Concerns. Right. More like they’d seen that post and decided I wasn’t fit to receive a loan. Jenna’s apologetic tone did little to soften the blow, her words punching my throat, dreams turning to dust with each syllable.
The landscaping business, the chance to build something of my own…all slipping away. “I understand. Thank you for letting me know.” I hung up before she responded. Tossed the phone back in the cupholder. Fuck.
Even Alonso wasn’t immune to the fallout. He swore up and down that my working at the shop hadn’t caused any issues, but I saw the customers’ wary glances, heard their hushed whispers. Each time they looked away quickly, it confirmed my worst fear—I had become a liability to my own brother.
Glancing at the groceries in the backseat, I looked for anything that needed to be immediately refrigerated. But I didn’t see anything that would melt. Good. There was one last errand that needed to be done and I’d put it off all week, hoping that things would get better.
But it wouldn’t get better, no matter what Alonso or Elena said.
I had to stay strong for Mia. Had to find a way out of this mess.
But God, it was getting harder every day.
***
I headed toward Blanco Springs Elementary, a once welcoming sight now twisted with dread. I had to do this. For Mia.
How long had it been now, a month? Six weeks? I had sat here that day, stomach full of butterflies at the idea of enrolling my girl here, sending her off to her first day of school.
And it had been such a success, changing her life—and mine.
Now, I sat in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel. But I couldn’t put it off any longer.
With a deep breath, I stepped out of the car, the bright Texas sun beating down on my face like a spotlight. I sensed the eyes of the other parents on me as I walked towards the entrance, their whispers and stares burning holes in my back like hot coals.
As I pushed open the door to the school, I tried to hold my head high, to project an air of confidence and nonchalance, but inside, I was crumbling. Making my way to the front desk, I avoided looking at the others in the hallway.
“Can I help you?” the older woman behind the counter asked, her voice polite but tired.
I swallowed hard. “I need to withdraw my daughter from school,” I said, my voice low. “Mia Mendez. She’s in Mr. Parker’s class.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her face before she quickly schooled her features into a neutral expression. “Of course, Mr. Mendez. Let me just get the paperwork for you.”
As she bustled away, the weight of my decision pressed down on me like a physical burden, the enormity of what I was about to do hitting me with the force of a freight train. Was I really ready to uproot Mia’s life, to tear her away from all this because of what happened?
Before I could dwell on that thought any longer, the sound of a door opening caught my attention, and I turned to see Mrs. Hawkins, the principal, emerging from her office. She caught myeye and gestured for me to follow her. “Mr. Mendez, would you mind speaking with me privately for a moment?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
I hesitated for a moment, but I couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, and she had never been anything but respectful to me since I enrolled Mia here. But my presence here was an embarrassment to her school, it had to be. She couldn’t have me out in the front lobby where everyone would see me.
With a nod, I followed her into her office, my heart beating so loudly that I was sure she heard it.
As the door closed behind us, I braced myself for the worst.
The silence in Ms. Hawkins’ office was deafening, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound as I sat across from her, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I felt her eyes on me, studying me like one of her unruly students with concern and curiosity, as if she were trying to read my mind. “Mr. Mendez,” Ms. Hawkins started, her voice both gentle and firm, “I understand you’re here to withdraw Mia. But before you decide, may I share a story about Mia?”
“Of course,” I murmured, curious about where this was going.
“I was observing the kindergarten art class last week, and saw a picture that Mia drew.” A soft smile played on her lips. “It was a picture of her family and friends at school. She drew herself in the middle, holding hands with you and her classmates. It was beautiful and full of joy.”
I took a deep breath, imagining my little girl sitting with all of her friends, creating her masterpieces in crayon. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hawkins, but I don’t have a choice. After everything that’s happened, I can’t risk putting Mia in jeopardy.”
Ms. Hawkins leaned forward, her eyes filled with understanding. She listened patiently as I stumbled through my reasons, each word a shard of glass in my throat. “I know that you’re going through a difficult time right now and won’tpresume to imagine the stress you must be experiencing. And I am sorry about what happened, and that it was all exposed on the Facebook page associated with our school. But I want you to remember that Mia is doing wonderfully here at Blanco Springs Elementary. She’s made so many friends, and her teachers have nothing but positive things to say about her.” She paused and caught my eye. “I’d hate to see her lose all of that because of a rash decision.”
A lump rose in my throat, thinking about all the people who had seen the post, had screenshots saved on their phones. “I know,” I muttered. “Trust me, I’m aware how much she loves it here. Her classmates, her teacher…” I paused a moment, the memory of Ken’s warm body tucked underneath mine as we slept at the front of my thoughts. “This school means the world to her. But I can’t ask her to face the fallout of my mistakes. It’s not fair to her.”
Ms. Hawkins nodded, her expression one of understanding and empathy. “I know you want to protect her. But have you considered the impact that leaving so suddenly might have on her? She’s already been through so much, with her health concerns and the move to Blanco Springs. Stability and consistency are so important for children her age. Please, take some time to think it over.”
I felt a pang of guilt at her words, knowing that she was right. Was I really doing the right thing, tearing her away from everything she loved?
