Page 5 of My Darling Mayhem

Maybe I could start with the bookstore. I could hang around and see what sort of men popped in or change my preferences on my online dating profile.

But fuck I didn’t want to do online dating again.

With a sigh, I turned into Mrs. Garza’s neighborhood.

Cruz was practically vibrating with excitement as he jumped off the steps, and I checked him out of preschool, sadly, for the last time. I hugged Mrs. Garza and took pictures with her and Cruz before leaving for the store.

“We have to drive over to the bigger store in Luxy, okay?” I looked at Cruz in the rearview mirror. He was staring off into space, ignoring me. Ten minutes passed; his excitement seemed to evaporate completely the longer we drove until he finally spoke up.

“Davon’s dad came to get him today. He gave me a high five.”

A swelling, familiar panic started to fill my stomach. Anytime Cruz brought up Davon’s dad, he got really sad, and it was almost impossible to cheer him up. Part of me hoped he’d just change the subject, but then he continued talking, and my heart took an invisible punch.

“How come my dad doesn’t come see me?”

I checked his expression in the mirror, hating how his little brow furrowed.

“Well…your dad, he’s…well, it’s complicated.”

Five years, and I still had no idea how to explain that his father had gone to prison. I had no idea that he had any ties to any gangs, much less would fulfill an order and take out a rival member in broad daylight. The memory of receiving that phone call and seeing it on the news had been one of the worst in my life. The positive pregnancy test came a week after he’d been arrested. Matthew had called and asked me to bail him out and wanted me to attend his hearing and testify that he was a peaceful man.

In response, I boxed everything he owned, gave it to a charity, and moved as far away as possible. I had written to him and told him about his son. Matt never wrote back. I sent a picture of Cruz a year later, asking again if he wanted to be involved, and he never wrote back. I only provided a post officebox for him to send mail to, and that address was in Luxy, the next town over. Still, no mail had ever arrived.

“Does he love me?”

“Very much…but he’s making some bad choices right now.”

Cruz waited, then asked another question that was like being hit in the chest with a piece of concrete. “Like Uncle Juan?”

My eyes nearly watered at the mention of my older brother. The last time I saw him, I was only sixteen years old…he was in college, attending Rake Forge University in North Carolina. His smile was muted, his dark brows drawn in tight as he glared at me. My mother found out who I had snuck out to see, who I had been riding around with, and called Juan to come talk some sense into me.

“You’re being an idiot. Do you want to die, is that it? You care so little for your life that you don’t care who takes it? Stop stressing Mama out. Stop acting like a fucking idiot and grow the fuck up.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. At how those words had wholly rearranged my soul. How my hero had made me feel so insignificant and stupid. Then, when I had started straightening out, I went back to school, stopped hanging out with the crowd I’d been with, and started trying…he’d gone and done exactly what I had.

But it was a thousand times worse because he stepped into a role he promised to never accept. He swore we’d be free of our father’s ties to the Cartel, and my big brother picked up those reins and ran with them, all for a pair of pretty blue eyes. He was a hypocrite.

He broke my heart, and I refused to stick around another second to watch as he burned my mother’s world down or his own. I couldn’t watch a repeat of what had happened with my father.

“Yes…just like Uncle Juan.”

The rest of the ride was silent, and I wished for just one second that I had one man…just one that I could introduce to my son that I knew was worthy of being in his life.

The small classroom was vibrant, with yellows, reds, and greens painted around the room. The back wall looked like a tree, with actual branches jutting from the wall where the teacher had nailed them. It was cute and fun. Cruz had a little laminated name tag taped to half the square table we were positioned at. Instead of desks, they had cubbies for all their things. Small red baskets containing basic supplies sat on each table.

“Thank you all for coming to our open house. I’m Bonnie Gerald, and I’ll be your child’s kindergarten teacher this year. I encourage all the kids to call me Mrs. G.” The woman with fiery red hair and fair skin scanned the room, making eye contact with the parents. There were nearly thirty of us squeezed in, most of us sitting in the tiny chairs that our asses barely fit in. I was in one with Cruz, sitting on my lap. The other half of our table was vacant, while the laminated name for another child sat, but whoever it was for hadn’t arrived yet.

“The children have all been paired up in groups of two, as you can see by the small table arrangements. I did this purposefully, as we will incorporate English and Spanish into our curriculum this year. Each table has at least one student proficient in one of the languages, and the two will rely on each other as teammates when they need help.”

Cruz barely knew Spanish, which was entirely my fault because when he finally started speaking at three, I was so happy that I just stuck to English. Being away from family and anyoneto speak Spanish with made me not speak it as often. It shouldn’t have surprised me that Mrs. G. assumed my son would be the one who spoke Spanish with our last name being Vasquez, but still…it bothered me that she hadn’t reached out to ask.

“Mommy, I don’t have a table friend. What if they don’t show up?” Cruz whispered in my ear.

I glanced over at the empty side of the table and saw the name spelled out: Kane.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Maybe he just couldn’t come to the open house.”

Cruz relaxed into my chest as we continued to listen to the teacher. Halfway through the policies and importance of kids practicing at home, the chair beside us slid out, and a flash of white had me turning my head.

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