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“The two of you will help each other. I believe it’s what Maria would want,” he says and although a part of me believes him, the other part feels like she’d never want me to have Javier because I failed her. And in time, I will only let Javier down, too.
“I can’t.” When I see his glaring disappointment, I want desperately to be a man worthy of his faith. But one can’t accept faith who doesn’t believe he can be saved. “I don’t know how to be someone’s father.”
“You did it before.”
“I had Maria before.”
“And you have your family now. They’ll help you.”
Keeping Javier feels so right, but it also feels selfish, like I’m doing it to hold onto a piece of Maria. But what if it’s a chance to do right my Maria and her family? What if it’s a chance to prove I care about more than myself or my pain? I have no clue why it feels right, when I know it’s wrong. “What if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
“You’re confidence in me is astounding.”
“Spend the night with him. We’ve postponed leaving until the morning. If you wake up tomorrow and you still feel you can’t keep him, then call me.”
I reluctantly agree because I want the night with Javier before I have to do the right thing and let him go. Much like Alejandro, experience guides me and in my experience there’s no way I’m capable of being Javier’s father. Never mind that I don’t deserve to be.
Alejandro hugs Javier good-bye and shakes my hand, sending me a parental look again before he leaves. I sit on the couch next to Javier without a clue how to start a conversation. I’m in way over my head. His big brown eyes look at me so full of questions that I don’t know how to answer. But I also see love in the innocent gaze of my son. My son.
I have definitely misjudged the attachment this little boy has to me. His eyes continue pleading with me to accept him into my life, but he’s just a kid. He doesn’t know the man I am now. He remembers a time when I believed life was worth living. When we were a family. Nights of board games and pizza and living under the illusion we were meant to be together. Before I was broken and hollow and convinced I’m supposed to be alone. Still for tonight, I’m responsible for him and no matter how painful, I owe him a conversation.
“Your grandfather says you don’t want to go to Guadalajara. That you want to live with me. Is that what you want?”
He nods, tears cascading down his little cheeks. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I say, pulling him into my arms.
For at least twenty minutes I let him cry, allow him time to exhale all of his grief. I take it all in for him; feel all of the suffering he’s been holding in.
“I didn’t want to go, but mommy said we had to. I thought you didn’t want us anymore.”
Nothing can stop the tears from flowing. He’s speaking of the night Maria left me. My heart hurts, but it’s also full of joy, of love and of a need to protect him from everything ugly in the world. I’d assumed his tears were grief, but they’re more. They’re brought on by misunderstanding, from a time he was ripped out of my life and placed unwilling into a new life, where he was forced to be someone other than the sweet little boy in my arms.
“Oh,
buddy. I always wanted you and your mom, but things happened.”
I want to tell him how it was his father that kept us apart, but I can’t. Javier doesn’t need to know what a sick man Eduardo was. I won’t taint him. I’ve lived knowing everything about who my mother was, always drawing comparisons simply because we share blood. No, I won’t inflict that kind of pain on Javier.
“My papa was mean to her.”
His having seen glimpses of who his father was hinders my ability to protect him. The ache in my chest grows stronger as I watch his tiny body tremble.
“That’s not your fault,” I say firmly. Maybe too firmly because he bursts into tears again. This is why I’ll fail him, because I don’t know what to say or how to make his world right again. How do you return innocence to a child that was stolen by his own parents? If I knew the answer I wouldn’t be so fucked up. I would’ve restored my own virtue and saved everyone I love a lot of grief.
“I couldn’t protect her.” He sobs uncontrollably as though losing his mom is finally hitting him. “I should have tried, but I was too afraid. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay to be afraid. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
There’s nothing left for me to ponder. My son is home and I’ll never let him go. Our love for his mother bonds us, and I will raise him to be a man she can be proud of. A man nothing like the one he shares blood with. I’ll give him the future Maria wanted him to have, the one she gave her life for. I’ll put aside all of my guilt and all of my grief and be the father Javier deserves. All that matters now is ensuring he doesn’t grow up blaming himself and the first step is giving him hope.
Month Three . . .
“Where are the boys?” I ask, returning from the store with the items Tori sent me for.
Tori laughs, pointing at the table for me to set the groceries down. “They’re in the studio with Brady, pretending to be rock stars.”
