Mi Amor - Oscar 'Spooky' Diaz/On my block Story

30

The next morning, I woke up and checked my phone, noticing a ton of messages and missed calls. 

The first missed call was from Oscar, followed by a message.
Oscar: "Hey, mi amor. You're probably asleep. Just wanted you to know I found the guy who did that to you. Let's just say he learned his lesson."
Oscar: "I miss you next to me in bed."

Cesar had also tried to reach me twice. His following texts hit hard.
Cesar: "Something happened. Monse got a call that her mom passed away." 

Shocked, I kept reading, realizing how sudden this all was.
Jamal: "I want to make a mourning bag for Monse. Should I go with one or two chocolates?"
Jamal: "Forget it—one can never have enough chocolate."
Jamal: "What else should I add? Tissues, waterproof mascara, maybe some alcohol?"

Ruby: "Did you hear about Monse's mom?"
Ruby: "I know what she's going through... it's brutal. We need to be there for her, but she'll probably push us away."

I tried to call Monse, but it went to voicemail. So, I sent her a text to let her know I was there for her whenever she needed me. 

Then I set my phone down, feeling a wave of helplessness. Nothing I could do would ease her pain right now; she needed space to grieve. But in that moment, I realized how quickly things could change and wanted to be close to my family. Loss made you see time with fresh eyes.

Two days later, it was time for Monse's mother's funeral. She'd told me I didn't need to come since I hadn't known her mother. Since everyone else was busy, I went to Oscar's place. He wasn't home, but he'd texted that he'd be back soon, so I made myself comfortable, flipping through the channels while waiting.

After a bit, I got up to use the bathroom. On my way back, I overheard voices coming from Cesar's room. Ray was with him, helping him adjust his tie. I paused, hidden by the doorframe.

"You're a good kid," Ray said, his voice low. "I'm proud of you."

Hearing that struck me—did Oscar ever get to hear those words from his father?

"Thank you," Cesar said, looking up to his dad with a soft smile.

Ray continued, "I had a shitty dad, too. Never thought I'd be a good one. You don't get to choose your family, but if I could, I'd still pick you."

My fists clenched as I headed back to the living room, my heart pounding. Ray had some nerve, talking about what a good father he was to Cesar while Oscar got the short end of the stick. Once Cesar left, I couldn't hold it in.

"So..." I started, stepping into the room, "I heard you and Cesar talking. You think it's fair to treat Oscar like he's the bad son?"

Ray looked up, taken aback. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Oscar raised Cesar because you were too busy being out of the picture. He took care of your responsibilities while you were gone, did what he had to in order to keep Cesar safe. And now you're out here, acting like he owes you? You think he should be grateful?" My voice was shaking, anger boiling over. "Oscar didn't ask for this life—you forced it on him. He was just a kid, and he had to grow up way too fast, carrying the weight you left behind. And everything good you see in Cesar? That's all Oscar."

With that, I stormed out of the room, tears pricking my eyes. It wasn't sadness exactly—it was a mix of frustration and heartbreak. Oscar deserved to be seen for who he was, not for what people assumed he was.

Some time later, Oscar texted me to say he'd met with Cuchillos and the 19th Street guys, telling me he'd handled things. He'd be home soon.

I heard his car pull up, then his heavy steps as he came in. But he didn't come straight to me, which felt strange, so I got up to check on him. I found him standing in front of Ray, who was packing a bag, his expression tense.

Oscar's voice was laced with anger as he spoke. "Finally cleaning up your mess?"

Ray barely looked at him. "I'm leaving. Caused enough trouble here."

A pang of guilt hit me, wondering if my words had pushed him to leave.

Ray went on, "You boys don't need no more trouble."

Oscar's expression barely softened. "Yeah? And how'd Cesar take it?"

Ray sighed. "I'll tell him when I'm in Bakersfield. There's a guy there helping me out. Could help you too."

Oscar laughed bitterly. "I don't need help. I've already got everything I need."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? The Santos?"

Oscar's glare hardened. "They're more family than you've ever been."

Ray softened, trying to sound fatherly. "One day, the hood won't love you back. Your power's gonna fade. You don't have to stay here, Oscar. You could choose a different life."

Oscar gave a cold, forced smile. "Thanks, Papa. Maybe I'll be president, or an astronaut. Or a movie star. All because of the great role model I had."

Ray shook his head, looking hurt. "I had a shitty dad, too, but you don't have to carry that anger forever."

Oscar's voice dropped, raw and unfiltered. "Let it go? It's the only thing that's kept me alive out here. Surviving... because I had no one else."

Ray picked up his bag and shouldered it. "Guess I'll see you around."

Oscar's composure cracked, his voice edged with frustration and something close to pain. "So I'm supposed to tell Cesar you're leaving? Just dump that on me, too?" His voice broke as he went on, "Every single bad thing that's happened in my life... it all goes back to you. And now you're going to break his heart the same way you broke mine."

Ray turned around, his face full of regret and sadness.

Oscar's voice softened, barely a whisper. "Why didn't you ever write? Or call? Did you ever even think about me?" His voice was desperate, pleading, stripped of all defenses.

Ray stepped toward him, and without a word, wrapped Oscar in a hug. Oscar hesitated, but then he returned it, his anger momentarily giving way to something softer.

They held on for a few long seconds, but Oscar finally pulled back, blinking back tears.

"Take your stuff and don't come back," he said, his voice steely once again.

And just like that, Ray walked out.

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