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A little burp escapes from my wriggling son and my chest pounds with shame. What kind of father am I? My son is homeless; he has nothing, and it’s all my fucking fault.
The last thing I want to do is look at my failure, but Oscar calls for me and a primal instinct pulls me back towards the bed.
I stop in my tracks, though, when I see Cat absent-mindedly rubbing her throat. Pangs of guilt rip through my gut; it only serves to make me angrier at myself. I’m losing control, of my army, of my family, of myself.
“Dada! Dada!” Oscar reaches out for me. Cat’s eyes drift off, lost in some distant thought. It’s almost like I’m alone again.
“Dada!” Well, not completely alone.
My anger hardly falters, even as I pick my son up from his mother’s limp arms. “They know...” she whispers as Oscar’s little fingers wander over my face, pulling at my nose and then tugging at my ear.
“We should have kept going,” I grumble. “We would have missed them if we kept going.” I know accusing Catalina of sabotaging us is not the smart thing to do right now, but it seems like I can’t stop myself from making dumb decisions anymore.
Her eyes drift back to the here and now and I’m met with an icy glare. “We should have never left in the first place.... We’re supposed to be partners in this,” she says, gesturing towards the little monkey crawling over my shoulders. “I’m not your slave.”
“You’re my responsibility,” I growl, tugging down gently on Oscar’s ankle as he rolls a little too far over my shoulder. The little boy giggles as he slides back down my chest and into my arms, but he’s not satisfied yet. There’s still more climbing to do. I let him; his innocent exploring is the only thing keeping me from exploding right now.
Cat looks like she’s about to explode. Instead, though, she just bites down on her tongue and takes a deep breath. “What do we do now?”
The truth is that I don’t know, but I don’t dare tell her that. Our underground bunker was the only true safe haven in this city. Sure, Wilmar’s place is the next best thing, but, as was just made evident, it’s far from secure—especially if we decide to have shouting matches in the street...
“We stay here,” I say, hiding the uncertainty from my tone.
“But they know we’re here, and they know about Oscar...”
“They don’t know we’re at Wilmar’s,” I interrupt, ignoring the second, more worrying, part of her statement. People will know we have a son now. Eventually, word will get back to Dante...
Fucking hell.
If Cat hadn’t resisted, we might have already been clear of this hellhole by now. We’d be safe, and my biggest worry would be whether or not to return and help finish off Dante once and for all.
“Do you think they’ll come for us?” Cat asks, her voice starting to tremble. “... Do you think he will come for us?” The fear she holds for my brother is well founded, but it pisses me off, nonetheless.
“He can try,” I growl.
“No, he can’t!” Cat cries, suddenly standing up. “If he comes for us, then we’re screwed. Do you think he’ll let us live anymore? You haven’t seen him in two years. He regrets letting you live. The satisfaction of his cruelty has worn off. I was only a hostage to him; only a pawn to help keep you away and him alive, but now that you’ve stolen me back there’s nothing keeping him from dropping a bomb on this entire block and wiping us out for good!”
Oscar wraps his tiny arms around my neck and hangs on like a mountain climber. Suddenly, all I want to do is play with him.
... Maybe, if Cat had followed my orders, we’d already be roughhousing in the back of some car on the way to true safety...
“Calm down,” I order, gesturing towards our playful little boy. It stings my heart to think that he’s already gotten used to us fighting—or maybe it’s just because this fight isn’t quite as bad as the one that woke him up outside.
“How can I calm down!? Oscar is at risk...”
“You’re the one who wanted to stay.”
That might have been the wrong thing to say. “Don’t put this on me!” Cat yells, crossing her arms and plunging back down onto the rickety mattress. The bedsprings creak under her weight and my anger wanes just a little bit.
There’s no point in blaming anyone but myself for this. Cat is right, our relationship shouldn’t be a battle of power. If we’re going to survive, we need to be partners.
In my arms, Oscar reaches for his sulking mother. I sigh and lead him over to the bed, sitting on the far side of the small mattress to give Cat some space.
She turns her back and Oscar crawls out of my arms. I can feel Catalina relax ever so slightly when Ozzy starts crawling up her back.
“Hey, baby boy,” she sighs, leaning back on the mattress so that the clumsy infant can climb over her.
“Mama,” he gurgles, before his big green eyes wander over to me. “Dada.”
