Stay With Me

Chapter One

Veronica

“Veve, we won’t be at the park for too long.

It’s getting late, and I have to make dinner,” Mommy says with a gentle squeeze of my hand.

My chin lifts to meet her loving gaze before returning to what I’m holding in my other hand.

I smile, looking at the double blue Popsicle currently melting in my hand.

My stomach rumbles, and I frown. I need to eat, but not dinner.

We just moved into a new house, and it seems nice.

Mommy says it’s a fresh start for us, somewhere Daddy can’t hurt us.

I’m okay with that. Daddy isn’t nice to us, especially to Mommy.

He shouts. She cries. Then Mommy will have me run to my room and place her headphones over my ears.

Music always helps me feel better when Mommy and Daddy fight.

It’s always the same song, “Dreaming of You,” by Selena. Mommy loves Selena and Fleetwood Mac.

When I grow up, I want to marry someone who is different from Daddy.

Someone kind, and someone who likes Power Rangers and Popsicle like me.

He also has to like blue because it’s my favorite color; it reminds me of the ocean.

Mommy promised that now that we’re far from Daddy, we can visit the beach, and I can play in the sand.

Using my hand, I wipe the sweat sliding down my forehead.

It’s hot out… Scrunching my nose, I inspect my Popsicle.

It’s melting fast. I let out a big huff of air as a big feeling clouds my heart.

Mommy always plays with me, but it would be even more fun to play with a friend.

We are new here, and since it’s summertime, there’s no school. I sigh, my small hand tightening around her gentle, warm hand. She looks down at me, stopping midway and bending to eye level. “You okay, Veve?”

I shake my head. I never lie to Mommy. “Do you think I’ll make a friend today?”

She smiles and softly pinches my cheek, making me squeal with joy. Her voice is soft and full of glee when she responds. “I have a feeling you will meet your best friend today.”

My eyes go wide at her words. “Best?”

She nods as she holds up her pinky. A promise. Mommy never breaks her promises. She promised while crying one night that she’d get us away from Daddy, and she did.

A chuckle escapes my lips because I know Mommy is right.

My heart feels warm and fuzzy, the way it feels when I have Abuela’s chicken, or when Mommy gives me a tight hug.

I look towards the road, and I feel something tugging at my heart, and the feeling makes my smile grow.

Mommy stands, and we continue to walk across the crosswalk.

My eyes grow big when I finally see the playground.

There’s a tall slide, blue just like my favorite color.

There’s a jungle gym that looks like a pirate ship, painted in so many colors, it looks like a rainbow threw up on it.

I like it. My heart dances in my chest as we approach.

I even manage to pull my hand free from my mother’s.

“Okay, Ronnie. Remember our rules?”

I stop at the entrance and nod, taking in the view.

My smile grows big at the sight of kids all around my age—some older, some younger, but that’s okay.

When Mommy finally waves me off with a smile, I dart towards the swings, my favorite.

I carefully take a seat in the hot swing and lick the side of the Popsicle.

Swinging softly, my feet dragging across the red mulch, I continue to eat my treat, hoping to find a friend I can share with quickly.

Then, I spot a little boy all alone playing in the sandbox.

He’s building a sandcastle with a blue shovel.

He looks sad. Maybe he’s lonely and could use a friend.

Quickly, I glance around the playground, and see everyone has a friend to play with, even the older kids who sit on the picnic tables, but not him. He just digs and digs.

“Mommy!” I call out to her, already climbing off the swing, my fingers sticky from the Popsicle.

I have to be quick if I want to share. Mommy always says sharing is caring.

Glancing over at him, I decide—I care. I look over at Mommy, who nods in approval, noticing that I want to make a friend.

With a skip, I head over to the sandbox, my eyes never leaving the boy.

He looks about my age, his hair a mess of black curls, with sandy fingers that skillfully mold the wet sand into tall towers and drawbridges.

“Wanna share a Popsicle?” I mutter softly, my body shifting from side to side. My stomach feels fuzzy, and my cheeks warm when he doesn’t respond. “You wanna be friends? I’m Veronica, but you can call me Ronnie.”

The boy looks up from his sandcastle, his eyes widen slightly at my offer, letting me see the golden color that reminds me of honey.

“I like Popsicle,” he says shyly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His dark hair falls into his eyes, and he absently brushes it away with a sandy hand. “ I wanna be friends too.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” he responds cheerfully while I snap them in half and offer him the other side. He dusts off his hands on his shorts, leaving streaks of sand on the denim.

“I’m Isaac… but you can call me Iz,” he says, taking the Popsicle from my hand. Butterflies dance in my stomach, making me feel giddy. Iz begins to take small licks of his melting popsicle and pats the sand beside him.

“Do you want to help me finish my castle? It needs a queen. You could be that.”

I look at him, feeling a rush of excitement and curiosity. “The queen of the castle?” I parrot, wide-eyed. His eyebrows furrow in earnestness as he nods, his tongue darting out briefly to catch a drop of Popsicle juice threatening to drip down his hand.

“Every castle needs a queen,” he replies.

I blink at him for a moment, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I’m sure he can hear it. “Wouldn’t the castle need a king?” I ask him shyly, holding onto my half of the Popsicle so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

He looks thoughtful for a moment before flashing me a smile. “I guess I can be your king?”

A smile spreads across my face. I like the idea of that.

Maybe Mommy was right, and today I met my best friend.

But before I can agree to be his queen, there’s an important question I need to ask.

Taking a seat beside Iz, I take a lick of my Popsicle before it runs down my hand.

“Before I agree to be your queen, I need to know two things,” I say, holding up two fingers before him.

Iz continues to enjoy his nearly gone Popsicle and looks at me.

“Two things?” he echoes, looking curiously at my raised fingers. His half-eaten Popsicle, a dripping mess now, hangs forgotten in his hand as he waits for me to continue.

“Yes,” I say firmly, putting on my most serious expression. “Firstly, and most importantly, do you like Power Rangers? And secondly, do you like chocolate? Because I love chocolate, and I think every good kingdom should have lots of it.”

Iz chuckles and wipes his sticky hand on his shorts before responding. “It’s morphin’ time!” he exclaims with a grin, striking a dramatic pose like a true Power Ranger. “And I love chocolate. I guess our kingdom shall have mountains of it.”

His eyes dance with mischief as he glances my way, seemingly satisfied with my conditions.

“Alrighty then,” I proclaim, smiling at him as his golden honey-colored eyes remain fixed on me, making my heart flutter once again. “I suppose I’ll make an excellent queen.”

“And I, a noble king,” Iz adds quickly, his chest puffing up in feigned pride. He extends a hand to me, the remnants of our shared popsicle still evident on his skin. “Shall we shake on it, my queen?”

I place my equally sticky hand into his. “And don’t forget, Iz, there will be a weekly Power Rangers marathon in the castle and an endless supply of chocolate!”

A burst of laughter breaks from his lips, filling the air around us. “Of course! Anything that my queen requires.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon building our sandcastle, our kingdom. Just two children, building a kingdom out of sand and dreams.

Isaac

Weeks later….

“One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten… Ready or not, here I come,” I call out as I scan the park, needing to find my pretty sunflower.

I hear her giggle. It sounds like it’s coming from the blue tube slide; of course, she’s hiding there.

A smile spreads across my face as I carefully approach it.

“There you are,” I squeal, startling Ronnie, causing her to fall from inside the slide. “Not fair, you cheated,” she pouts.

I shake my head. “No, I won fair and square,” I counter. “It’s your turn, so go count,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Ronnie tosses her long braid to the side and scrunches her cute button nose.

“Okay, go hide, Iz. I’ll count.” She huffs and buries her face in her small hands. I giggle and dash towards the trees, but before Ronnie can count, my father walks toward us.

“Isaac. Mijo2,” he calls. He looks sad, or maybe mad, but his hazel eyes are wet and puffy.

Has my daddy been crying? Something in my chest feels like it’s tearing like a small piece of paper being shredded as I run towards my dad.

He kneels before me, his hand running through my hair as a single tear rolls down his face.

“Hey, sport,” he whispers, his voice husky and heavy. “We need to talk.”

“But, Daddy, it’s Ronnie’s turn to seek,” I complain, a sense of unease creeping up my spine. The pain in my chest feels deeper as more tears gather in Dad’s eyes. He sighs.

“I know, son,” he murmurs gently. “But this is important.” His voice breaks, and with it, the remainder of mine. Then, I notice Daddy is once again alone, Mommy didn’t come as she promised. Where’s my mommy?

“Daddy? Why are you crying?”

He swallows hard before speaking, taking his time to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “Iz… we need to go home. It’s Mom.”

“Dad? Is Mom okay?” My mom has been having a lot of ‘sick days’ lately, staying in bed while Dad and I try to be quiet around the house.

She’s been going to the hospital a lot, and once again she lost all of her long, dark curls.

But she was better… she said so herself.

However, two nights ago, she had to ride in the ambulance, but she promised she would be okay, that we would play at the park.

I look up at my daddy, his eyes glistening again as he takes my hands in his.

“Iz… Mom’s not coming home anymore, son. She… she’s gone to heaven.” Dad’s voice wavers, nearly breaking apart on the last syllables. I feel a cold numbness creep into my chest, as if someone has punched me there. Forget the pain, there’s nothing at all.

“Wh-what do you mean, Daddy?” My voice is shaking.

My mind is reeling, grasping for some understanding amid the shock.

The wind whispers through the trees, and I feel a sudden chill despite the afternoon sun.

“Is she… on a trip?” I ask, struggling to make sense of what he is saying.

My words seem to pain him even more, and I watch as he clenches his jaw, tears now openly streaming down his face.

He pulls me close, wrapping his big, strong arms around me, his body trembling with sobs as he scoops me up and begins to walk away.

I stare at Ronnie, who looks confused as she waves goodbye.

I never told her that my mommy was sick.

She didn’t know it yet, but I lost my mommy.

.. She’s never coming back. I wanna scream, but all I do is cry.

A single blue butterfly flutters around her, and even though my vision blurs, my pretty sunflower stays clear.

Tears stream down my face, and my chest feels empty, like something fell out and took all the air with it.

1. Translation: Grandmother

2. Translation: Son