Page 1 of Velvet Deception

1

SOFIA

Another alarm blared from my phone. It ungraciously and annoyingly marked how late I was. I was running behind—as usual—on this morning, but my son beat me to silencing it.

“Come on, Mama. I’m going to be late for school,” Ramon called out from where he scarfed down the last of his cereal in the kitchen.

“Yes, yes.” I yanked the last clean scrubs top from the pile of unfolded but clean clothes. Laundry was a constant chore when I only had three sets of my uniform at the health clinic, but what was I supposed to do? Use up more money I had to be frugal with to buy more sets? Or carve out more time that I didn’t have to wash what I had more often? It didn’t seem like a win-win situation no matter which way I looked at it. Finances were tight, and I spent more hours at the clinic than at home.

“I’m coming.” I shoved my arms through the sleeves and yawned as I hurried toward him. Since he was born, he’d been my support system. It didn’t seem right to count on my six-year-old to coach me into punctuality, but it worked. I’d never beena morning person, and I had always struggled with getting up early.

Since he was born, he kept me on my toes. Whether it was with morning cries to feed him, early rising because he was an energetic toddler, or like now, a responsible little boy who knew better than to be late to school. Being a single mom was a one-person job, but he helped me. We were a little team.

“Juan goes on the bus,” he said, watching me as I forced down some stale toast, still tugging my scrubs top over my undershirt. “Why can’t I?”

I gave him a stern look. “You know why.”

He pouted, but with his furrowed brow lining deeper, I knew he was forming an argument for why he should ride the bus to school with our neighbor’s grandson. Before he could get started, I reminded him anyway. “You don’t ride the bus like Juan does because I can drive you to school. It only makes sense since I’m driving that way to get to the clinic for work.”

“But you wouldn’t have to rush like this. I could get on the bus and you could take time getting ready for work.” A wide, triumphant smile crossed over his face. He was always quick to plot and plan, seeking an answer to a riddle or challenge like it would be the biggest reward to achieve. His mind was never idle, and I prayed that he’d never lose that ambitious, problem-solving method of thinking.

“That may be,” I said as I lowered to tie my shoes, “but I need to get up and moving for the workday anyway.”

The bigger reason I didn’t want Ramon to ride the bus to school like Juan did was for safety. Since I gave birth to this sweet little boy, the light of my life, I swore I would never fail in keeping himhealthy, happy, andsafe. When he was at school, I could trust the teachers and staff to handle that responsibility. When I was at work late, I could count on Señora Vasquez next door, Juan’s abuela, to watch over him until I got home. All other times, I wanted to personally guard over him. Yes, it was a hovering mentality, never letting my son out of my sight or not within my reach, but with the past I had to contend with, with the trauma and fears I’d faced years ago, this obsession about his safety was for my sanity too.

Ramon was all that mattered to me, and I wouldn’t let myself be naïve and lower my guard to ever let him be unprotected, unaccounted for, or alone and vulnerable to where I could lose him.

I couldn’t let him ride on a bus because I had no way to know the driver was trustworthy enough. No way to be able to see how he was safe away from me, in transit to school.

“Besides, I would never give up a minute to spend with you.” Leaning close after I stood, I ruffled his thick brown hair and kissed his brow. “Especially this time of the year!”

He grinned, following me to the door. “You promise you’ll be home for the fireworks?”

We both loved Christmastime. The Christmas spirit was alive and well in Columbia. Even if it wasn’t ingrained in our culture, we would commit to the overall feeling of family and love.

“I should be,” I replied after closing the door to our home. The abandoned multiplex wasn’t anything grand, but it was mostly safe here. Our unit was the only one rented at the moment. Knowing the other three units in the building were stuffed to the brim with storage added to my sense of security. Not worryingabout someone untrustworthy living on the other side of the wall went a long way toward keeping me calm. Señora Vasquez in the next building helped too. That old lady didn’t miss anything around here in the neighborhood.

“Should be?” Ramon frowned as we got into my car.

I nodded, starting the car despite the engine’s reluctance to turn over. “Yes, I should be home.” He knew better than to ask me to promise. “I never know how long work can go over?—”

“But, Mama. It’s Alboradas!” His shoulders slumped as I drove.

“I know.” December first was typically our big kickoff to the season. Medellin was famous for its fireworks, and we’d hear firecrackers and music all night long. Just because it was a holiday didn’t mean I could excuse myself out of work. “And maybe that means the clinic will be slow, you know? Everyone will be getting ready for tonight.”

He sighed, unconvinced, and it tugged at my heartstrings that I couldn’t do better for him, that I couldn’t provide more. That I couldn’t promise that I’d be home to watch the lights explode in the night sky, the excitement that heralded the month we both loved so much, culminating with the holiday we cherished the most.

What else can I do?

I was a single mother. Scraping by for the income I could was a nonstop effort, and I refused to give up. I knew he didn’t mean to wound me or judge me for having to work so much, but it didn’t make his words hurt any less.

I’m trying my best, baby. Always know I’m trying my very best.

He didn’t speak up for the rest of the ride, and I felt a little better when he leaned in to kiss my cheek goodbye at the school drop-off line.

“Love you, baby. Have a good day and be sure to wait for Señora Vasquez to pick you up.”

He nodded. “Love you, Mama.”

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