My heart dropped.
"How do you know the code to my home?"
Mila raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
Clarence took her coat from her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I gave it to her."
"She's here to see her mother. The code makes it easier."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"So you handed our door code to your ex-wife without even mentioning it to me?"
Clarence frowned at me.
"It's just a code. Don't blow it out of proportion."
Mila sat down beside Rachel and glanced at the soup on the table.
She covered her nose at once and looked at my mother.
"My mom has high cholesterol. She can't have anything this greasy."
"Now that there's a sick person in the house, the cooking should account for her health."
"Ma'am, be more careful next time."
My voice went cold. "My mother made that for me. If your mother wants something, she can make it herself."
Mila looked over at Clarence.
"Your wife has quite the temper."
Clarence lowered his voice and scolded me. "Mila's just worried about her mom. What's wrong with saying a few words?"
"Since Mom's cooking anyway, being a little more careful isn't any trouble."
Mila let it drop and turned to scan the living room, then frowned again.
"Why is the place such a mess?"
"My mother's not well. She needs a clean environment to recover."
"Clarence, why haven't you hired a cleaner?"
Clarence looked around, and to my disbelief, he nodded.
"It is a bit messy."
"Mom, you're home all day with nothing much to do. Couldn't you tidy up a little while you're at it?"
"Mila's mother isn't well. Seeing all this clutter affects her mood."
My mother froze where she stood, at a loss.
That was it. I couldn't hold back anymore.
"Clarence, my mother takes care of me and the baby. She cooks three meals a day and gets up in the night to help too."
"She's a person, not a machine. How is she supposed to cover everything?"
"And you? You come home, drop onto the couch, never change a single diaper, never mix a single bottle. When the baby cries, all you do is call for me."
"If the mess bothers you so much, clean it yourself."
Clarence couldn't keep his face together.
"Whose mother doesn't do all this when she comes to help with the newborn?"
"Why is it some big favor only when it's your family?"
My mother quickly grabbed my arm.
"Antonia, stop arguing."
"You just came out of recovery. Getting worked up is bad for you."
She bent down and started gathering the little clothes off the couch.
"It's my fault for not tidying up. I'll clean it now."
"It'll be spotless in no time."
I watched her bent back, and something in my chest closed up until I could barely breathe.
My father died young. She was proud and stubborn, and she raised my brother and me on her own.
And now, for my sake, she was bowing her head in front of Clarence and Mila.
I caught the clothes out of her hands.
"Mom, don't."
"Whoever thinks it's dirty can clean it."
Mila leaned back against the couch and laughed out loud.
"Clarence, looks like life after your remarriage isn't much better."
She stood and walked up to me.
"Antonia, don't get too pleased with yourself."
"If I could have had children, and Clarence's family hadn't been so against it, do you think he'd have divorced me?"
"You're nothing but a tool he found to have a baby!"
