevitable for years.

Her cold hands moved slowly over a place no hand should have gone. I didn’t make a sound. But something broke that afternoon, and nothing was ever quite the same.

She had been sad for days since her boyfriend left her. I sat beside her on the sofa with no clear intention. But she rested her head on my shoulder and everything changed.

I put the coffee on the table, we started talking, and the last thing I remember is sleep overtaking me. When I woke up, I was tied hand and foot.

The doctor was clear: seven days of treatment. My mother, a nurse by profession, said she’d take care of it herself. I had no idea what that meant.

When my sister whispered in my ear what she really wanted, I knew neither of us could keep pretending it didn’t exist.