19.
DANTE FERRAZ
Aurora’s call dropped as I picked up my keys.
I did not attempt to call back.
She had no signal.
Every second spent insisting would be one less second available to reach the school.
I sent Marta a message.
Aurora authorized me to collect the children. Her car broke down in S?o Bartolomeu.
Her reply came as I entered the vehicle.
We received her message. You may come.
I drove away.
My heart beat quickly.
It was not the first time I would collect the children.
But it would be the first without Aurora.
The first time she would hand all three over to me out of necessity.
I could not turn that into more meaning than it possessed.
She had not spontaneously trusted me.
She was stranded in another town.
Even so, she had chosen my name.
When I reached the school, Marta was waiting at the gate.
Her expression was serious.
“Mr. Ferraz.”
“What happened?”
“Tomás ate part of another child’s cookie.”
The world seemed to stop.
“Did it contain nuts?”
“The package says it may contain traces of cashews.”
“Did he react?”
“He began scratching his mouth. We administered the antihistamine Aurora left and called the pediatrician. He is conscious and breathing well, but we need to take him to urgent care.”
“Where is he?”
“In the office.”
I went inside.
Tomás sat in a teacher’s lap, with red marks around his mouth.
Elisa was crying.
Cecília was curled beneath a table.
My entire body went on alert.
“Daddy Dante,” Elisa shouted. “T?mas is sick.”
I approached the boy.
“Hello.”
He looked at me.
“My mouth itchy.”
“Are you breathing normally?”
“Yeah.”
Marta handed me a small bag.
“His medication and documents are here.”
“Does he have an epinephrine pen?”
“Aurora leaves one at school.”
The teacher showed it to me.
I had read about allergies.
But not enough.
Never enough.
“Was it used?”
“No. The doctor said to observe him while waiting for a guardian. If he has trouble breathing, swelling, or worsens, we use it.”
Tomás coughed.
My blood went cold.
“We’re going to the hospital now.”
“What about the girls?”
I looked at Elisa.
Then at the table.
Cecília remained hidden.
“They’re coming with me.”
“I can keep them here,” Marta offered.
“I don’t know when Aurora will arrive.”
“They are safe here.”
Elisa heard.
“Don’t want to stay!”
Cecília began crying beneath the table.
I needed to decide.
Aurora had said Cecília experienced changes as abandonment.
Separating the girls from Tomás while he was ill might make everything worse.
But taking three children to urgent care alone also carried risks.
“They’re coming,” I decided.
I crouched near the table.
“Cecília?”
No answer.
“It’s me.”
“Want Mommy.”
“I know.”
“She disappeared.”
“Her car broke down. She’s coming back.”
“She’s not here.”
“No. But I am.”
Silence.
“Tomás needs to see a doctor.”
I heard a sob.
“Is he gonna die?”
The question struck like a blow.
“No.”
The answer came automatically.
I could not promise that.
I corrected myself.
“The doctors will take care of him. We’re going together.”
“Mommy going?”
“As soon as she can.”
I held out my hand but did not put it beneath the table.
I waited.
Cecília emerged slowly.
Her face was wet.
She held my finger.
“Don’t leave him.”
“I won’t leave his side.”
I lifted Tomás.
Elisa held my shirt.
Cecília held my hand.
Marta helped place them in the car.
Tomás sat in the middle.
I wanted to keep him in sight, but I needed to drive.
“Elisa, can you watch Tomás and tell me whether he’s breathing normally?”
Her eyes widened.
Mistake.
Too much responsibility.
“You don’t need to,” I corrected. “I’ll watch him in the mirror.”
“He’s breathing.”
“All right.”
I called urgent care on speakerphone during the drive.
I explained the allergy.
They told me to come directly in.
Tomás began coughing again.
“Is it difficult to breathe?” I asked.
“Dunno.”
“Does your chest hurt?”
“No.”
“Does your tongue feel big?”
He stuck it out.
Elisa began crying more loudly.
“It’s big!”
“That is its normal size,” I said.
I did not know.
I checked the rearview mirror.
The marks were spreading down his neck.
“Use the pen,” the doctor said through the telephone.
“I’m in the car.”
“Are you the child’s guardian?”
“I’m his father.”
The word emerged at the worst and truest possible moment.
“Pull over somewhere safe and inject it into the outer thigh. It can go through his clothes.”
My heart raced.
I stopped at the side of the road.
I got out.
Opened the back door.
Tomás looked at me in fear.
“Will it hurt?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Don’t want.”
“I know.”
“Want Mommy.”
“She is coming.”
I picked up the pen.
My hands could not shake.
“Look at me,” I said.
“Don’t want needle.”
“I don’t want to do this either. But it will help you breathe.”
“Daddy…”
The word I had longed to hear became a plea.
“I’m here.”
I administered it.
Tomás screamed.
Elisa screamed with him.
Cecília covered her ears.
“It’s over,” I said. “It’s over.”
Tomás cried.
I lifted him into my arms, although we were standing beside the road.
“It hurt.”
“I know.”
“You stabbed me.”
“I did.”
“You’re mean.”
“You may be angry.”
His breathing appeared stable.
I did not trust my impression.
I returned him to the car seat and continued driving.
At urgent care, a nurse met us at the entrance.
Tomás was taken into an examination room.
I attempted to follow.
Elisa clung to my leg.
Cecília would not release my hand.
“Only one guardian can enter,” the nurse said.
“I have two other children.”
“They may wait in reception.”
I looked around.
There was no one I knew.
“I can’t leave them.”
“Then call someone.”
Mrs. Lurdes.
I called.
She answered on the second ring.
“What happened?”
I explained quickly.
“I’m coming.”
“Your knee…”
“Forget my knee.”
She hung up.
The nurse waited.
Tomás was crying in the room.
“I need to go inside.”
Elisa wrapped her arms around my waist.
“Don’t leave us.”
The rule.
Do not separate them.
“You’re going to stay with Mrs. Lurdes. She is coming.”
“How long?”
“Not long.”
“How long is not long?”
I did not know.
“A few minutes.”
“Promise?”
The word again.
“She is already on her way.”
Cecília began to grow agitated.
“Mommy.”
“I’ll call her as soon as I go inside.”
“Now.”
I tried.
No response.
She was probably still without signal.
I sent a message.
Tomás had an allergic reaction at school. I administered epinephrine. We are at urgent care in Santa Brígida. He is conscious and breathing. Mrs. Lurdes is coming to stay with the girls.
The message was sent.
Elisa saw my telephone.
“Mommy knows?”
“I sent her a message.”
“She’s coming?”
“As soon as she can.”
Mrs. Lurdes arrived less than ten minutes later, limping and out of breath.
“My darlings.”
The girls ran toward her.
Cecília, however, returned and grabbed my shirt.
“You come back?”
“I’m staying with Tomás.”
“Then come back to me?”
“As soon as the doctor says he’s all right.”
She looked at Mrs. Lurdes.
“She stays.”
“She does.”
Cecília slowly released me.
I entered.
Tomás lay on an examination bed with a monitor attached to his finger.
The redness was beginning to fade.
The doctor listened to his chest.
“You administered the epinephrine at the correct time.”
My legs nearly gave way.
“Is he all right?”
“He is responding. We will observe him for several hours because of the risk of a biphasic reaction.”
I sat beside the bed.
Tomás looked at me.
“Want home.”
“You need to stay here first.”
“Don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“Want Mommy.”
“She is coming.”
“You know?”
“I sent her a message.”
“She always comes.”
His certainty was absolute.
“Always.”
That time, I could say it.
Aurora always came.
Tomás held out his hand.
I took it.
“You got scared?” he asked.
The same question Cecília had asked after he ran toward the street.
“Very.”
“Me too.”
“It’s all right to be afraid.”
“I cried.”
“I almost cried too.”
“Men cry.”
“Your sister has already explained that to me.”
Tomás closed his eyes.
“Stay.”
“I’ll stay.”
The telephone vibrated.
Aurora.
I answered.
“How is he?”
Her voice was breaking.
“He’s all right. The doctor said he responded to treatment. He will remain under observation.”
“You administered the epinephrine?”
“Yes.”
“Was he short of breath?”
“The redness spread to his neck and he began coughing. The doctor instructed me to use it.”
“Where are the girls?”
“With Mrs. Lurdes in the waiting room.”
“Alone?”
“With her.”
“Cecília…”
“She’s frightened. I explained that your car broke down and that you are coming.”
Silence.
“I’m twenty minutes away.”
“Drive carefully.”
“Don’t tell me…”
She stopped.
Breathed.
“All right.”
“Tomás wants to speak to you.”
I brought the telephone closer.
“Mommy.”
“My love.”
Her voice changed immediately.
“You coming?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Daddy stabbed me.”
I closed my eyes.
“It was medicine, sweetheart. He did the right thing.”
Tomás looked at me.
“Mommy said right.”
“I heard.”
“It hurt.”
“I know. When I arrive, I’ll kiss it.”
“Okay.”
He handed back the telephone.
“Aurora?”
“Yes.”
“He is safe.”
I did not say everything would be all right.
I could not guarantee that.
Only what I knew.
She took a moment.
“Thank you.”
It was the first time she thanked me without resistance.
“You don’t need to.”
“I do.”
The call ended.
I remained beside Tomás.
Forty minutes later, Aurora entered the room.
Her hair was disordered.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes found our son before anything else.
She ran.
Tomás opened his arms.
“Mommy.”
Aurora embraced him carefully, kissing his hair, forehead, and hands.
“I’m here.”
I stood and gave them space.
She checked the redness.
The monitor.
The IV.
She spoke to the doctor.
Only afterward did she look at me.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
“You administered it by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Did he let you?”
“No.”
A broken laugh escaped her.
“Of course he didn’t.”
“He was angry with me.”
“It will pass.”
“That is what I said.”
Aurora lifted a hand to her mouth.
For a second, I thought she would cry.
Instead, she crossed the short distance between us.
And embraced me.
My body stopped.
Her arms encircled my torso.
Her face rested against my chest.
It was not a romantic embrace.
It was fear.
Relief.
Gratitude.
Even so, it was the first touch she had chosen since my return.
I raised my hands.
Stopped before touching her.
“May I?”
Aurora nodded against me.
I closed my arms around her.
I held her.
Not tightly.
Not as though I had regained something.
Only enough to tell her she was not alone in that moment.
Tomás watched from the bed.
“Hug me too.”
Aurora stepped back.
We went to him.
Both of us embraced him.
Our son remained between our bodies.
Aurora’s hand touched mine over the blanket.
That time, she did not pull away.
It lasted only a few seconds.
But for the first time, we did not resemble a family imagined by a child.
We were three people moving through the same fear.
Together.