Mother

Chapter 6

I could feel my heart sink at Santiago's words. The cold air hit my face as I stepped outside, but it didn't bother me. I had made my choice, my work and  my sons were the only thing that I needed the only things that were important to me. Everything else was just a distraction.

As I found my car, I couldn't help but think about what Santiago had said. Everything he said was true I'm never there for my boys. After my wife left I just put all my concentration on work. Working day and night I only saw my sons on holidays. I sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel, Santiago's words echoing louder than I cared to admit. "The boys need their father... who's never home."

I'd always convinced myself I was doing the right thing, burying myself in the family business to ensure my boys had a future, that they'd never want for anything. Power, wealth, protection, I could give them all of that. But deep down, I knew it wasn't the whole truth. The work had become my refuge, a way to avoid facing the mess I'd made as a father. Since their mother walked out, it was easier to drown myself in deals, territories, and blood feuds than to confront the wreckage at home. The pain, the confusion, the questions in my sons' eyes, it all stung worse than any betrayal in the streets.

I started the car, letting the engine hum quietly as I sat there, staring out into the dark parking lot. My mind kept circling back to the day she left, six years ago, but it felt like a lifetime. No note, no explanation. Just gone. One day I came home and the house was half-empty, the boys confused and scared, asking questions I couldn't answer, especially my youngest Toedoro flashed through my mind. He was just a baby when my wife left and I barely know what's going on in his life. Six years of telling myself I was doing this for them. But how long can you keep repeating a lie before it becomes the truth?

I could barely remember the last time I had a real conversation with my older sons. The holidays were just brief interruptions, where I'd shower them with gifts, hoping that would be enough to make up for my absence the rest of the year. But presents weren't enough. I knew that now. Santiago's words had cut through the denial I'd been living in.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat. "Was I really a  terrible father?" The thought lingered, heavy in my chest. I had convinced myself that providing was enough, that the sacrifices I made were for their future. But what good was that if I wasn't there for them now?

As I sat there, I could feel the weight of my choices pressing down on me, suffocating. All the missed soccer games, the parent-teacher conferences I didn't show up to, the nights I should've been home reading them bedtime stories instead of pouring over contracts. The truth was, I had distanced myself, maybe because it was easier than facing the fact that I didn't know how to fill the role of both parents.

I never told them why she left. Hell, I didn't even know myself. Maybe it was life, constant danger, the nights spent wondering if I'd make it home. Maybe it was me, too wrapped up in the business, too blinded by power to see what was slipping through my fingers. She left no trail, no way for me to track her down. For a man used to having control, to knowing where everyone and everything is at all times, that was a new kind of hell.

I should have stepped up then. Should have been there more. But instead, I threw myself deeper into the work, thinking that if I could build enough, make enough, it'd somehow fix what was broken. I thought money and power would heal the wounds.

I was thinking about Lorenzo, Enrique, Julio, Ivan Juan, Paul and Teodoro, about the years I'd lost with them. Six years since their mother left. Six years of trying to outrun the truth, knowing it was catching up with me.

I closed my eyes, Santiago's voice still ringing in my ears. "They need a father... and a mother." But their mother wasn't coming back. That much was clear. I couldn't change that. But maybe I could change something else. Maybe... I could be there more.