Page 63 of Tension
“Mateo?” Roger’s voice draws me back.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I nod. “Just tired.”
“We’re here.” He gives me a sad, knowing smile as I straighten and look out the window. My building is there, the lights of people’s homes illuminating the night sky.
“Damn.”
He doesn’t press for more. He just gives me a nod, and I’m grateful as I get out of the SUV, burying my hands in my jacket pockets.
Once I’m upstairs, I unlock my apartment door and step inside, greeted by the familiar hush of solitude. The sounds of the city are muted by thick glass, and the weight of the day clings to my shoulders like a second skin. I toss my keys on the counter and head straight to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. My phone buzzes on the kitchen island, and I smile when I see FaceTime from Mami.
I swipe to answer, and within seconds, my parents’ faces fill the screen, side by side, glowing under the soft lighting of their California kitchen. My mother’s expression is warm and searching, while my father’s is stoic but observant.
“Mijo,” Mami greets, her voice instantly soothing. “We caught you at home?”
“Just walked in,” I say, collapsing onto the couch. “Had a meeting tonight.”
Her face softens. “How did it go?”
“Good. I needed it.”
My father nods once, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer before he speaks. “You look tired.”
I manage a smile. “That’s because I am.”
“Practices?” he asks.
I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Gruelling, but worth it. We’re perfecting the Jive, Mambo, and Paso Doble. Long days, sore everything.”
“And school?”
“Midterms are coming up,” I answer. “It’s a lot, but I’m managing.”
Mami’s eyes crinkle with pride. “We’re so proud of you. Just seeing you like this...”
I feel it in my chest, that bittersweet sting of being seen, really seen, by the people who feared I might not make it.
My father leans forward slightly. “Is it becoming too much?”
I blink. “No,” I say, more quickly than I mean to, so I take a breath and soften my tone. “It’s not too much. I promise. I’ve got a handle on it.”
He studies me carefully. “Mateo...”
“I swear, Dad. I’m good. Paris is in two weeks. Once that’s done, I’ll take a break and focus on school. Slow things down.”
His shoulders ease slightly, but his eyes are still full of worry. “You just don’t have to prove anything to anyone anymore. Not even to us.”
“I know,” I murmur. But I do. Maybe not to them, but to myself? Every damn day.
“I’ll let you both rest.” I smile, hoping they don’t see anything deeper than my surface-level exhaustion. “You look tired too.”
“We’re always here, Mateo,” Mami promises. “Any time, day or night.”
“I know.”
