The Hustle (Irreparable 4)

It’s when the little boy, whose hair I stroke as he sleeps in my lap eventually wants answers that I’ll finally be punished and then Maria can rest. He’s all I have left of Maria, but one day, he’ll understand I’m the reason he hurts. Then I’ll feel the full wrath of what I’ve done. He’s clung to me like I’m his lifeline the last few days. I’m trying to be strong for him, but in the moments I look into his eyes and know that sooner or later he’ll hate me, I break down. Although I’m aware enough to hide it from him and sick enough to want him to keep me on a pedestal.

I lift my head, staring at a man who appears ten years older than he did just six months ago. And just like that, guilt levels me again and all I want to do is flee the confines of the cramped car.

“Young man, I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

I huff, turning my head and then huff again. He doesn’t get it now, but he will. The anger coiled inside of me spring’s loose, taking aim at Maria’s father.

“How can you say that? You’re old, not blind. Open your eyes, Alejandro.” The boy shifting in my lap makes me pause, but as he settles back to sleep, I finish saying what Maria’s father needs to hear. “I killed your daughter and you’re just so consumed with your grief you can’t see that.”

Why the fuck he smiles infuriates me. I want to say more hurtful things to make him understand, to make him hate me. But his thick eyebrows draw inward and I see the pain I feel on his face. “No. It was the choices I made a long time ago when you and Maria were just children. I thought life in the cartel made me a man and money and power meant more than family. I could have married Maria’s mother, and while we would have been poor, we would have been happy. I’ll live with the burden of my mistakes until I take my last breath, but I don’t want you to.”

I’m fine with that. I’m not living anyway.

“You have Guadalupe and the kids.”

“You’re right and they’re the only reason I keep going. But they’ve seen things they’ll never forget. They’ll remember the times when I was like Eduardo. When hate and the need for power controlled me. You’re young. You have a chance to have a family who will never see you as a failure. You can cave to your hate as I did and live your life with regret, or you can do what a real man would do to honor Maria. You can find a way to be happy. She wanted that for you.”

All I can do is offer a faint nod as I turn my head and quietly look out the window. I have no idea what kind of man losing Maria makes me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. How does one move on when they’re lost? When every path they’ve ever chosen was the wrong one?

I stand between my brother and Mr. Torrente, trying to draw from their strength so I can get through this nightmare. The crying surrounding me blurs as I focus on the casket. Tears flow out of my eyes, but I don’t feel sorrow. Perhaps I’m no longer capable. I’m a shell of man, who will spend his life alone and hollow. A sentence I accept.

The lowering of the casket isn’t something I can witness. There’s too much finality in watching Maria being lowered into the ground. I walk away, leaving behind my heart that will remain with her under the earth in the cold and the dark where it belongs.

My brother finds me leaning against the limousine and stands next to me as we watch Maria’s family grieve. He won’t say it, but I know he wants to tell me how all of this could have been avoided. Brady’s the one person who hasn’t told me this wasn’t my fault.

“You have two choices now, little brother.” I grind my teeth but avoid lashing out. Apparently everyone’s going to give me unsolicited advice on how to move on and try to forget the love of my life is gone. “You can cling to the hate you feel and be a man no one wants to be around. Or, you can accept the love of your family and friends as you recover from this. You can be a brother, and an uncle to two little boys who adore you. I know what choice you think you want to make because it’s the same choice I would make in your shoes, but the Hunter brothers usually chose wrong. So, whatever you’re thinking, do the opposite.”

That’s all he says before he walks away from me.

I spend the next couple of days alone in my living room debating my options. It’s only when I open the door to my office that I’m positive of my choice. That for the first time since I lost Maria, I feel something. The pink room forces a smile to spread my lips. The cheerfulness burns my eyes, but I know the man I have to be. It’s the man I was when I was with Peyton.

The doorbell ringing interrupts the first glimpse of clarity in my life without Maria. I’ve been expecting Maria’s father. He’s moving with his family to Guadalajara to be close to Guadalupe’s family. I asked him to come by so I could say good-bye to Javier. Although as I approach the door with a heavy heart, I don’t know how I’m going to manage to do it. Javier’s my son, a part of Maria, and for all it’s worth, a part of me. The only good part. Not by blood, but by the bond our time together created, which is somehow stronger than I ever realized.

I’m taken aback as Mr. Torrente wheels in several suitcases and Javier enters behind him with a backpack. The brunt of him leaving hits me hard as Javier hugs my leg tightly and I rub the top of his head.

“Can you turn on the TV or something for him so we can talk?” Alejandro asks.

“Sure.” I turn the television to one of the cartoon channels and nod toward the hall.

It’s only to my office, but the walk takes forever as I come to terms with letting my son go. Alejandro enters the office with his mouth open. “Interesting color,” he laughs.

“Long story,” I mutter. “What do you need to talk about?”

He takes in a deep breath, holds it in and releases it slowly. Whatever he needs to say is hard for him and I wait, giving him the time he obviously needs to collect his thoughts.

“Javier doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay with his father.”

“His father’s dead,” I remind him with all the bitterness I feel.

It’s when he smiles at me that I understand. “He wants to live with you.” He confirms my thoughts.

“What?” I ask in utter disbelief. Not that Javier wants to live here, but that Maria’s father would agree to it.

“That’s what he wants.”

“Jesus, Alejandro. How can you agree to this? I’m barely holding myself together. How am I supposed to raise Javier?”

He’s silent for a while, just looking at me like he’s waiting for me to realize he’s wiser and more experienced. It’s not condescending exactly, more like he understands my situation better than I do.