The mother who was banging from the basement

Mateo knelt down to hug his daughter.

—Calm down, princess. Breathe with me. What happened?

Sofia clung to his neck. Her small body trembled against her father’s navy blue shirt.

—My mom is downstairs. She called me.

Mateo brushed a damp curl away from her forehead.

—Did you hear Mama Elena?

—Yes. It made our sound.

Mateo frowned.

Elena had been away from home for months.

At least, that’s what he believed.

The last time she’d spoken to her, Vanessa had said that her wife needed space and preferred not to see Sofia for a while. Then came brief messages, excuses about work, and a call that supposedly confirmed Elena was moving to another state.

Matthew had never been satisfied with those explanations.

But he had trusted Vanessa.

She was his partner for almost a year, the woman who prepared Sofia’s breakfast, took her to preschool, and waited for him at night with a hot dinner.

Now, as her daughter cried against her chest, that trust began to seem like a decision that could cost her everything.

“Vanessa,” she said, without taking her eyes off Sofia. “Why are you telling me this?”

Vanessa crossed her arms.

—Because she’s been making up stories all day. She’s obsessed with her mom.

“I’m not making this up,” Sofia protested. “She’s under the floor!”

Mateo got up slowly.

—What did you mean by saying it’s in the basement?

“Nothing,” Vanessa answered too quickly. “The girl heard the pipes and got scared.”

Mateo looked towards the hallway.

At the end was the basement door, a dark wooden door that had remained closed since they moved into that house.

She remembered that the doorknob would sometimes get stuck. She also remembered that Vanessa had started storing decorative boxes and tools there.

But I didn’t remember any lock.

“Since when has that door been closed?” he asked.

Vanessa moistened her lips.

—It has always been closed.

—I didn’t ask you that.

Silence fell between the three of them.

Sofia took her father’s hand.

—Daddy, come here. I’m going to show you.

She led him down the hallway. Mateo walked behind her, noticing Vanessa following a few steps behind.

When he reached the door, he saw the padlock.

It was new.

The black metal reflected the warm light from the ceiling. It was free of dust and showed no signs of wear. It was attached to a clamp that Mateo didn’t recall ever seeing before.

He touched the padlock with his fingers.

-What is this?

Vanessa let out a nervous laugh.

—Oh, Mateo, don’t start. The lock was malfunctioning, and I bought one so Sofia wouldn’t go downstairs.

-When?

-Last week.

—And why didn’t you tell me?

—Because you were busy.

Mateo looked at her.

—I work long hours. That doesn’t mean you can change the locks on my house without telling me.

Vanessa took a step towards him.

—Our house.

The correction was left hanging in the air.

Mateo looked down at Sofia.

The girl was staring at the padlock with an odd concentration, as if she were waiting for something to respond from the other side.

Then the blows came.

Three.

Break.

Of the.

Mateo withdrew his hand from the metal.

Vanessa put a hand to her mouth.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

“The washing machine,” she replied.

—The washing machine is in the kitchen.

—The vibrations travel through the walls.

Mateo put his ear to the door.

Is anyone down there?

No one answered.

He struck the wood again with his knuckles.

-Hello?

The basement remained silent.

Sofia squeezed his fingers.

—Make the sound, daddy.

—What sound?

The girl knocked on the door three times and waited.

Then he hit two more times.

Mateo looked at her, confused.

—Where did you learn that?

—My mom and I made it up. If I was hiding, she knew where to find me.

Mateo felt a chill run down his spine.

—When was the last time they played like that?

—Before Vanessa said that Mom had left.

He turned to his partner.

—What does that mean?

Vanessa shook her head.

—Don’t do this in front of the girl.

—Do what? Ask you why there’s a padlock on my basement door?

—Elena’s gone, Mateo. You know that.

—So why does my daughter think she’s here?

—Because he is four years old and doesn’t understand what happened.

—What exactly happened?

Vanessa opened her mouth.

Not a single word came out.

Mateo took his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight. He tried to look through the small gap between the door and the frame, but saw nothing but darkness.

—I’m going to open this.

Vanessa immediately intervened.

—No.

Matthew looked up.

-Sorry?