Flee (3 page)

Mateo

Mom was sitting in a lounge chair by the pool when I arrived home. Doodles, lying beside her, was enjoying an ear scratch.

“How did you manage that?” I was astonished to see the dog, who had yelped whenever we got too close only this morning, allowing the contact.

“It was just a matter of looking him in the eyes and having a little heart-to-heart. I think we're on the same page now.”

“And so it would have nothing at all to do with the box of gourmet dog treats you're currently hiding beneath that pillow?”

“Absolutely not.” Mom raised her chin in mock defiance and tried to glare at me, but the corners of her mouth turned up and ruined the effect. “The housecleaner must have left those there. So, how was school?”

“Changing the subject, are you? Okay, I'll play along. It was a good first day. Academically it's going to be a breeze. Señor Lopez promised you he would have me well prepared for any Ivy League School in the States, and although this school is tough, it has nothing on Señor Lopez. Can't say that I'm not glad to be rid of him. And oh,” I said, puffing up my chest and winking at her, “You're looking at West Austin Academy's newest varsity football team kicker. Proud of me?”

“Always,” she answered, her face serious. Then she laughed out loud. “This is something I never imagined. I'm going to love this! I will be the loudest, most obnoxious fan a kicker has ever had. Oh, I guess we need to go get you some cleats and other equipment.” She stood up, Doodles getting up with her, his eyes on the box of treats she now held in her hand. “Do you know yet what you need?”

“It always comes back to shopping with you, doesn't it?” I joked, but inwardly I was rejoicing. She was really enjoying this moment, just like she said. I had been trying to make her smile and laugh for months.
Thanks for thinking of me, Blake
. Blake. Sad eyes. Broken heart? What was hurting her?

“Hey, earth to Mateo. Where'd you go?” Mom stared at me, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Her expression shrewd.

“I was just remembering something from school. No big deal.” I shrugged my shoulders and tried to play if off, but she wasn't fooled.

“It didn't look like ‘no big deal'. Want to tell me about it?” Crap. I could never pull anything over on this woman. I don't know why I bothered to try. She knew my thoughts sometimes before even I did. We had an unusually close relationship. It came from “doing time” together, as we had jokingly referred to it, in our home in Baja.

“I'm just worried about someone I met at school today. She has your eyes.” Looking into Mom's sad blue eyes, I saw Blake's green ones.

“Red-rimmed and surrounded by crow's feet?” Mom moved to head inside, motioning me to follow.

“Naw,” I answered, following her to the door. “You have the market cornered on crow's feet. But you're not far off on the red-rimmed part. She's sad.”

“Oh, Mateo.” Stopping at the back door before she opened it, Mom turned and looked at me with such an expression of concern I wanted to hug her. “You promised you would maintain a distance. Day one and you're already worried about someone. You've been trying to help people since before you could talk. Remember giving your beloved pacifier to your cousin Alexandra when she wouldn't stop crying?”

“Not really, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “I was two. And I am maintaining a distance. Just because I said I was worried doesn't mean I'm getting involved.” Truth or lie? I couldn't stop thinking about her. Did that qualify as involved?

“I know you better than that. You're the king of the bleeding heart. You were born to fix things, to make wrongs right. Look at what you are trying to do with us, here. But you can't fix everything, and it's dangerous for you to try. Dangerous for her, this Miss Sad Eyes. For her sake, let it go. I'm sure she has friends to help her through whatever it is that's bothering her. You just go to class, make good grades, and kick some butt on the football field.” She finally opened the door and moved inside to the kitchen, her footsteps heavier than they had been, her brow creased.

“Yes ma'am,” I replied, mockingly saluting her, hoping to lighten the mood. She was right. I knew it. I would have to keep my distance from Blake or risk being sucked into her world. My world was all I could handle right now. “How was your day? Did you, uh, hear from anyone?”

“If you are referring to your dad, you know I would tell you if he called. It's funny, in twenty-five years of marriage I've never gone this long without seeing him.” She ran a trembling hand through her hair. “I don't think I've ever gone more than a day without at least talking to him. It's been three weeks. I knew he would be hurt when we left, but I never imagined he wouldn't return my calls. He should understand. He does understand, doesn't he? Will he ever forgive us?” Her shoulders drooped, and she hung her head, trying to hide the tears that filled her eyes.

“I don't know if he understands or not. He hasn't been himself the past few months. But there's nothing to forgive, and you know it.”

I reached my hand down and gently grabbed her chin and raised her face to look at me. “Since when is self-preservation a crime?”

“Maybe when it requires you to run like mad for the safety zone leaving everything and everyone you love behind.” She spoke the words softly, but there was an edge of bitterness to them.

“We didn't abandon them, Mom. We asked them to come with us, to walk away from it all. We are right, morally and ethically and spiritually right, and they know it. What's going on is wrong. Turning a blind eye to it was destroying us.” I spoke with great conviction. I'd gone over every detail of our lives, explored every gut-wrenching option, before I had approached Mom with the idea of leaving. It wasn't something we had entered into lightly.

“I'm so scared for them, Mateo. For their lives. Their souls. For everything. I love you and your dad and your brothers more than life itself. How did it come to this? What do we do?” I moved closer to her and grabbed her trembling hand, squeezing it in mine.

“We do what's right. One minute, one hour, one day at a time. We live our life here and figure it out as we go along. And we get you out of this house more and involved in the things you love. You're becoming a downright drag to be around. See, even Doodles looks depressed.” Doodles actually looked content, curled up in his new bed under the kitchen desk. Traitorous dog. I switched tactics and went for distraction.

“Come on, Mom, let's go get those cleats. And then I'm treating you to dinner, Tex-Mex style.”

****

After dinner I persuaded Mom to call her sister in Waco and I shut myself up in my room to organize my school binders and think. I would be a fool to think that we'd really escaped with no more consequence than the family silence we were currently enduring. Questions about the future had tormented me for two years, since I had discovered that the family business that funded my privileged life was more than just a winery and one of Mexico's largest import/export ventures. The conclusion that I had come to then still rang true with me now, but I was no closer to solving it. We needed an alternative source of money. Every day that we had to live off of that tainted, bloody money was anathema to me, but I didn't know how to support us. What I did know was that Mom couldn't handle any more change right now. I was willing to take a vow of poverty, but I wasn't willing to ask her to do that. The only plan I currently had in place was to finish my senior year and then strike out on my own financially, working to pay for college and living as frugally as I could. Mom wouldn't like it, but I was hoping she would understand. With a grunt, I shook my head and turned to my history homework.

****

The sun wasn't even a thought in the sky when I awakened the next morning. Sleep just didn't seem to be my companion lately. I got up, fed Doodles, and paced around the kitchen restlessly. A run. I needed to run and clear my head. The streetlights in our windy, tree-filled neighborhood were sparse, and since I didn't relish the thought of being struck by a car before I'd even had breakfast, I decided to head for the track around the football field at school. Leaving a note for Mom, I grabbed a water bottle, protein bar and my bag, and left. There were only two other cars in the parking lot when I arrived. One I recognized from the day before as the janitor's. My truck could have eaten the other, a little red Mini-Cooper, for lunch.

A repetitive thumping sound interrupted my walk to the track. What was that? I knew that sound, but my sleep deprived mind refused to identify it. It was coming from behind the gym, so I rounded the corner and stopped, hidden in the darkness, and then smiled at the sight before me. Blake. Beautiful. She moved in the light from a streetlamp, expertly juggling a soccer ball and counting softly to herself each time she made contact. Her control was good. She didn't have to move much to connect with the ball. It landed where she expected it to, and she gently sent it back into the air.

“Two-forty-three, two-forty-four…” She turned her head as the ball moved slightly and saw my shadow. The ball hit the ground with a thud, and she kicked it in frustration. “Crap. I was going for a record.”

“Impressive. I'm sorry I distracted you.” I kicked her ball back to her, and she trapped it beneath her left foot. Beautiful and athletic. And hurting. Why was she hurting? I couldn't ask that, so I attempted light and trivial. “You didn't tell me you played soccer.”

“You didn't ask,” she replied, looking down.

“Touché.”
Look back up, Blake. Don't be sad
.

Her head popped up suddenly as if she heard me and I jumped
. Calm down Mateo. She's not a mind reader
.

“What are you doing here so early? Didn't anyone tell you school doesn't start until eight? You're two hours too early, Soccer Boy.” Defiant now. Changing the subject. Red-cheeked and bright-eyed from exertion. Never more attractive.

Distance, Mateo
, I reminded myself. I needed to walk away and go for that run.
Just do what you came here to do
. But she was alone. Vulnerable. And I knew I couldn't leave her behind the gym in the dark.

“Well, Soccer Girl.” I grinned at her and hoped I could lighten the mood. “I thought I would go for a run. Wanna join me?” So much for distance. “Although I must warn you, my awesome speed and finesse are a sight to behold, and you might rather just watch.” I hoped to draw a smile. I got a smirk instead.

“Well someone had a big dose of himself for breakfast.” She looked at the track, hesitant. A deep breath. A shrug of her shoulders. “Okay, I'll join you. See what you've got. I hope I'm not disappointed. I hate to start the day off on a sour note.”

“No worries there. I promise a brilliant start to the day.”

We ran in silence for the next forty-five minutes. I shortened my stride some to match hers and enjoyed the quiet companionship. Her breathing remained even and steady. She was in great shape and more used to the heat and humidity than I was. Finally, I slowed to a walk and she slowed beside me.

“Thanks,” she said, eyes on shoes, voice soft and sad. “I haven't had a running partner in a while. It was nice to not be alone.”

“Anytime,” I replied, wondering at her statement. “I enjoyed it as well. I'm used to running by myself or being trailed by Hector.”

Too. Much. Information. So far I was really failing to follow my own guidelines. Why was I finding that so hard around her? I had once kept from my father for over a year the fact that I was the one who had wrecked his jeep, despite multiple questionings and having to wear long sleeves in the summer for a month to hide my bruises. Why did I fight to filter my words around Blake?

“I'm guessing Hector's a dog?” She turned to look at me, eyes wary, but otherwise calm. Much more relaxed than before her run.

“Yeah, something like that.” Hector was the unfortunate bodyguard assigned to protect me. He had been my shadow since I was ten, and for several years I had made it my duty to ditch him. But he was unditchable and I had finally given up, growing used to him being in the background of so many of my memories or trailing behind me on my runs. Somewhere along the line, he had even become a good friend. He was also one of my soccer team's biggest fans. I owed him for keeping me safe, and he owed me for introducing him to exercise and helping him shed twenty pounds. Now that we were here, I realized that I missed him. And worried about him. What had he been reassigned to do? Blake reached up to tighten her ponytail, and the rising sun shone on her head, accentuating her blond highlights. And just like that, I forgot all about Hector.

“How often do you run before school?” The morning was peaceful and filled with Blake's beauty. I didn't want it to end.
I've lived a sheltered life
. Of course I already knew that, but I hadn't realized how it set me up to fall for the first girl willing to talk with me. I resolved to talk with many girls that day, as well as getting to know the guys. I obviously needed some balance.

Blake bent to stretch her legs before she replied, her pony-tail now flopping down and obscuring her face. But I didn't need to see it to know she was sad. Her voice gave her away. “I used to run with my dad almost every morning before school, either here on this track or on the Town Lake trails. Now I usually run in the afternoon or evenings in my neighborhood. Today was my first morning run since…” she stopped. Stood. Her lips trembled until she bit her lower one to stop it. I waited as she worked to regain her calm demeanor. After a few seconds, she continued.

“Anyway, it was sort of a goal of mine to do this for a while now, and when I woke up this morning it just seemed like the right time. Then I arrived and chickened out, so I started juggling instead. I'd probably be there still if you hadn't shown up. I guess it was serendipitous.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Serendipitous?”

“Yeah, it's a big word. You can look it up later.” Her eyes twinkled for a moment, then darkened again with sorrow.

“Your dad's gone?” I guessed softly, carefully watching her reaction and hoping I wasn't probing too much. I knew what it was like to bear painful memories. Sometimes it helped to share them and sometimes it didn't.

“Both of my parents died in February,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible. Tears filled her beautiful green eyes, making them almost glow. “I think that's the first time I've admitted that out loud since it happened. I suppose that's what Mary would call progress.” Big tears now steadily rolled down her face. I couldn't just stand there. I pulled her into my arms in a tight hug and held her as she began to sob. So that was the source of her pain. I didn't know how to make that better, so I just held on and gently rubbed her back, wishing my strength on her.

“I'm sorry,” she said after a couple of minutes, pulling back and looking me in the eyes. I almost gasped at the breathtaking vulnerability I saw on her. For just a moment I could see her soul. It was pain. It was beauty. It was struggle. Then the look was gone. Replaced by a forced smile. She grabbed and held her nose. “Wow, Soccer Boy, you stink. Don't they make deodorant in Mexico?”

“You're not exactly sporting a powder-fresh scent yourself, you know.” The moment was gone and holding her was beginning to feel awkward, so I released her. And instantly regretted it. She had felt so right in my arms. “I'm really hoping there's a men's locker room with a shower somewhere on campus. Otherwise I'm in danger of becoming the most unpopular student here.”

“Ha. As if that was possible. We love fresh meat. But I'll show you where to go. And thanks again. You made today easier.”

Staff and some students had started to arrive. Several turned to look at us before proceeding to their destination. A few nodded at me and smiled. Yeah, fresh meat. And under a microscope apparently. Some of the football players seemed to be heading for the weight room for what I guessed to be a before-school work-out. Wade was one of them. He stopped and very deliberately watched me walk with Blake from the track. Blake stepped a little away from me, her posture careful and guarded, her eyes once again downcast.

“Mornin', Wade,” I said when we arrived in front of him.

“Hey, Mateo. “ His voice was kind, but not as friendly as the day before. “I hear you're going to be our new kicker.” He looked from me to Blake and back again.

“I'm gonna try.”

“He'll get the job done,” Blake spoke up quietly, and then pointed down the hall. “Showers are that way, Soccer Boy.” She then turned and walked away without a backward glance.

Wade watched her for a moment before speaking. “Was she running here? Were you running with her?” There was a jealous edge to his voice. I decided to downplay it.

“We bumped into each other. She was here before me.”

“Oh. Did she…uh, was she okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why do you ask?” I instinctively knew the private moment we had shared needed to stay private. I didn't think Blake would appreciate me blabbing about her breakdown, and judging from her body language, especially not to Wade.

“No reason. I'm just surprised. I, uh, better get in there,” he said, gesturing to the weight room and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Don't worry, kickers aren't required to lift weights before school. Just keep that foot in shape.”

“Will do,” I replied, turning toward the locker room.