by A. M. Geever
Maria-Elena nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “You look lost, my friend.”
He took a sip of his own wine to give himself another few seconds. “Violet’s brother…”
When he didn’t continue, she said, “Silas?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking a shaky breath, tears suddenly filling his eyes. “We couldn’t… I couldn’t even spare him…”
She held his hand tight between hers. “I’m so sorry. You must have loved him very much.”
Mario nodded, unable to speak, the tears falling fast and thick. He drained his wineglass and refilled it. When he felt more composed, he continued, even though he was ashamed. But if anyone would understand, could hold him accountable, it was Maria-Elena.
“I slapped Violet,” he said, looking to his friend, then quickly away. “I couldn’t… after Silas. Not being able to do anything but watch them.” He took a shuddering breath, anguish pumping from his thumping heart. “The Tesla’s batteries finally died. She was having a tantrum, and I couldn’t get her to settle down. It was too loud. And then I was shouting at her to shut the fuck up, just like my dad, and I slapped her.”
“Oh, Mario,” Maria-Elena said.
“She just looked up at me, frightened. And I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I…lost it,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Oh, Mario,” she said, sounding like her own heart was breaking. “I am so sorry.”
“I swore I’d never hit my children. All I ever wanted was to not be like my dad, but I abandoned my kids, and I couldn’t save Silas, or Tadpole. I hit Violet, and—”
“Stop it, mi amor,” Maria-Elena said gently. “You are not like your father. You’re not. You would never beat anyone, especially a child, like he did your mother, and you and Dominic. I’m not saying you didn’t mess up, but you’re not your father, Mario. You’re a better man than he ever was.”
“But I hit her… I’m afraid I’ll lose her, too,” he whispered miserably.
Maria-Elena shook her head. “Violet loves you. I could see it. Whatever the harm, it’s not irreparable.”
Coming from her, the words had weight, held comfort, because she knew. She’d seen the bruises and split lips, the black eyes and stitches, after his father’s drunken rampages. She’d heard the cutting remarks when his father was sober, the constant, determined campaign to undermine Mario’s confidence, and his mother’s and brother’s as well. The door at the Suárez house had always been open to Mario and Dominic, and their mother, too. Without judgment or demands that their mother must find the courage to do something she wasn’t capable of doing. His dad had finally gotten sober, become less toxic, after Mario left for college, but by then it was too late. He’d wanted nothing to do with him, and he made sure the son of a bitch knew it.
Mario took a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush of air. “You’re a good friend, Maria-Elena.”
She smiled. “So are you. And such a wonderful surprise, to see you again after all this time.”
“It really is,” he agreed, noticing the differences that had come with age: fine lines from laughter and tears, a few strands of gray in her raven hair, but the things that mattered hadn’t changed one bit.
She took a sip of her wine, then said, “You mentioned Tadpole… The baby you lost?”
Mario nodded. “Yeah. Our nickname for him.”
“And you and his mother… There’s really no hope of working it out?”
“If there is, I can’t see it,” he said. “We let it divide us. I mean, she hated me when she thought I betrayed everyone, but that was…”
“Understandable?” Maria-Elena supplied with a grin.
“Yeah,” he said, amused for a moment. “But this… She just put up this wall, and I pushed too hard and we fought. I said some really terrible things to her.”
“You know what Mama would say? Where there’s life, there’s hope. You’re both still alive, and we can’t know what God’s plan is for us, but He has one.”
Mario leaned back in his chair. “I think God’s plans are pretty shit, quite frankly, but it’s so good to see you.”
“I know,” she said, the warmth in her voice making it seem like she had said much more. “You need to go to bed, my friend. You’re worn out.”
He grabbed the corner of the table when he stood, because the room felt more spinny than he’d anticipated.
“You are so drunk,” she said, laughing.
“It’s a good thing you’re walking me to my room.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve gotten your drunk ass home. I pray it won’t be the last.”
Mario walked alongside Maria-Elena through the vineyard. Violet’s hand in his felt comforting, and he was cheered when she skipped ahead a few times to peer under the vines to catch a glimpse of the wildlife that scampered through the vineyard, or to eat some grapes. She never left his side for long, though, as if she needed to reassure herself that he was still there. His and Maria-Elena’s adult conversation was boring, as she had told them several times—loudly—so they had turned back, cutting their walk short.
“You look better than when you arrived,” Maria-Elena said as they approached the castle.
They were let through the gate by the farmhouse into the large interior courtyard. A group of children filed in the farmhouse’s front door under the watchful eye of an older woman.
“That’s Evelyn,” Maria-Elena said, giving the woman a wave. “She’s the teacher for the school.”
Mario waved, too. He’d tried to take Violet a few days ago, just so she could be with the other children. He’d even offered to stay with her, but she’d flat-out refused. She had even turned down Skye’s offer to go with her, which was uncharacteristic. Usually she was amenable to anything Skye suggested. This was a good place, the kind of place where Violet should be, a place where she’d be safe.
“I want to see Mister Bun Bun,” Violet said.
Mario looked down at her. “I’m hungry. I want to eat lunch.”
Violet’s face screwed into a frown. Then she said, “Mawree, Mister Bun Bun needs lunch, too. We should see him first.”
“Okay,” Mario said, knowing she had outmaneuvered him. He said to Maria-Elena, “If you can get us to the kitchen to get some greens for him, I think I can find the way back to our rooms.”
“This way,” she answered. Then she said to Violet, “We can’t have a starving rabbit.”
An hour later, Mister Bun Bun had been fed and Violet was crashed out and napping. She’d been napping a lot since Silas had died. So have I, Mario thought, thinking about how he’d spent his time over the past six days at the Castello. He knew grief was exhausting, but still, it surprised him just how much.
After three false starts, he finally managed to find the smaller courtyard. Usually, he had a good sense of direction, but the interior of the castle always seemed to turn him around. The courtyard had a loggia on three sides—a covered walkway with graceful arches and a sloping roof of terra-cotta tiles—that its residents called The Loggia. The chapel’s edifice made the courtyard’s fourth ‘wall,’ and was as peaceful a space as the name implied. Round cafe tables were arranged in the courtyard along the loggia and scattered across its center, with faded umbrellas to block the sun. It was just one of the many beautiful places where one could spend their time when not working. As guests, they were loafing most of the time—and they’d needed it. Even though it was wonderful to spend time with Maria-Elena, and make new connections with others, Mario was beginning to get antsy. They needed to get on the road again—to get home. If he’d no obligations, he could be tempted to stay. It was refreshing to again be somewhere where people cooperated so that everyone prospered. But even though the Council seemed hell-bent on making sure San Jose was an amoral cesspool of pain and inequity, it was still home.
A waving arm caught his attention. Skye and Doug were sitting at a table along the wall just ahead, the remains of their lunch in front of them. He caught a flash of blond ha
ir leaving the courtyard on the far side—Tessa, with a guy she’d been spending a lot of time with. Mario’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d wanted to eat an hour ago. Instead, he’d supervised Mister Bun Bun’s lunch and waited until Violet fell asleep. Remembering how delighted Violet had been to feed and pet him made him smile.
“Hey,” Mario said, pulling over a chair from the empty table beside them. He pointed at the half of Doug’s sandwich still on his plate. “Are you going to eat that? I’m starving.”
Doug pushed his plate to Mario. “Have at it, it’s great. I think Mary has decided to fatten me up. She always gives me too much food.”
“I think she likes you,” Skye teased, taking Doug’s hand. “She gives you more food than me every time.”
Doug looked at Skye, the affection in his soft smile lighting his face and reflecting hers. Loneliness swelled in Mario’s chest. He was happy that Doug had found someone who made him so happy that he was willing to upend his life to be with her, and who was obviously crazy about him. But the way they looked at one another, the easy physical affection that they showered upon the other, made Mario lonelier than he thought it was possible to be. Miranda had looked at him like that once, with a softness that made her eyes glow. Now, it felt like a dream. She was gone from his life as completely as she’d once filled it.
He shook off the melancholy. The food, locally and organically grown, was delicious. Now such an emphasis was of necessity, rather than as a part of California’s boutique food culture: back-to-the-land, slow food, sustainable, plant-based…take your pick. Maria-Elena had told him all about the lean early years as the small communities among several wineries in the area struggled to survive, but they had made it, even thrived.
“It saves me a trip to the kitchen,” Mario said between bites of ham and cheese on soft, crusty bread. “She can try to fatten him up as much as she wants as far as I’m concerned.”
“Where’s your shadow?” Skye asked.
“Napping,” Mario said.
“Ah,” Skye said. “How’s she doing?”
Mario shrugged. “Hard to know. As okay as she can be, considering.”
Skye reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.
“So,” Doug said. “What do you guys want to do? We’ll need to talk again when Tessa’s here, but how long do you want to stay?”
Mario was acutely aware that they were both looking at him. How long did he want to stay was the real question. He finished chewing the last bite of the sandwich.
“We should get going again in the next few days, I think.” Just say it, he told to himself. His heartbeat sped up, and his hands felt clammy. He took a deep breath. “I’m going to leave Violet here, with Maria-Elena and Candy, until I can come back for her.”
For a beat, no reaction from either of them, apart from blank stares.
“You’re not serious,” Doug said.
“Mario,” Skye said softly. “That’s…a terrible idea. We—you’re—all she has. We can’t just leave her, especially now.”
“It’s not ‘just leaving’ her,” Mario said. “I’ll come back for her once things are settled at home. It’s just—”
He had rehearsed this conversation so many times, but now that it was happening, he felt tongue-tied and defensive.
“It’s too dangerous,” he finally said. “And here…it’s not. It’s a castle, for crying out loud. There could be a siege and they’d be okay with all the stores of food they have. They can keep her safe, and I—we—can’t.” He stopped, a sob threatening to push its way up his throat. His throat constricted, making it hard to get the words out. “I can’t lose her, too.”
Doug’s brow furrowed. Gently, he said, “Do you really think it’ll be good for her to be abandoned by the only people she knows and trusts? And loves, for that matter.”
Anger flared in Mario’s chest. “I’m not abandoning her,” he said, with more heat than he’d intended. “I’m not. I just… There’s a school here.”
“That she won’t set foot in,” Doug said.
“She’ll get over that,” Mario countered. Doug laughed softly, derisive and disbelieving, but Mario persisted. “People get along here. They work together, unlike home.”
“We got along just fine at SCU,” Doug said.
Mario tried again. “I trust Maria-Elena to keep her safe and happy and know that she’s loved.”
“Mario,” Doug said, beginning to sound impatient.
Skye put her hand on Doug’s arm, then said, “What’s right for you isn’t the same as what’s right for Violet. We know it’s dangerous to bring her with us, but she’s just lost her brother, and she's attached to you more than the rest of us. I know you’re devastated about Silas, we all are, but this is only going to make things worse for Violet.”
Mario flinched at Skye’s words. He hadn’t thought about it that way, and of course Skye was right. He recognized that immediately.
“I can’t do it and bring Violet along,” he said, feeling weak when tears filled his eyes. “I can’t. And I have to go home to protect my family. I can’t do it and maybe lose her, too.”
Mario averted his gaze, wiping the tears away. If he could just not love her, then he could rationalize bringing Violet with them, but he did. He loved that stubborn frown when she didn’t get her way, and her whole-body laugh, and those soft, brown eyes. He loved the flash of her white teeth against her mahogany skin, and how her curled hair was beginning to look like a free-form halo as it grew in. He loved how her features softened while she slept, when the resemblance to Silas was strongest. He loved her as much as any of his other children. He couldn’t bear to lose her.
Skye said, “It’s not going to be less dangerous if you come back for her later.”
“Stay here,” Doug said urgently. “Stay here with Violet, until you are ready. We’ll go on ahead.”
Mario raised his head, shaking it no. “But my kids—”
“Don’t make this about choosing one kid over another,” Doug said forcefully. “You said you wanted to raise Silas and Violet, make them part of your family. This kid needs you the most right now—that’s all. We’ll go on ahead and get the rest of them.”
“I can’t do that, Doug. You know I can’t.”
“I know you won’t,” Doug snapped, his patience finally hitting its breaking point. “If you want to leave Violet behind, you fucking tell her.”
Doug stood up abruptly and stalked away. His anger took Mario aback. It was so unlike him. Mario hadn’t expected the conversation to be easy, but he hadn’t anticipated that Doug would react like this. He looked to Skye, whose troubled face looked pensive.
“I think this is a mistake, Mario,” she said. “Just think about it, okay?”
“That’s all I’ve done since we got here,” he said.
Violet hadn’t talked to him the past few days. When he came into the room, her little face became a thunderhead, daggers of lightning flashing from her eyes before she stomped away. Mario supposed he deserved it. His friends, even Maria-Elena, thought he was making a mistake, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t fail to protect one more child he’d come to love—he just couldn’t—even if it meant leaving her behind for a little while.
It’s for her own safety, he told himself for the millionth time. He repeated it like a mantra, over and over, because it was starting to not feel that way. He felt like he was dying inside, like he was abandoning her, even though he told himself that he wasn’t. Because he would come back for her, he would. But right now he had to think of her safety.
He sighed, hoisting his pack onto his back. He felt depleted as he navigated the corridors down to the large courtyard, as if every molecule of energy had been sucked from his body. He was finally able to find his way around the Castello without getting lost more than once, and was sorry to leave. The Castello had been a safe harbor when he’d needed one, and seeing Maria-Elena again was like the old hymn promised: a balm, to heal the sin sick
soul. Her laughter and friendship and love had helped blunt the sharpest edge of his grief enough that he could go on. But nothing would change the fact that they should be leaving with Silas and Violet, and were not.
At the pass-through that led from The Loggia to the larger courtyard, Doug, Skye, and Tessa were saying their farewells. Mario took a deep breath, then set out to join the others. Bob saw him first and greeted him with a smile.
“I’m sorry to see you go, Mario,” Bob said, pumping his hand. “Safe travels.”
“Me, too,” Mario said. “But I’ll be back for Violet as soon as I can.”
“Of course,” Bob said.
Maria-Elena cocked her head to the side and smiled at him. “It’s been so wonderful to see you again.”
She wrapped him in an embrace that felt fierce, which was how he thought of her. She had always loved fiercely, defended fiercely, had fun in a way that she caught between her teeth. Zombies hadn’t changed that, even though she’d had her share of sorrow.
“Are you sure about this?” she whispered in his ear. He nodded, unable to speak. She let go of him and held him at arm’s length. “I’ll take good care of her. Hurry back.”
“I will,” he said, relieved to see only love, and not judgment, in her eyes. “Stay safe.”
Mario dropped to a crouch. Violet hovered behind Maria-Elena, half-hidden by the first column of the loggia. Maria-Elena leaned over and whispered in Violet’s ear. A moment later, Violet stepped out from behind her. She held her arms straight and stiff at her sides and frowned at Mario.
“Hey, Violittle,” he said, his throat abruptly tight. “I know you’re mad at me, and that’s okay. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
Violet’s lower lip began to wobble, and Mario felt his own do the same. He swiped at his damp eyes.