daisies and daffodils

The party for little Rodolfo Vargas's first birthday is a thing to remember.

With the entirety of the 141, the Vaqueros, and their plus ones in attendance, the house is packed full of people. Most everyone gathers in the great room, adding gifts to the ever-growing pile of presents in the center of the room or fawning over the chubby toddler sitting in Alejandro's arms.

You bounce back and forth between the great room and the kitchen, offering your help to Mrs. Vargas as she frets over the food; you don't have the heart to tell her that in a few hours everyone will probably be too drunk to care- they're already well on the way there. She welcomes the help, not that she needs it; the woman is on top of everything and you don't know how she does it.

The constant movement gives you the chance to say hello to everyone and makes the time pass quickly. Every so often you catch eyes with Simon as he looms in the background, far enough away to not be surrounded by people but close enough to not appear rude. When you see him, you give him a soft smile and raise your brows- an assurance that you're okay and the silent question if he is. He nods back, gesturing his head slightly toward the group.

I'm fine. Go have fun.

The time comes for little Rudy- a nickname that chokes up big Rudy every time he hears it- to go to bed; his head lolling onto his father's shoulder as he can barely keep his eyes open. Alejandro passes the toddler to his wife with a laugh, sending them upstairs with a kiss on the cheek each.

She stops you on her way to the staircase, asking if you mind helping her bring some of the presents upstairs as one of the Vaqueros comes out of the kitchen with a loud cheer and a bottle of Alejandro's expensive tequila. You agree easily, both of you knowing the presents will be safer upstairs than down here.

Arms loaded with boxes and bags, you play a cautious balancing act as you follow Mrs. Vargas through the halls of the second floor to the nursery. She pushes the door open wide for you to follow through, heading across the room toward the crib. You have to turn to the side before you're able to fit all of the gifts through the door.

You're halfway into the room when your right side lightens considerably and the top few boxes are lifted from your sight. You turn in surprise to see Simon's disapproving gaze staring down at you, the presents tucked carefully against his side.

"I could've handled it," you pout, continuing inside. With a roll of his eyes, Simon follows you silently, keeping directly behind you- your shadow whether you like it or not. Mrs. Vargas stands in front of the wooden crib, bouncing a fussy Rodolfo in her arms and gently shushing him.

"You can put those over there," Mrs. Vargas instructs, gesturing towards the already giant pile of stuffed animals and toys on the other side of the room. You nod, carefully setting the gifts down and taking the rest from Simon as Mrs. Vargas grabs a bottle for Rudy.

There's a small exclamation behind you and you drop the box in your hands, knocking over a few of the stuffed animals. Fixing the toys, you hear movement behind you followed by the hushed voices of Mrs. Vargas and Simon.

"No, I'm not-"

"It'll only be for a few minutes. Thank you!" You turn back in time to see Mrs. Vargas hurry from the nursery.

"What happened?" you ask, looking at Simon. You freeze, taking in the scene before you. Simon stands in the center of the room, an imposing figure of threat and darkness surrounded by the beiges and bright yellows of the nursery, glowering at you with his shadowed eyes as the toddler in his arms pokes and pinches at the painted cloth of his mask.

If he wouldn't kill you, you'd take a picture.

"She spilled milk on her dress," Simon explains, leaning back as Rodolfo lightly slaps his nose. He narrows his eyes slightly at the child, obviously angry but you can see the way he holds himself back to not be too menacing.