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“How do you think Steven felt, watching you two fight all the time; especially watching you beating on his mother over money?” Ms. Willis asked.
Hector let his head drop, staring at the carpet. “I know it couldn’t have been good at all. I didn’t feel good when my dad beat on my mother.”
“So, if you didn’t enjoy it as a child, why would you do it to your wife and in front of your own son?” she asked for clarification.
“I—I don’t know. I guess I felt in control of something, although it was wrong, and I don’t think I was in my right mind.” Hector rubbed his face, showing that he was tired. “If anything, I should’ve never put my hands on her, but I needed that money; even if I had to go through her to get it.”
The paging system announced the need for a doctor in ER as they continued talking. Steven, for the first time, saw his father pour his heart out. It had been a long while since his father’s eyes weren’t glazed with a new high. After a moment, Hector’s own words penetrated through his thick skull as tears flowed down his cheeks. He realized that the way he handled things in his household was the way his dad had handled his household, except his dad was a drunk. Same old song, different verse—drugs instead of liquor. “I treated them so wrong. The last thing my son said to me was that he forgave me and that if I really loved him, I would get some help.”
Ms. Willis could see that his son’s words were eating him alive. “At least he forgave you. Many children don’t get the opportunity to forgive anyone who treats their mother the way you did, and many of them are still living.” She got up from the chair and walked over to Hector. “Come on. Let’s go see Steven.”
Steven grabbed Michael’s hand, closed his eyes, and pictured the hospital room. They made it there before Ms. Willis and his dad, but not before his mom, who sat in the chair next to the bed, rocking back and forth like a child.
The woman placed her hand gently on Steven’s head. Steven could feel the warmth from Ms. Willis as he sat next to Michael.
“He has such a good heart,” Ms. Willis said softly, “and he’s such a good kid; especially since he knows how to forgive. Not everyone knows how to forgive. I’m going to recommend a therapist for your family. You need to get help for the drugs, too, and try to talk to your wife.”
Hector stood up, walking over to the bed. “But what can I do? He’s in a coma, and I’m afraid to talk to my wife, especially after all I put her through.”
“It’s going to take some time for her to deal with you, if she still wants this marriage to work.”
For the first time since they had entered the room, Mom spoke. “You need to get yourself right with God and right with yourself.”
Hector nodded.
“I can make suggestions and offer advice,” Ms. Willis continued, “but you’re the one who needs to be committed to following through on your son’s wish for you to get some help. So far, talking with me today is a good start. But don’t worry. I still believe your son is watching over you.”
Michael nudged Steven, who for some reason felt the urge to cry. “You’ll watch over him, right?”
Ms. Willis glanced at her watch, then reached into her pocket. “Here’s my card. You can call me or come downstairs to my office.”
“Thank you, Ms. Willis,” he said, shaking her hand.
“You’re welcome.” She touched Hector’s shoulder before walking to the door. “Although Steven has forgiven you, Mr. Santos, you need to forgive yourself, follow through with therapy, and break this terrible cycle. Things will only get worse if you don’t.”
“Yes, Ma’am. As easy as it sounds, I know it’s going to take some hard work to get right again.” He placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “I want to work things out with you, but after tonight, I figure our marriage is over.”
“Hector,” she said in a low voice. “our marriage has been over since the first time you hit me. We’ve been living a lie and we both know it. I wasn’t strong enough to leave, and now I’m paying for that. But more than this marriage, get help for yourself. Keep your promise to Steven.”
Hector recollected all of those words that he said about Steven. Saying that he had given up his life for his family, as though it was their fault. That’s something that no child should ever hear. Hector paced the room, knowing what to do but not knowing where to start.
“Go on home, Heather. I’ll stay with Steven.”
Hector’s hands trembled with the need for another fix. Sweat poured down his face as though the temperature in the room had turned to one hundred. The drugs were calling him. Somehow, this time Steven didn’t think his father would answer.
Hector fell asleep as Michael and Steven talked about their parents.
A young, Asian woman entering the room startled Hector from his nap. He sat up. “Sorry, I thought you were my wife.”
“No, I’m just coming to check on Steven’s vitals.”
Another nurse came into the room, helping to adjust Steven’s tubes while the Asian woman wrote notes in the chart.
“Hello, Mr. Santos. How are you this morning?” the nurse asked, retying her brunette hair in a ponytail.
“I’m hanging in. Thanks,” he replied, walking back to the window. Even Steven could tell his father was far from okay.
“You don’t look so well. Do you need to see a doctor, or anything?” she asked, walking toward him ready to check his vitals.
