Flee (6 page)

****

Dreary, dreary weather. I stood by the classroom window, punching out perforated bulletin board pictures and watching the rain gently sprinkle on the laughing kids outside. The grey sky reflected my mood and cried for me. But not with me. I held my breath and bit my cheek and refused to give in to tears. Today was the first Service Saturday of the year, and I was barely holding it together. My mom, a big believer in
to whom much is given, much is required
, had pioneered the Service Saturday project my freshman year. This was my first time to participate since her death, and I felt the absence of her presence keenly. My group had been assigned to an elementary school in a disadvantaged part of town, and I was glad the light rain gave me an excuse to seek an indoor task. I didn't want to have to interact with the rambunctious kids chasing the soccer ball outside, glad for the chance to run and play during their bi-monthly Saturday school day. The energy vibrating off them was almost visible. I hid from it behind the window, listening to Callie make small talk with a teacher.

Callie's concerned eyes were watching me carefully. She apparently knew I was standing on the edge emotionally. She had hovered over me like a mother hen all morning. I would be seriously annoyed if I weren't so grateful.

“Has anyone else from our group arrived?” she asked, coming up beside me, her blue eyes scrutinizing my face. I looked away from her too-penetrating gaze and pressed my forehead against the damp window.

“Quite a few, actually. Most of the guys are joining in the soccer game. The girls seem to be avoiding the rain and mud and going to the craft table.” I watched as a ball flew through the air and was expertly trapped underneath the foot of a ten year old.

“Wow, these kids are good. They could probably totally take our high school team.” I tapped on the glass restlessly.

“What is it with boys and mud?” Callie asked, laughing as a ten-year-old boy and a West Austin Academy student both attempted a slide tackle into a puddle.

“I enjoy playing in the mud myself sometimes.” My eyes followed the truck that had just pulled into the parking lot, and my heartbeat increased its tempo. Mateo emerged, and just like that, my restlessness dissipated. He slung a bag of balls over his shoulder and headed for the giggling mass of muddy kids, oblivious to the soft rain shower. I smiled and pressed my forehead against the window again to get a better look. Callie glanced outside, then looked sharply at me, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“What?” I asked sharply when she remained silent.

“Nothing,” she replied in the same tone, a smile playing about the edges of her mouth. She was really beginning to irritate me.

“Here.” I handed her the cardstock pictures I was holding. “Go staple these to something.

“Don't tempt me,” she responded, taking the pictures and moving away.

Mateo had set down his bag of balls and was now in the middle of the action. My view from the foggy mirror wasn't the best, but I shamelessly watched him anyway. After running around in the impromptu game for a little while, Mateo stopped the action and gathered the kids around him, talking and motioning with his hands. When he finished, the kids cheered and West Austin Academy students hoisted them onto their backs and then took off after the ball. The kids were laughing and cheering their carrier, the ball jumping crazily around. The game progressed with lots of fun but no real scoring in the barely controlled chaos until the players finally collapsed in a dog pile in the middle of the field, laughing and wrestling. Mateo stood, one kid clinging to his neck and others on each of his legs. He made his way slowly and awkwardly toward the snack table, tickling his new appendages, who giggled and desperately tried to hang on as he moved.

“This is so great for the kids.” Their teacher had joined me at the window, and she too smiled as she watched the action. “They've been cooped up all week doing assessments as we try to figure out where everyone is. I just hope their parents don't kill us when we send them home dirty.” She laughed as two boys jumped on Malcolm Miller's back, and he fought to stay upright.

“Oh, look, there's no one to work the snack table. Come on, Blake.” Callie grabbed my arm, none too subtly, and dragged me from the safety of the classroom. I started to protest, but she ignored me, and before I could think, I was handing out cookies and apples and water bottles to muddy, happy kids. And avoiding looking at their faces. It was too much life, too much energy, too much happiness. It was everything I had lost. Despite my efforts to breathe deeply and hold it together, my hands began to tremble, and I had to fight hard to keep tears out of my eyes.
I cannot break down in front of these kids
.
It'll freak them out. I have to hold it together.
By focusing on closing my fingers around each apple and handing them up without looking, I somehow managed to stay at my task.

This is miserable. I shouldn't have come. It's too soon
. A hand closed around mine as I held up what felt like the kajillionth apple, and I finally looked up, straight into Mateo's concerned blue eyes. Calm washed over me, and I was able to take a deep breath. He squeezed my hand and then let go, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to the kid still sitting on his shoulders.

“You seem to have some sort of growth around your neck.” Wow. I felt calm. I sounded calm. I had gone from near nervous breakdown to joking and relaxed almost instantly. Who was this guy? “You should have that looked at. It could be dangerous.”

“Oh, I have no doubt it's very dangerous.” The boy laughed, yanking on Mateo's hair. “Ouch! This is Ramon, and I'm about to teach him a very important lesson about what happens when you mess with the wrong man. After all,” Mateo said, reaching up and grabbing Ramon and swinging him down. “We are at school. Ramon, I'll give you a ten-second head start.” The boy took off running and laughing. Mateo turned back to face me.

“You okay?”

I nodded. He squinted his eyes and examined me.

“Would you do me a favor? I brought a bag of balls for the kids to use at PE.” He jerked his head to the right, indicating where ball bag sat. “Would you grab it and make sure it gets to their teacher?”

I nodded again, glad for the excuse to get away from the front lines.

“Hang in there,” he said softly, turning his head to locate Ramon and rubbing his hair where it had been pulled. “I gotta run. Justice must be served.” Watching him go, I clung to the sense of contentment that still filled me.

Mateo

“So, what's this all about?”

Mom's voice startled me. She hadn't been home when I arrived, an event that both scared and pleased me. I wanted her to build a life here, and yet I wanted her to stay home and be safe. I trusted that the security detail I hired was discreet and professional. She shouldn't know she was being followed, but someone should always be near enough to defend her if necessary. Defend her from what was the question. From Dad's
people
, trying to force her back home? From our family's enemies, trying to strike at the heart and make a point? Or would we continue to be, as we had been so far, simply left alone? I had to be prepared for anything.

“What is what all about?” I said, relieved to see her. To see her smiling with shopping bags under one arm was an added bonus.

“You're playing your happy music.” She waved her arm in the direction of the smartphone dock on the kitchen counter that was currently blaring
Rush
from its speakers. “And you're building an enormous sandwich, bigger than you could ever possibly fit in your mouth. And you're using those forks to play the drums on my granite countertop, which I must point out, I will use to impale you in the eyeballs if they leave a scratch.”

I smiled, aborting my drum solo mid-beat. Despite the cloud hanging over my family, the past three weeks of school had been good. I had been right about not continuing private tutoring. Being in school was forcing both Mom and me to get away from our circumstances and live life. It was the distraction we both needed, but it was also more than that, because Blake… I stopped myself. Blake had become my running partner and quiet friend, and I struggled to maintain the emotional distance I knew I must. I had to stop thinking about her all of the time. If only I could figure out how.

“I just enjoyed school today. I enjoy interacting with so many people, the physical challenge of football, seeing…” I stopped, afraid to admit that I enjoyed being with Blake. But she was quick, and I had already given away too much information.

“Little Miss Sad Eyes again? Your heart of compassion is what I love and fear most about you, Mateo.” She sighed and set her bags down. “You have a greater capacity to love than almost anyone I've ever known. It scares me so much as your mom, because it has the potential to bring so much pain into your life. What if you love, and you're not loved back? What if you give your heart and soul to someone and it ends badly? Will you ever be the same? What if you can't fix whatever is wrong? It'll torture you, I know. What if you really fall for this girl, and she falls right back for you, and then she gets hurt because of who and what we are? You would never forgive yourself. And yet I can't ask you to live your whole life and never love. These are really hard circumstances, and I'm not sure how to navigate them.”

She moved closer and gave me a quick hug. “I don't know what advice to give you. But I do know it doesn't matter. You'll find your own way, you always do. You'll determine what's right and stick to that course no matter what, like we're doing here. Where you get that strength of character, I don't know. I'm afraid I would fold and run home with my tail between my legs if it weren't for you, and feel guilty and miserable. I'm grateful to have you, Mateo.”

“I think you have that backward. I'm the one who's lucky. If there's any good in me, it's come from you.” I looked down at my sandwich, going over her words in my head. She'd brought up a lot of good points for which I didn't have answers. I wished I was as sure of myself as she was of me. I turned down my music and placed the offending forks in the sink. Picking up my sandwich, I glanced at her shopping bags.

“Why were you shopping at babyGap?” Mom looked down at the bags, smiling, and then back up at me.

“Well, on my way to the store this morning I passed this girl panhandling on the corner of Flint Canyon and MoPac. She was young and miserable looking and strung-out. I don't know on what. The saddest part was she was very pregnant. It broke my heart. I gave her some money, not much. I hope she used it to feed herself. And then I decided to buy her some clothes and things for the baby. I'm going to put together a care package, include some food and gift cards and some names and addresses of places here in town where she can go for some help. I'll need to do a little research and calling around on that. And I hope I can find her again tomorrow to make my delivery.” Mom's face was animated, as it always was when she had a cause.

“And you accuse
me
of wearing my heart on my sleeve? I'm proud of you, though. It's the right thing to do.” Her eyes were contemplative. I knew she was thinking it was not enough. She wouldn't let her conscience be eased until every drug addict she found was clean and healthy.

“Do you think, Mateo, that your father would let me continue to work on the Clean Water Initiative?” She looked anxious. I could tell this had been on her mind. It was a good sign. She was beginning to see past us, past our circumstances, and do what she did best, which was focusing on the needs of others. She didn't do well when she wasn't helping people.

“I don't see why not.” I thought for a minute and then continued. “It's good PR for the family, and he's always been behind it one hundred percent. You wouldn't even have to interact with him at all, just the board. He can continue to consider us dead to him, and you can continue to do good works in his name. I gotta say, Mom, you're getting the short end of the stick on that.”

“It's okay. My consolation is knowing more and more people across Mexico will have safe drinking water. I don't care who gets credit. It's never been about that for me. And when we're done with Mexico, we'll move on to South America or maybe Africa.”

“Dream big, Mom. I'm with you all the way.” I picked up my plate, careful to balance the overloaded sandwich on it. Doodles was right at my heels, hoping for the spill I was trying to avoid. “Why don't you contact the board tomorrow and see what happens? The more I think about it, the more I think it's a good idea. I bet Dad is maintaining appearances. I'm sure he's come up with some cover story for why we're here. You could probably continue all of your volunteer work by phone and computer. Why didn't I think of that before?”

“You've had a lot on your mind, Mateo. We both have.” Mom moved to the fridge, replacing the sliced turkey and mustard I had left on the countertop.

“Stop, Mom, I'll get that. Just let me eat first. I'm starving.” She narrowed her eyes and scowled at me. “Okay, I mean I'm really, really hungry.”

Mom was a stickler for proper adjectives. She firmly believed that no one as privileged as we were should ever use words such as
starving
or
dying of thirst.
She had helped people who were truly both. She smiled at me, though, and continued to clean up my mess.

“I don't mind doing this for you. You get up before dawn, go running, attend school all day and football practice for two hours every afternoon, and then come home and do homework. I'm exhausted just thinking about your schedule. Are you sure you don't miss life with Señor Lopez?”

I groaned. “Absolutely not!” I may have only spent three hours a day with Señor Lopez, but every one of them was like enduring slow water torture. My teachers here were, for the most part, gifted educators. I enjoyed listening to them and engaging in discussions with my classmates. Life had settled into a routine the past few weeks that both started and ended with Blake, and although I was often tired and hungry from the double workouts, I wouldn't have had it any other way. Blake was making progress, too. She seemed more relaxed and less sad. She was speaking up in class and I had even coaxed her out of the hot sun and into the cafeteria at lunch. She refused to sit with anyone other than Callie McClure and me, but it was a start.

“Uh, Mom?” I asked, my mouth muffled by the food I was still chewing. She frowned at my bad manners. “I was thinking about maybe asking Blake over to watch a movie or something after the football game Friday night.”

Mom inhaled quickly, turning her sharp eyes to study my face.

“I know what you're thinking. I
am
being careful. I'm not sending any signals that I'm interested in anything other than being her friend. I'm careful to spend time with other people at school so she doesn't get the wrong idea. I'm just trying to be there for her, you know?” I wanted to listen to her and help her sort through things and make her laugh. My goal was to persuade her to slowly rejoin the world around her. It seemed to be working. I didn't think she had a clue that I was seriously attracted to her.

“Mateo, have you wondered why you're so committed to helping her? Is this a project that your compassionate heart just can't pass by, or is there more to it than that?” Mom watched me carefully, waiting for my answer.

I averted my face for a minute, throwing Doodles a piece of sandwich meat. How did I answer that? I knew I couldn't tell her that I thought about Blake all of the time, that when she looked sad, I felt sad. That when she laughed a genuine laugh, I grinned like an idiot. That I constantly fought the desire to hold her hand or touch her hair. That I had memorized the curve of her lips. That I didn't like when practice ended and I knew it would be twelve hours before I saw her again, even if I did spend seven or eight of those sleeping.

“Don't worry about my heart. It'll be fine.” Mom frowned. She didn't sound convinced, but she answered my original request with a cheerful voice.

“Well then, I think it would be a great idea to ask her over Friday. I would like to meet her, if that's okay. Oh, I forgot to show you something.” She moved over to the desk in the corner of the kitchen, removing something from the drawer.

“Please tell me this is a bad joke.” It was a button, a large obnoxious button, with my face on it. Ribbons were attached to the bottom of it, and glitter in the school's colors spelled out my name and football jersey number.

Mom laughed. No, she cackled. She was really enjoying this. “Not only do I get to see a son of mine play football, but what a bonus! I've tried for years to embarrass you. You're so laid back that almost nothing gets you. But finally, victory! Now I don't feel like such a failure as a mom.” She pinned the button on her shirt. “I think I'll wear it every day during football season. Who says it's just for games?”

“Fine, do what you like. You're the one who looks ridiculous. And thanks for letting Blake come over.”

“Mateo, you… ow!” She was removing the button and had stuck her finger. Served her right. She started again, her voice now serious.

“You may still have a year left of high school, but let's not fool ourselves. You're the man of this little family now. You may have just turned eighteen, but you might as well be thirty. You're mature beyond your years. I guess recent circumstances have stolen some of your childhood. I'm sorry for that, but I'm so proud of how you've risen to the occasion. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you don't have to ask my permission for things like that. I'm concerned, but I trust you completely. I'm well aware that tables have been turned lately, and you've been taking care of me. You can back off on that, a little at least. I'm doing better.” She patted the top of my head. “Thank you. But now I'm giving you permission to live your life without asking me for permission for everything. Don't get me wrong. I still want to know where you are for peace of mind's sake. But you need to just tell me, not ask me. And any of your friends are welcome here anytime.
Comprende?
”

“
Comprende.
Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Just be careful, Mateo. I don't think my heart can bear to see anyone else I love hurting any more than we already are. There's been enough of that for a lifetime.”

I carried what was left of my sandwich onto the back patio and wondered if I should call Blake and ask her about Friday or just wait until I saw her in the morning. I had her number programmed into my phone but had never used it. It was part of keeping careful boundaries in place. I really didn't want to draw her into my potentially dangerous life, but I couldn't seem to stay away either. I couldn't imagine exposing her to the possibility of any more pain. I would do everything I could to prevent that, even denying my own heart what it so clearly wanted. So far I was her school friend and running partner only. She seemed to need and want that as much as I needed and wanted her presence in my life. She stayed in close proximity to me at school but never asked for more. Weekends were torturous. There had only been three of them so far, and I had spent them obsessing over how she was doing. The thought of her sitting sad and lonely at Coach Joe's house had nearly given me nightmares.

I was fiddling with my phone, contemplating the right thing to do, when Doodles rose and began barking at the seemingly empty space behind the pool. Our house was built on a ridge, the negative edge pool the last thing seen before the downtown Austin skyline way in the distance. The property continued for another half-acre past the pool, but it was a steep, terraced cliff.

“What is it boy?” I asked the dog, amused at such a deep-throated bark coming from such a pile of curly fluff. “Do you hear a raccoon or a possum?” Maybe it was the
coyoté
we had heard three nights ago howling at the moon. That had given the security team a little excitement in their thus far boring assignment. I moved to grab Doodles' collar, prepared to pull him inside to safety. That was a fight I was sure he wouldn't win.

“Mateo.” My name was whispered from that empty space beyond the pool and my blood chilled. Who would go to such extremes to approach the house? Where was the security detail? How could I alert them quickly?