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So why did he grab me by the arm so tightly as soon as our lovely caseworker left? Why did he drag me to his office like I had done something wrong? And why did he just push me to the floor with such violence?
“Stay on the floor.” His voice is so much meaner than usual, bringing tears to my eyes. I haven’t cried since the children’s home. Mateo is always happy and that makes me happy.
Right now, he’s not happy.
I sit back on my haunches, my hands by my side, and look up at him. “Why did you do that?” I ask, sadness coating my voice and making it a little raspier. “My knees hurt.”
“Quiet, princess.” He walks around his huge desk and looks for something in one of the drawers.
I get up from the floor and walk to his desk. “Did I do something wrong?” I don’t want him to be mad at me. What if he gets so mad, he sends us back? What if the next time Ms. Hobbcomb comes, we have to leave with her?
When he doesn’t respond, panic grips my stomach and twists painfully. I put two hands on the desk to try and get his attention. “I’m sorry, I thought I was doing good. She looked pleased.”
He ignores me, still looking for something. “Please, look at me,” I beg. Tears are burning my eyes and I know they’re going to fall in a second. I can feel it because my throat is tight and hurts, and my voice is wobbly. “Mateo—Sir,” I correct myself straight away. “Please, don’t be mad. Please, I want to make you happy.”
He stops so suddenly I fear I said too much. He did say to be quiet. My eyes stay on an iron stick on his desk, so I don’t look straight at him. It’s not usually here. I’m not sure what it is.
“You want to make me happy,mia rosa?”
“Yes, Sir.” I grip the edge of his desk tightly and find the courage to look up. His eyes are boring into me. They’ve never been so dark.
“Then why did you get up when I told you to stay on the floor?” He’s not shouting and doesn’t sound violent, but his calm words scare me, and I understand I should have never gotten up.
I jump back to where he had pushed me and sit on the carpet. I don’t understand why, but I don’t care. He keeps looking for something and I look around the room. The fireplace is crackling and illuminating his beautiful library. He said I could borrow whichever book I wanted from his collection. Many of them have the word ‘rose’ in them, in English or Italian, and it always brings a smile to my face.
“Can I tell you a secret, my princess?Un segreto?” He finally found what he was looking for. I’m not sure what it is. He also grabs the metal stick I saw on his desk.
I’m a little apprehensive now, but his voice is back to being sweet. Maybe he’s not mad anymore. So, I nod.
He squats in front of me, bringing himself to my level. He starts screwing whatever he found to the stick, it’s long and sturdy.
“Promise not to tell anyone?” His eyes keep darting from me to whatever he’s holding.
I become more hesitant with every turn he makes with his hand, screwing the object a little tighter. Still, I nod again.
“Of all the kids I look after…you’re my favorite,” he finally says with a big smile.
My heart soars, relief flooding me. He’s not mad, he’s not. I always hoped to be his favorite, and to hear it from him is a better feeling than Christmas morning.
“You’re my little princess. You know you are, right?”
“Yes. Yes, I do!” I squeal.
“Buono.Lie on the floor for me, princess.”
I don’t think twice about it. Maybe it’s a new game. I trust Mateo, and whatever he’s got in mind, it’ll be fun. Because I’m his favorite.
Flat on my stomach, hands under my right cheek, I look at him from the floor as he walks to the fireplace.
And I don’t get it.
With a smile on my face, I watch him put the weird metal baton into the fire.
And I don’t get it.
I tap my feet on the floor to a happy rhythm as he tells me to close my eyes.
And I don’t get it.
