Page 5 of Miguel
Camila wasted no time stalking over to them, picking up the folder and rifling through the few papers in there. Her brow furrowed as her eyes strayed to the peanut butter.
“You didn’t give him that without checking if he was allergic first, did you?”
My boots planted against the floor, pushing me to a standing position. “What?!” I barked. I hadn’t fucking thought of that. How had I not fucking thought of that? Shit, he’d nibbled at the sandwich earlier. Could just a small bite cause an allergic reaction? Fuck me. I rushed towards my bedroom where Zeke was currently sleeping, praying he was okay.
When I opened the door and stalked to the bed, he was on his side, clutching tightly at that ugly stuffed bunny. His breathing even, his face normal without any swelling to indicate an allergic reaction.
Relief slid from my lungs in a single breath, and I almost fell to the ground with the feeling that swept over me. It gripped me in a tight fist, crushing me beneath the weight of it. A choked sound came out of my throat, but thankfully the noise didn’t wake him up.
I took a moment to ground myself, to get my shit together and feel a semblance of control and find that level head I was known for in the club. How could such a small person make me lose all reason within a few moments? Once I felt like I could breathe again, I stood and skulked back to the kitchen.
“So, I found a checkup in this pile. Looks like his one year checkup, but there’s not much and I can’t see the letters very well.” Camila squinted at the wrinkled, water-damaged page. “I don’t think he’s allergic to anything. The bad news is, he’s not caught up on his vaccines. The bitch couldn’t even fucking do that right. You need to make an appointment with a pediatrician to get him checked and take him to the local health center to get vaxxed.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, feeling the crushing weight once again. Thank fuck for Camila or I never would have thought of it. I could have killed my own son with my stupidity and inexperience. “I’ll do that first thing tomorrow.”
“Zeke is five,” she continued. “He should be in school, Salvador. You need to enroll him.” When I stared at her blankly, she clarified, “Kinder.”
I didn’t know jack shit about that. I dropped out of fucking high school to work at a mechanic shop with Loco before he’d gotten arrested. A shop I’d been working at ever since.
Camila must have read the helplessness in my face because her features softened. “If anyone can be a good papá, it’s you, Salvador.”
My elbows pressed to the counter, and I buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, Cami.”
“Look, I know you probably feel overwhelmed right now, but you aren’t alone. You have your club and you know I’m not going to leave your pendejo ass alone.”
I chuckled and dropped my hands, rapping my knuckles against the counter. I knew she was trying to ease my own guilt and stress by being here. I knew I could count on her, but Camila had her own life. She had a job. She wasn’t going to be able to guide me through every little step. I had to get my shit together. For my own mental sanity, but most of all, for Zeke.
I had to be the father he deserved.
“Thanks, Cami.”
“He’s my nephew. Anyway, there’s a school not far from here. It’s supposed to be really good. A private school next to the church, so inscriptionsmightbe expensive…”
“Money isn’t an issue."
Cami nodded. She didn’t know what I did for a living. Not the illegalities, anyway, though I was sure she suspected my whole income didn’t come from the shop.
“I’ll put in a call tomorrow morning and get him enrolled within the week while you set up his doctor’s appointment.” She reached for my hand again in one last show of solidarity. “You know I’ll help you whenever I can. We’re Lopezes, after all.”
We were. Our history was bathed in tragedy and chaos and happiness, but it was something that made us… us. And now Zeke was a Lopez, too.
Which meant I would protect him with my life if I had to.
Chapter Three
Miguel
Itwasfastertoget Zeke into kinder than it was to get a doctor’s appointment in this fucking city.
Camila had come through, getting him enrolled that same week, while his general checkup was still weeks away. At least the health center had caught him up on his vaccines–after berating me for thirty fucking minutes as if I was to fucking blame. I’d resisted the urge of throwing the nurse the finger and swallowed back the words on the tip of my tongue.
“I didn’t even know he existed, lady!”
Zeke still hadn’t spoken a word to me and rarely acknowledged when I spoke to him. He spent his days in a daze, staring, observing, nibbling on food, and pointedly ignoring me.
Camila hoped that interacting with other children would help pull him out of his shell. I hoped for the same. I’d never seen a kid so quiet and distracted. When he did make noise it was only to wail and lash out, and nothing I said or did ever calmed him down. I hoped this would bring a good change for him.
I held tightly to his hand. The schoolwasnice. Camila hadn’t been lying about that. It sat next to the church smack in the middle of Tlaxcala City, a hidden little place nestled between stores and houses. A security guard let me in after checking my I.D. and making me sign in first. The inside of the school was an open space of bright colors and cartoon images on the walls.
