Page 18 of Forbidden Fate

“You and Mamá have done just fine,” she says. “Who needs a dad?”

“But other kids will ask me about a dad,” I say.

“No, they won’t. I’ll call Señor Vega. I’m sure he’ll love to have a playdate with you for his son.” Mamá grabs her phone. She punches in a number.

“Señor Vega, good morning.”

Pause.

“Of course. I’ll be happy to take care of you while the children play together.”

Then Mamá gets pale. She is so pretty. Dark black hair that’s long and really shiny. And her skin is a nice tan color, but sometimes, when she bites her lip, and when her eyes start to look all glassy, her skin gets lighter. Kind of like a ghost.

“You owe me,” I hear her say into the phone.

Then she sees me listening.

“Go back to your room, mijo,” she says. “This is a private call.”

“Why’s it a private call?” I ask. “I thought you wanted him to bring his little boy over to play with me.”

But Mamá just gestures me away.

I go back to my room.

My room is small, and it’s on the top floor of the big house. But it’s my own because I don’t have any brothers and sisters to share it with. I have my CD player and my CDs. I don’t have my own television, but that’s okay. I’d rather listen to music and make up stories in my head.

I have a few books I read. Some by a doctor named Seuss. Others about a rabbit named Peter. But I read them all. I’m a good reader, and I’ve asked Mamá for new books, but she hasn’t bought me any. I think I’m ready to read something with more words. Chapters, even.

I put on my CDs and lie down on my bed and close my eyes. I like closing my eyes because the music makes me think of things. Pictures. Pictures of people and places, and I make up stories about them.

I make up stories about being with other kids my age, going to school. Maybe even having a best friend.

I jerk my eyes open when my door opens.

Mamá stands there.

“Mijo, Mamá has to go out for the evening. Señora Valentina will take care of you tonight.”

I simply nod.

This happens all the time, but Señora Valentina is really nice. Sometimes I call her Señora V. She makes me milkshakes.

Mamá kisses me on the forehead and then disappears.

Sometimes she’s only gone for one night.

Sometimes it’s days at a time.

I never know.

9

ROBIN

Eight years earlier…

Romania, here I come.