Oscar Diaz Imagines

Big Little Secret

Here you were sat. Sat on a cold, hard plastic chair in a room filled with unnatural, cold light. Everything was cold. Colder than the most freezing December nights in Russia, colder than the feeling of rejection. Stone. Cold.

Your daughter was fidgety on your lap, of course, mirroring your nervousness, your nausea, the pain in your chest at realizing why you were here. She looked up at you with her chocolate brown eyes, the beautiful, perfect eyes that reminded you of her Dad every time you saw them. This was nerve-racking.

Three months prior to today you had been laying in a hospital bed on your own, midwives and nurses and doctors scurrying around you frantically, trying to calm you down, only making it worse. Nobody had been there, let alone the one person whose presence you had been needing, craving the most.

Oscar.

He had gone to prison just about a year ago. It had been the most terrifying, traumatising day in your young life. Policemen, fully armed, kicking the door open and storming inside in the middle of the night, cuffing up the love of your life with hardly any words left for him, left for the criminal he was. But not for you.

You had always loved him dearly, every minute and every second, even of the time he was spending in jail. Your love wouldn't end just because he wasn't with you any more. He was with you. On the phone, during visitations, through numerous, romantic letters. And, most of all, in your heart.

One day after his imprisonment, after thousands of hot tears, shattered photo frames and hugs from friends, you blamed the morning sickness on the trauma you hat witnessed, on the numbing pain in your chest. But when your period failed to show up, you knew.

You hadn't told Oscar about the pregnancy. That is because you just weren't sure how he would cope. Being in jail was one thing, the girlfriend on the other side of the glass wall being pregnant was something else. A reason to panic. What if he wouldn't want you to keep it? What if he told you he wanted nothing to do with it?

So instead of telling your beloved boyfriend the simple truth, you hid your belly under floating dresses and wide, floral shirts, or you made up excuses when the birth date came closer. And after she was born, you asked your parents or friends to babysit, so you could visit Oscar on your own.

Yet, today was the day. You had planned this thoroughly, carefully. You had written down every word to say, every possible reaction and in return how to react. It hadn't been easy. With every passing day, with every smile of your daughter, you had begun to feel more and more shady. Why couldn't you just tell him? He deserved to know.

So, on a sunny Tuesday in the middle of April, you waited for Oscar to show up. Waited for his face to appear behind the transparent wall, waited for him to take the receiver of the telephone, while you held your daughter in your arms. The daughter who looked exactly like her Dad, that was what everyone said- Cesar, your parents, los Santos. Still, your heart was beating out of your chest.

Finally, Oscar in his orange jumpsuit appeared in your eyesight. His scruffy beard was neatly trimmed, yet he had bags under his eyes. Prison life wasn't easy, that's for sure.

Oscar slowly sat down and his eyes immediately fell onto the baby in your arms. Suddenly, there was no movement, no facial expression whatsoever. No words came out of his mouth.

You wanted nothing more than hug him, kiss him, introduce him to his beautiful daughter. Instead, all you received was silence.

Oscar ran a hand over his face and eventually picked up the phone.

"Who's that?" His signature voice asked roughly, without even bothering to say hello.

You gulped. Things weren't going as planned.