The day of the trial~
"Is it true, Mateo?" a boy said as he put a spoonful of rice and peas in his mouth.
Mateo kept his head down and stirred the food in his tray.
"Mateo?" the boy pressed again. "My mommy says not to talk about your daddy because he's not here. Where did your daddy go, Mateo?"
Mateo didn't look up. He kept stirring and stirring as he watched the peas roll around the rice.
"I said," the boy leaned closer. "Is it true that your daddy is not here anymore, Mateo?"
Mateo's chest felt funny. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and yet, he was breathing perfectly well.
"He's… not here anymore," Mateo mumbled.
"But where is he?" the boy asked again. "My mommy won't tell me. Did he go to another country? My uncle went to Canada, maybe your uncle went there too."
"No," Mateo whispered. "He's in the sky."
The boy frowned. "Like on a plane?"
"No. He's with the stars."
The boy knitted his brows together. "That's dumb. People don't live on stars."
Mateo stood from his seat, grabbed his lunchbox and left the classroom.
He didn't want to see his sister, he wanted to cry and he knew if his sister saw him, she would also cry.
Mateo wasn't dumb, he knew what was happening even though his mother tried to protect him from it. He knew his father wasn't in the star, he knew people don't become stars when they die, they just die and decay.
His father was just gone.
Mateo walked down the hallway and his eyes stung. He went all the way to the back of the staircase where no one ever went. He curled up on the bottom step as he tucked his knees into his chest and stared blankly. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he was tired of looking at people's pitiful gazes, he was tired of hearing that it gets better. He didn't even want to see his mom because she had also lied, she had said that his father was watching over them. But Mateo knew the truth.
Damien Whitmore wasn't watching over anyone.
He sat there for a long time. Even after the bell rang for classes, he didn't move from his spot. He didn't care. He didn't want to read or color or count numbers.
"Mateo?"
A soft voice made him look up. Miss Helen, the teaching assistant stood at the top of the staircase. She had been searching for him since she noticed he wasn't in class.
She didn't ask him to come up, instead, she sat at the top of the stairs and smiled at him. After a while, she said, "Your mom is on her way, sweetheart."
Mateo dropped his gaze. "Am I in trouble?"
"No, honey. You're really brave and really kind."
He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeves. "People don't turn into stars."
There was a pause.
"No, they don't," Miss Helen finally said. "But sometimes, when we're sad, it helps to look up and think of our loved ones."
Mateo thought about that. "It won't bring my daddy back."
Silence ensued between them and after a while Mateo spoke again.
"I can't cry. My sister looks up to me."
Miss Helen's heart broke for the poor boy. He was only six and he already had someone he needed to be strong for. Her face softened and she smiled. She wanted to move the boy closer and hug him, tell him that it's okay for him to cry. He was still only a child.
"You're a good big brother," she said. "But it's okay for you to cry."
Mateo looked down at his shoes. "But if I cry, she'll cry too. And I don't want Isla to cry."
"That's very brave of you," Miss Helen replied. "But you don't have to carry it all alone, Mateo. You have us. You have your mom."
Mateo's throat tightened. "Mommy hates me. I know it."
"Oh, Mateo…"
"She doesn't say it," he whispered. "But I know she does."
Miss Helen came down slowly. "Why would you think that, sweetheart?"
Mateo's lips quivered. "It was me. I was being a bad boy. Daddy had asked me to wait for it but I said no. I wanted the ice skates that night and I forced daddy to go get them. He went and he never came back. It's all because of me."
She sat beside him and pulled him in for a hug. "Mateo, your daddy loved you. He went out to get your ice skates because he loved you, he only wanted to see you happy. That's what daddies do. He didn't leave because of you."
"But he wouldn't have gone if I didn't ask," Mateo's voice cracked. "I should never have said anything, I should have waited, I…"
"Stop," Miss Helen said gently. "None of this is your fault."
Tears slipped down his cheeks. "Mommy is in pain. I hear her cry in the middle of the night. Grandma wants to take us away from her."
Miss Helen tightened her hold around him. "Nobody will take you away. Your mommy won't let them take you away."
Mateo's tears kept falling. "If I didn't want those skates, all these would not be happening. I'm a bad boy."
Miss Helen closed her eyes for a moment. "Your mommy loves you, Mateo. I promise."
"Mateo?"
The voice was soft, it cracked a bit, almost as if it was afraid to echo. Mateo looked in the direction of the voice to be met face to face with his mother. Her eyes were red from crying. She had just come back from the courtroom, happy to share the news with her children, only to be met with this.
Mateo froze.
"I've been looking for you, sweetie," she said as she knelt down and opened her arms. "Come here."
"I'm sorry," he blurted out as his voice broke. "It's all my fault. I asked for…"
"Mateo Whitmore!" her voice cracked. "Come to mommy."
Mateo flinched.
"Don't you ever say that again. Never."
Mateo's tears fell as he ran up the stairs to embrace his mother. He sobbed into her shirt and gripped onto it so tightly that one would think Lucy would disappear if he let go.
Lucy slowly rocked him. "You didn't do anything wrong. He loved you so much. All he ever talked about was how proud he was of you. That day, he excitedly left because he wanted to see you smile. It's not your fault, Mateo."
Mateo cried harder.
"I know I've not been around these past few days," Lucy whispered. "But I'm trying, and I love you so, so much. It's not your fault we lost him. You're the reason I get up in the morning, Mateo. Both you and Isla."
He hiccupped and continued to sob.
"Mommy?" he whimpered.
"Yes, baby?"
"Do you think daddy is still proud of me?"
"Of course, he is."
"He's never coming back, is he?"
"No," she whispered. "He's not."