The mounting pressure in my chest forces me to breathe. It’s too soon to put this kind of stress on her. I haven’t offered a firm commitment to her. She has fears also, and they appear to be rooted much more deeply than mine.
“My mother was a murderer, so nothing you can tell me will shock me, or make me think differently of you, but I understand why you’re worried. I can give you more time. I’m sorry for pushing.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“I do. I haven’t told you how much I want this to work. I want you and Javier in my life for the long haul. I can’t imagine a life you’re not a part of, so yes, I’ll give you some time. I’ll prove my commitment to you is honest, and then I hope you’ll share your past with me.”
Her eyes gloss with tears, and she whispers a thank-you. I bring her head to my lap and stroke her hair, feeling a strong need to protect her and her family from whatever haunts her.
“I’m going to keep you and Javier safe.”
“Then don’t ask me to share my past with you.”
“I won’t. I’ll wait until you want to tell me.”
Over breakfast, Franco seems like a new man, fully rejuvenated overnight. He calls me by name and seems completely coherent. Veronica helps him from the table to his favorite chair. Once everyone is dressed for the day, I ask Maria if she and Javier would like to go to the Center with me. I haven’t been in while, and I’d like to show her the work Brady and I have put into restoring the place and making it a welcoming spot for the kids who call the Center home. It’s one of the few things in my life I’m proud of, and I want to share it with her.
Tug holds my and Javier’s hands as we climb the steps to the Center. My stomach rolls as I remember the building well, although the facility is much larger and cleaner than it was when I was here nearly four years ago. I never went inside, but I sat in my car and stared at the building for close to an hour as rain pounded on the front window. It rains so rarely here, I actually considered it a sign, though a sign in favor or against I never did figure out. Javier was asleep in his car seat, and I wailed into the steering wheel, pondering the decision to give up my pride and joy. The doctors had just informed me that Papa’s condition was deteriorating. I had two dollars to my name. Payday was a week away and already spent. Javier woke and said, “Mama, we go inside?”
His voice, wrapped in so much innocence about what awaited him “inside,” made following through impossible. I could never give up the purest part of me, the one ray of sunshine in my otherwise dark existence. The decision to keep him was selfish, but I needed him to survive, to get up each morning. To this day, I question if I made the right choice.
“Are you okay?” Tug asks me softly.
I nod, and we go inside. A Hispanic man who appears to be in his thirties greets us. He’s casual in shorts and a T-shirt. He and Tug exchange bro hugs, and Tug introduces me to Rodrigo.
“Rodrigo is responsible for all of this,” Tug says, motioning with his hand.
“He’s modest,” Rodrigo says. “I started the Center, but Tug and Brady are responsible for all of this.”
Tug, modest? I almost choke.
A boy and a girl storm through the back door and run to Tug. He lifts the little girl in his arms and spins her around. The little boy with a thick head of black hair peeks up at me from behind Tug’s leg. He’s roughly Javier’s age and heart-meltingly cute. Tug sets the girl down and says, “Maria, I’d like to introduce you to trouble.”
They both giggle. “I’m not trouble, but she is,” the boy jokes, jerking a thumb at the little girl with long dark pig-tails. I notice the resemblance and figure they’re brother and sister.
The little girl whines, “Hey, I’m not trouble.”
Javier watches the two of them with curiosity.
“Say hello, Javier,” I instruct him.
He lifts his hand. “Hello.”
“What’s your name?” the little boy asks. Javier tells him. “I’m Paco, and this is my annoying little sister, Camilia.” Javier smiles. “You want to come outside and play with us?”
Javier glances up at me and asks, “Can I?”
I nod, and the three of them run out the back door.
“Rodrigo does good work here,” Tug says, gripping Rodrigo on the shoulder.
“Ah, I try.” Rodrigo waves a hand. “It’s getting harder and harder. So many orphaned babies in Mexico, thanks to the growing cartels.”
I whip my head around to Rodrigo, shock probably evident on my face. “These children lost their parents because of the cartels?”
“Sí, senorita. The cartels offer quick cash to families. It seems like a smart decision when you’re poor and hungry, but people are disposable in the cartel’s eyes.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, terrified for Javier’s fate if his father ever finds me. Who would take care of him? Would he wind up here after all? “And the kids end up here with you, waiting for a family?”