Chapter 6 - A Mother Runs Out of Excuses —
Beatriz went to the school alone.
The counselor, Ms. Duarte, placed a folder between them.
“These are incidents we contacted you about.”
“I saw some of them.”
“Your husband responded to most.”
Beatriz opened the first report.
Enzo had broken a classmate’s glasses after losing a game.
Ricardo had paid for new ones.
The second involved a classroom aide whose phone Enzo had knocked into a sink.
Ricardo had replaced it.
The third was an insult directed at a cafeteria worker.
There had been no damaged object to replace, so Ricardo had called it a disagreement.
Beatriz kept turning pages.
“What consequences did he have here?”
“Supervised breaks. Restorative meetings. We asked for a coordinated plan at home.”
“My husband said you were singling him out.”
Ms. Duarte folded her hands.
“Mrs. Almeida, your son isn’t beyond help. But he is learning that another person’s pain disappears when someone writes a check.”
Beatriz stared at the folder.
She wanted to say she had tried.
She had told Enzo to be kind. She had reminded him to say thank you. She had sent flowers after the cafeteria incident.
But each time Ricardo dismissed a complaint, she had eventually let the subject drop.
She had preferred peace in her house to discomfort at someone else’s.
“May I have copies?” she asked.
When she returned home, Enzo was playing a racing game.
She turned off the television.
“Hey!”
“We’re talking.”
“Dad said I could.”
“Your father isn’t here.”
“That doesn’t mean you can—”
“Enough.”
He stared at her.
She sat across from him.
“Did you push the soup?”
He looked away.
“Enzo.”
“She was taking forever.”
Beatriz felt her stomach tighten.
“So you pushed it.”
“I didn’t think she’d make that noise.”
The room seemed to tilt.
He wasn’t talking about the bowl breaking.
He was talking about Marina screaming.
“Did you understand that you hurt her?”
His eyes filled.
For a brief moment, Beatriz thought he was beginning to understand.
Then he said, “Are they going to take my game?”
She closed her eyes.
Upstairs, Ricardo’s phone rang on his desk.
Beatriz went to get it, then stopped at the open study door.
May you like
Her husband was inside, speaking into another phone.
“I don’t care what the original shows,” he said. “The version we release needs to end before he laughs.”
