Song: Never Say Never
By: The Fray
Dedicated to: My Papa. He sacrificed so much for us and I will forever be grateful. You are one of the reasons I want to be successful in this life. Forever your Kaby.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ
Hello, everyone. I wanted to come on here and talk about some of the topics this chapter will be focusing on. When writing this chapter I spent a lot of time distracting myself from writing a certain scene you will later read. There will be a conversation involving the topics of drug addiction, alcohol addiction, parental absence, divorce, and physical abuse. While writing this specific conversation, I did get emotional and I couldn't write for a couple of days afterward.
I am here to tell you that your mental health matters. If you do not feel comfortable reading about any of the topics I have listed above, please...please skip this chapter. Your mental health is so much more important and I do not want you to read something that will trigger you.
You matter and so does your mental health.
I love you all, you beautiful humans and I am here for ANYONE if they need to talk. My Instagram DMs are ALWAYS open.
Thank you for reading and for those who choose to continue to read, you've been advised. Read at your discretion.
"Malia, stop!"
"Fuck off, asshole!"
I chase after her, everyone turning their heads towards us.
If only they fucking knew why she was running away from me.
I catch up to her and grab ahold of her hand. She whips around to face me and snaps her hand back to her side.
"I hate you." She crosses her arms over her chest and I push my hair back, "Stop being a brat."
"You said my eyebrows looked like angry bird eyebrows!"
I try to suppress my laughter, failing miserably.
"I–" I rub my cheeks to keep myself from laughing, "I was joking," I finally manage to say.
"You're still laughing!" She scoffs and I clear my throat, "Okay, I'm sorry."
"I was thirteen when my eyebrows looked like that. I'm surprised you didn't notice." She rolls her eyes at me.
"Oh, I noticed...I kept thinking how they looked like angry bird eyebrows." I burst out laughing and she starts to lightly smack me.
"Okay, okay fine. I'm done." I grab her wrist and pull her against me.
She shoves a finger to my chest and angrily looks up at me, "You're on probation again."
Not this shit again.
Whenever Malia gets mad at me she dramatically puts me on probation. Which means no sex for a couple of days or even touching her.
Yeah, my girlfriend is a top-tier brat.
And I fucking love it.
It only makes things fun for us because I get to tease her until she breaks. She usually folds on the second day.
We'll see how long she lasts this time.
"Okay, how long am I on probation for this time?"
She thinks for a bit and then pokes my nose, "A month."
"Okay, so birthday sex is out of the question." I shrugged and watched as she widened her eyes, "Okay, only two weeks."
A smirk forms on my lips, "That's what I thought."
She rolls her eyes and before she can say anything else, Mark comes up behind her.
"See now that's another reason I won't ever be in a relationship. The no-sex probation. Sorry, but I like sex." He shrugs with a smile and Malia snorts, "Yeah, we know."
"Like? More like obsessed." Josie pops up next to him and he sticks his tongue out at her.
"What's wrong with sex?" I ask and Josie crosses her arms over her chest, "So much. People get attached way too easily and it only messes things up."
"That's not true." Malia defends and Josie snorts, "Coming from the girl who made it strictly sex in the beginning and now is dating the man."
A smile forms on my face because "the man" is me.
The bell rings and Malia smacks my chest, "Alright, since today is come for Malia day...I'll be going to class now."
She gives me a quick kiss on the lips before leaving to class.
"What did she mean by that?" Mark raises an eyebrow and I laugh.
"Let's just say she showed me a photo of her middle school self."
A smirk forms on his lips and he asks, "Her eyebrows?"
I nod my head and we both burst out laughing.
Suddenly Josie grabs us by our arms and pulls us along with her.
"You guys are stupid. Let's go before Mrs. James marks us down for being late."
I throw my backpack onto my bed along with my body.
It feels so good to be in bed after a long day at school.
Malia is hanging out with Vikki and Lilybeth today. They're out eating and probably are going to the lake later for some sister time.
Maybe I can finally start reading this new book I bought a few weeks ago at Target.
I get up to grab it but before I can, someone knocks on my door.
At first, I think it's Angelina.
"Yes, Lenny, you can use my laptop," I said grabbing the book and not looking at who was opening the door.
But when I do turn to look at them, I feel my heart drop.
It's Papa.
"Hey, you're home." He gives me a small smile and I stand there frozen.
The man standing in front of me looks different. He shaved his facial hair and now has a buzzcut. The new clothes he's wearing show how skinny he got from the last time I truly saw him. He looks his age now.
"I didn't know you were here." I manage to say despite my anxiety going off the roof at this moment.
"I got here this morning. After you left for school."
"Oh."
I can feel my heart rapidly beat against my chest as he stares at me with the same brown eyes we share.
"Mauricio..." He steps towards me but I step back.
The look of hurt on his face forms a lump in my throat.
He breathes out an okay and encourages himself to finally say what he came here to say.
"Your mom and me are divorcing."
I feel the tears form in my eyes and try to blink them away.
Who fucking knew those words I so desperately wanted to hear my whole life can break me.
"She and I decided it was time. It's for the best for you kids and us. Especially your mom. She deserves so much better than what I put her through. You kids too. I'm done ruining your lives. She deserves a husband who isn't a lousy drunk and you kids deserve a father who you don't have to worry about being dead one day from liver cancer or alcohol poisoning."
Papa's eyes have turned red and small tears have fallen from his eyes.
"So, what? You're leaving?"
He nods his head and sniffs, "Yes. I'm going to rehab. I've been staying at an old friend's house these past weeks. He was a drug addict and has been sober for ten years now. We were friends in high school and met by associating ourselves with the same drug dealer. He's sponsoring me, helping me through my addiction. I sold the bar to some rich guy who wanted to tear it down for his company and everything I got from him, I put into a savings account for you. For college. I'm sorry that I even took it away in the first place."
My cheeks are wet with tears and I didn't even notice how hard I was clenching my fists until now. It almost hurts when I stretch my hands out.
"Why now?" I ask, wondering why couldn't he have done this before all the trauma he's caused.
"I realized after the last time we saw each other that I needed to change. I saw your face when you had to pick me up again from the bar. I couldn't get that look you gave me off my mind, Mauricio. You were looking at me the same way I would look at your Grandpa. Like you hated me...like you hated who I was. And I knew then something had to change. It's been some very hard weeks but I'm committed to getting sober. I want to be a better man and father to you."
I finally swallow down the lump in my throat and take a deep breath.
"I just want you to know that I'm sorry for everything. What you had to endure from my addiction these past eight years is unfair and cruel. You are my son, not my caretaker. I should have been there for you and fought harder to become sober sooner. I know right now you won't be able to forgive me but I do hope one day you will. Because I love you." He breaks into a sob and so do I.
I have to hold my breath to stop myself.
"I want to have somewhat of the relationship we had before I chose the wrong path. Maybe one day we can go to a soccer game like the old days and just spend time. You kids are everything to me, son. And I want to be the father your kids can one day be proud of, not ashamed of. I love you so much and I want you to know that."
That was it.
That's all it took for me to run into his arms.
I hug him so tightly I'm almost afraid I'll break his fragile body.
"Te amo mucho, Papa. And I want you to get better so I can forgive you too." I sob into his shoulder as he holds me as tight as his body can hold.
"Ay, Miguel, Reyes don't cry." He jokes and we break into a laugh.
Grandpa used to say that whenever I'd cry when I was little.
I pull away from him slightly and smile.
The little boy in me finally enters a door where he can heal from the past.
This is only the beginning of many healing stages.
"There's also one more thing I need to talk about with you. But let's sit down." He guides me with his hand on my shoulder to my bed, sitting us down on it.
"Before I tell you this just know it is not to ruin the wonderful memories you have of your grandpa. This is my story and why I turned to alcohol and even drugs in the past. I want you to at least know what happened. My friend who's sponsoring me said it was best I told you and your mom the whole story."
The nervous look on his face brings back my anxiety.
What is he going to say that will change how I feel about Grandpa?
Grandpa tried to help him. He paid for his rehab multiple times and loved Papa. I know he did.
"When I was younger discipline isn't what it is nowadays. As we know some families used physical altercations to discipline. Your Grandma was completely against it and wanted me to grow up with better solutions when it came to discipline. I wasn't much of a troublemaker at home but I was at school. I had some friends who one can say were bad influences but I'm sure we all befriend people at some point in our lives who are bad influences. One day when I was thirteen I was caught shoplifting a game from a store, cops were called and it was this whole mess. And your grandpa had to come get me. The whole way home he was quiet and the only thing he said to me was that he wasn't going to tell my mom, your grandma."
Why do I have such a bad feeling about all this?
I hear the way his voice shakes and hesitates. As if he's scared to tell me.
"Me, being scared of disappointing your grandma was happy he wasn't going to tell her. But when we got home..." He stops suddenly and his jaw clenches.
It scares me and a pit in my stomach forms.
"Your grandma was visiting her sister at the time and wasn't going to be home until the weekend. Your grandpa was still quiet when we got to the house and when he finally spoke, it was to tell me to go inside. So, I did. I went inside while he left. He drove off and I didn't know where he drove off to. I went to bed and hoped your grandpa would get over it by the morning. But that night––he came into my room and woke me up. He dragged me out of the bed by the arm and threw me against the wall. It was dark and I had just woken up so I was confused and scared. I had yelled at him, asking what was his problem. It only got him more aggressive and that's when he...when he struck me and told me if I ever pulled some dumb shit like that again, he was going to do much worst."
Throw-up threatens to come out, hearing everything he's saying...it sends fucking shivers to my skin.
"I went to school the next day with a bruise on my cheekbone. People thought it was from the supposed fight I had with the police officers when I got caught. And when my grandma found out about what happened from our neighbors, I told her that I fell while running from the officers. Now, all she did was take away my PS at the time. As for your grandpa, he could never meet my eyes. It was as if he was not ashamed of what he did...but ashamed of what I did. The news heard about it and published it in some gossip articles. He didn't like that. Your grandpa never physically touched me again after that day. At least until he heard I got kicked off the soccer team. I became a hothead during a game and caused a kid to fracture his knee. That kid is my sponsor, by the way."
He lightly chuckles but I can't even muster a fucking smile.
"So, when he heard about it, he found it best that I also get a bone of mine broken too. That night he grabbed me by the wrist and snapped it. When your grandma heard my screams and asked what had happened, your grandpa told her I had fallen. I think she almost didn't believe him but when your grandpa put me on the spot...I told her I had fallen. After that day, it started. Your grandpa would sometimes wait for me till I came home from school and it started with punches then turned to kicking and finally to broken bones. Your grandma thought I was just a clumsy kid because that's what we made her think. Grandpa would make up some story about how I fell down the stairs or slipped in the shower. He even said once that some kids jumped me. Now that one was believable considering the cracked ribs couldn't have come from some dumb soccer team she thought I was still playing for. When I was sixteen I met this drug dealer who lived a couple of houses away from here. He supplied me with these strong pain pills and the more I got hurt...the more I took. In this case, I got addicted and your grandma one day found those pills under my pillow. She told Grandpa about it and then sent me away during the summer to a rehab facility."
"When I came back Grandpa acted so happy to see me but I was so angry at him for what he had done that I retaliated. I wasn't going back to the whole drug scene because it seriously scared me but that's when I started drinking. Your grandparents were never big drinkers so they never noticed when bottles were gone or at least half full. I'd go to parties and get wasted. At some point, it became a constant thing that I became codependent on it. I would skip school to drink with friends I met at the parties, not come home for days, or just stay in bed all day hungover. Your grandma was worried and grandpa hated it when I upset her. So, one day he waited for me to come home and I was drunk off my ass. The one time I decided to come home was the day he was waiting for me. The minute I walked through the door, he beat me. I woke up the next morning in bed with a broken nose and bruised ribs. I couldn't stop throwing up that day."
"I didn't stop though. So, every time I came home drunk...he was always there. I was always too weak from the hangovers and alcohol poisoning to stop him or fight back. I did a few times though, and got some good hits too. And this went on until my senior year. Your grandma started guitar lessons for kids and was always home. That's when I met your mom. She was one of your grandma's students and even though I knew she deserved someone who wasn't some alcoholic...I couldn't help but fall in love with her. We dated...fought a lot because she hated that I was drunk all the time and then she got pregnant right after we graduated."
"And when I told your grandpa, he admittedly sent me to rehab. When he dropped me off he told me that I better stick to my sobriety this time or he'll make sure I'll never meet my kid. Your mom was pregnant and alone...for months. Thankfully, your grandma was there for her after her family kicked her out but I knew she was scared that I wasn't there. So, when I got back, she and I agreed to work on things and we did. Everything was perfect. I finally moved out and barely saw your grandpa. It was the first time in years I felt so happy. You were born and I was in love."
I'm clenching the bed sheets, tears streaming down my face, and I swear the inside of my cheek is bleeding from how hard I've been biting it.
My grandpa...the grandpa who was sweet to me and cared for me...abused my papa for years.
"Why? Why was he like that? I never can recall a time he'd ever put his hands on me. The Grandpa I knew would have never hit me."
"I don't know, Mauricio. Maybe it was the way his parents raised him or the built of anger he had within himself. Or maybe he was angry at himself for getting your grandma pregnant so soon. Your grandma being pregnant so soon into his dream career ruined everything for him. He had to leave his hometown and come here to America...he had to quit soccer to help my mom take care of me. Your grandpa was a very prideful man, Mauricio. I think all the times I disappointed him made him angrier. I never asked him why. I didn't want to know. There was no excuse for what he did."
"Did grandma ever find out? Or mom?" I sniff out and he shakes his head no, "Your grandma never found out and I never told your mom. I wanted to move on from that part of my life. I wanted to finally be happy and I knew by keeping to myself what he did, it would give me that. And as for your grandpa never laying a hand on you, I don't think he'd ever do that even if he got angry with you. The grandpa you got was different from the dad I got. He loved you so much and would have never done anything to hurt you. You were his pride and joy. The son he wished he had. Even though I did tell him if he ever laid a hand on you, I would take us away somewhere he'd never find us and he'll never see you again. As so, he changed. Like I said, you were everything to him."
"So, that's why I don't want you to hate your grandpa, Mauricio. Regardless, of what he did to me, he was a good grandpa to you. He loved you so much. I promise you that the grandpa you got was the Miguel Reyes I knew before everything happened. That's why you were also named by him. Because no matter how much I hated him...I knew he would love you unconditionally. You come from a strong line of Reyes men and I wanted you to be proud of that."
We take a few minutes of silence.
I take everything in and try to keep the wonderful memories I had with my grandpa.
Then something hits me.
"Wait, so why did you relapse when he died?"
You would think he'd be happy but instead, he spiraled.
Papa takes a deep breath before speaking, "I was angry. Angry that he died and so much left this earth without an apology. Because no matter how badly I wanted to move on, Mauricio, I wanted him so badly to apologize and tell me that he was proud of me. He never once told me that regardless of the years I was sober or how good of a father I was being at the time. I wanted his approval so bad even then, so when he died I broke. I let my anger take control of me and broke my sobriety. It took me a long time to get over his death because of all the pain and trauma he caused. But I'm tired. I want to move on and I want to focus on myself and my family. He's gone and I hope he regrets what he did to me. But I can't live my life angry at him anymore. I want to be happy."
I break into another sob and go into arms.
"Promise me, you'll try, please."
"I promise, son. I love you and I promise."
Hector: Party TN
Hector: My Place
Hector: Stop by, man
I shouldn't be here.
My fucking dad just told me he's going to rehab and I'm at a fucking party where everyone is drinking.
He left two hours ago for the rehab center.
Angelina kept screaming at him not to go and Reuben stood quietly in the corner sobbing while we watched Papa leave.
I could still picture their faces when he left.
Mama walked him outside and they talked for a bit before she came back inside. She hugged us all and we cried.
"It's for the best, mijos." She told us and gave each of us a kiss on the head.
Mama had to carry Angelina to bed, her crying being non-stop.
Reuben locked himself in his room while I stood in the living room staring at the front door.
I thought of going to Malia's but I didn't want to bother her while she was having a good time with her sisters.
And that's when I got Hector's texts.
Not a second later, I drove here on my motorcycle and now I'm outside the house.
I should fucking go home.
I put my phone away in my pocket and start heading back to my motorcycle.
But that's when Papa's words flash in my head.
Threw me against the wall
I close my eyes and flinch at the sound of his voice in my head.
That night he grabbed me by the wrist and snapped it
I swiftly turn around and start heading into the house.
He waited for me to come home
I enter the house and the sound of music fills my ears. Not loud enough to stop the thoughts though.
The minute I walked through the door...he beat me
I walk around the living room and go straight to the kitchen where I'm met with Hector.
His voice is muffled and he almost looks concerned.
I'm sure my eyes are still red from all the crying I did.
"Ay, man, you good?" He grabs me by the shoulders and I give him a curt nod, "Yeah, man. Where's my drink?"
He gives me a hesitant look before letting me go and going off to grab me a drink.
I woke up the next morning in bed with a broken nose and bruised ribs
FUCK.
FUCK.
FUCK.
"Here you go. Are you sure you are good?" Hector comes back and hands me the red cup filled with beer.
"I'm fucking amazing."
I stare down at the red cup, contemplating drinking it.
Every time I came home drunk...he was always there
Fuck this.
I chug down the beer and shake it off a bit after it's done.
Hector raises his eyebrows at me and chuckles, "Refill?"
"I need something stronger, man. I had a shitty night." I look around the table for bottles.
He reaches somewhere under the table and then hands me a tequila bottle.
"Girlfriend troubles?" He asks and I snort, "I fucking wish."
I pop open the bottle and start chugging it down.
The grandpa you got was different from the dad I got
Angelina's screams...Reuben crying in the corner...Mama's sad eyes...
When the bottle was finished, the thoughts had stopped and I couldn't remember anything more after that.
Author's Note:
My DMS are always open babes <3
I love you all and your mental health matters...you matter.
ALWAYS.
Three More Chapters Left.