Chapter 6 - Retrieving the Past
At nine o'clock the following morning, two marked police cruisers pulled up outside the apartment building in Portales.
Officer Delgado and another uniformed officer stepped out, followed by Julian, Mateo, and a rented moving van Julian had managed to secure with money Mateo lent him.
Neighbors gathered on the street, whispering frantically as the police officers marched up the stairs to the third floor.
When Officer Delgado knocked heavily on apartment 3C's door, there was a long pause. Then, the peephole opened, and Doña Carmen’s pale, panicked face appeared through the small glass lens.
"Open the door, ma'am! It's the Mexico City Police Department!" Delgado commanded.
The heavy door opened slowly. Doña Carmen stood there, dressed in a black sweater, her hair unwashed, holding a small silver cross against her chest. When she saw Julian standing behind two armed police officers, her eyes widened in utter disbelief and rage.
"Julian..." she gasped, her voice trembling. "You... you brought the police to your mother's house?"
"This isn't your house, ma'am," Officer Delgado stated coldly, pulling an official document from his belt and holding it in front of her face. "I am serving you with a court-ordered emergency protection mandate. You are legally required to allow Mr. Julian González and his representatives forty-five minutes to retrieve all personal property from this residence."
"This is ridiculous!" Doña Carmen shrieked, waving her hands in the air. "He owes me rent! They are stealing from me!"
"If you obstruct this process," Delgado warned, touching his hand to his handcuffs, "I will arrest you immediately for contempt of court and interference with a police operation. Stand aside."
Doña Carmen backed up into the hallway, her face twisted in helpless fury as Mateo and Julian pushed past her, carrying large cardboard boxes.
For thirty minutes, Julian worked quickly, packing every piece of clothing, every kitchen utensil he and Mariana had bought together, their papers, their bedsheets, and the baby gear. He worked with a cold, mechanical focus, completely ignoring Doña Carmen, who stood in the corner of the living room, weeping loudly and praying out loud to the Virgin of Guadalupe, attempting to play the victim for the officers.
Finally, Julian reached the nursery room. In the center stood the white wooden crib he had spent three weekends assembling, painting, and sanding by hand for his unborn child.
Mateo walked in, holding a toolbox. "Let's take it apart."
"No," Julian said, grabbing one side of the sturdy frame. "It fits through the door as it is. Help me carry it."
Together, the two brothers lifted the crib, carrying it down the narrow hallway, past Doña Carmen, who was clutching her cross tightly.
As Julian passed her with the crib, Doña Carmen reached out, catching the edge of his sleeve.
"Julian..." she whimpered, her eyes filled with bitter tears. "Don't do this, my son. Look at what she's made you become. You're throwing away your mother for a woman who will leave you the moment you run out of money!"
Julian stopped. He slowly turned his head to look at her, his eyes devoid of any remaining warmth, affection, or regret.
"Mariana didn't make me become anything, Mom," Julian said, his voice flat and clear. "She showed me what real love looks like. Something you never taught me."
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He pulled his sleeve out of her grip, walked out the front door, and carried the crib down the stairs into the bright morning sunlight.
Behind him, the heavy apartment door slammed shut, echoing down the empty concrete stairwell like a final closing chapter.
