Page 2 of Enzo

He's always working. He always plays with us when he's here, and we laugh together, but he works a lot too. I notice his jacket hanging over the back of a chair, and then I hear a little beeping sound. I stand up and walk over. It's his cell phone. Then I notice something sticking out of his jacket pocket. It looks like a photograph. I wonder what it is. So I pull it out.

It's Papa.

And he's standing with another woman. He has his arm around her. That isn’t Mama. I look closer at the photo. My eyes fall to the three little boys standing in front of them. They're all smiling. Behind them is a big house. Papa looks like he does now, but I don't know these people and I wonder who they are. I've never seen that house before either.

I stare at the picture for a moment. Then I walk into the kitchen.

“Mama?”

She's stirring something on the stove. She turns and smiles when she sees me. “Yes, tesoro?”

I hold out the photograph. “Who's this?”

She wipes her hands before taking it from me. “Did you have fun playing with Papa in the garden?”

“Lots and lots of fun. Papa’s in the shower and I'm waiting for him.”

Mama’s eyes never leave the photograph, but they grow big, and her mouth falls open. She looks scared. My heart feels funny. My tummy, too. Mama steps back, her hand reaching for the wall like she's about to fall over.

“Mama?” My hands feel sweaty. “Mama, what's wrong?” I feel sick. Like I've done something terrible.

Mama doesn't say anything and I get more and more scared. I can hear my heart thumping loudly. My ears feel funny.

“Where did you get this?” she asks.

I don't like the way she says it. She sounds angry, and she doesn't smile when she looks at me. She looks sad and her eyes are watery.

I wish I hadn't shown this to her.

I wish I hadn't pulled it out of Papa's jacket.

I wish I'd listened when Papa told me never to touch his workspace.

I've done something wrong, but I don't know what I did.

“From ... from ... P-papa's jacket ... it was hanging out.” My voice disappears, barely audible.

“Does he know?”

I shake my head, and then I burst into tears.

“I-I'm s-s-s-orry, Mama.” My sobs come out so hard I can barely get the words out. “I-I was waiting for Papa.”

She crouches down until she's looking right at me. “No, no...” She puts the photo on her lap and wipes my tears away with both hands. “Don't cry, tesoro.”

She shakes her head. “It's okay.” She looks at the photograph again, then closes her eyes for a second.

“M-mama?” I start sobbing again. She puts her arms around me.

“Shush, tesoro. Shush. Don’t cry. You haven’t done anything.” She smiles at me, but it isn't her real smile. It's the smile she gives me when I've done something wrong and she doesn't want me to feel bad.

“Shall I put it back?” I reach to take the photo from her. If I put it back, things will be okay again. We can pretend we never saw this.

“No.” She moves the photo out of my reach. “I'll put it back. Don't you worry about it.” She strokes my cheek. “Off you go, tesoro,” then, as I make to move away, she reaches for my wrist. “Enzo. We don't talk about this, ever. Do you understand?”

I look into her eyes, and I keep looking into them, because this sounds scary.

“Tesoro?” Her voice sounds strange.