La Panzona (English version)

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I was with my Friday client, a retired gringo who'd come to live in Jacó. Some weekends he'd come into San José to shop for his business and then stop by to see me. That Friday he felt sick — chest pain hit him and his stomach went bad on him, it was really scary! Of course I went with him to the hospital, but they wouldn't let me in with him. So, not to lose the night, I went back to the bar. That's the day I met Bryan. He came up to me, bought me a drink, and that's how it all started. He wasn't a client of mine, no, no way. I know how to keep things separate. He was my love.

Quick, he moved in with me and settled right into what I was earning. He'd even find me clients sometimes who paid well. The "honeymoon phase" passed and he started acting strange with me. He'd tell me how little money I'd made that night, slap the back of my head, shove me, point his finger at me like a threat. Sometimes he seemed possessed. But then we'd make up and it was love again, like always.

Five months into being with him, I find out I'm pregnant. You have no idea the happiness I felt! I started thinking about names, looking at baby clothes, imagining us living somewhere bigger, the three of us. And, of course, since I'm pregnant, it occurs to me to ask him why he doesn't work while I'm like this, but no way — he yells at me no, that with the belly I make more money. And really, the second I said I was pregnant, the work piled up on me, but I swear to you I couldn't take it anymore. And he just kept getting worse: insulting me, slapping me, taking the money out of my purse. Then he'd go back to being sweet and affectionate. He even brought me things for the baby one day.

The months went by like that. My belly grew and grew, and so did the client list. One day, more than eight months pregnant, Bryan comes in with a gun and puts it against my belly and starts stroking me with it, and undresses me, and I get scared for the baby. I tell him to put the gun down, that it scares me. He sets it on the nightstand. He throws me onto the bed, turns me onto my back, pulls my hair, and — you know the rest. Then the baby kicks, so hard.

Bryan keeps going and the baby kicks even harder. Then, in one quick move, I manage to jump from the bed to the floor. Of course he loses it. Asks if I've lost my mind, tells me to get back in bed. And I tell him no, that something could happen to the baby. And he shouts that he doesn't care, that I have to finish what he started. Then my water breaks and I stop feeling the baby. You should've seen the scare.

And he kept being stubborn about it. I knew being pregnant lit him up like fire, I knew that, but — can you imagine if something happened to my baby?

Then he shouts at me again. I get scared. He gets up and punches me in the face, I go dizzy, he yanks my arm and spins me around. The gun is a few inches from me. A cramp hits me. I scream. He says, "my sweet pregnant girl." Another cramp comes, worse this time. When it passes and I catch my breath, I break free of him and grab the gun he'd left on the nightstand, and I beg him to let me go because I need to get to the hospital.

He smiles that smile, you know? That ugly face that scared me. And he comes toward me. And I move to the side, another cramp hits me, and I don't know at what point — I hear the shot, and him on the floor.

What else can I tell you?