Chapter 7 Mateo
MATEO
By the time we land in Madrid, I’m so tired that I could fall over any minute. I couldn’t sleep for one single second. The thoughts of Mona, or whoever that journalist was, kept me awake the whole flight. I definitely don’t need another scandal written under my name.
Most of my scandals involved my ex-girlfriends, so I’m being completely honest when I tell you Mona was the last woman to fuck me over. I’ll be more careful from now on.
“Mamá! Estoy aquí!” I shout as I step through the doors of the house I grew up in as a kid. Where I decided that I’ll be a driver.
“Mi nino! Mi hijo! Oh, dios mío!” Mom rushes out from the kitchen with her oven mittens on and wraps her arms around me. She gives me a hundred kisses before she lets me go.
“Hi, Mom. Thanks for letting me breathe.”
“Stop complaining! It’s a miracle you’re home.”
“Mamá, I was home two months ago.”
“It’s already been two months? Ay, hijo. You should come home every day, not every two months!”
“Why do you always act like I can just travel home any single time?”
“I’m your mom. I’ll always want you home.” She hugs me again and then turns me around to look behind me. “Sin novia again? When am I getting grandchildren, Mateo?”
“Mamá! Jesus Christ. I’m only 29. You’ll have them when it’s time.” I grab my suitcase and take it to my room.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not now, thank you. I’ll eat later. I just want to sleep now.” I hear her say ‘I love you’ as I close my door.
I plop down on my bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking for a while. I wonder if we’ll ever find Mona, or why we can’t. She’s surely hiding for a reason, and it freaks me out. I really hope it’s just fear eating me up, and nothing’s gonna happen.
But with my luck, it’ll be a miracle if I get out of this without having to rebuild my image. Even though these are not the nicest thoughts, I fall asleep easily in my own bed, exhaustion washing over me.
I wake up covered in sweat, my shirt drenched, my breathing fast. I always have nightmares coming home.
I can’t exist here, in this house, without thinking about my father.
Rain patters against the window, which only fuels my anxiety more.
He was an ordinary man. He loved his family, and we loved him.
He was the one who taught me how to drive.
He watched me grow up and helped to achieve my dreams. He was an awesome father. But all that ended when he started drinking. My own damn uncle couldn’t pay his debts, so he asked my father for help. We weren’t rich, almost all the money we had went to my karting years.
But my father signed a contract years ago and inherited my uncle’s debts. And that was killing us. I had to give up karting. Any money he kept for himself, he went to a bar with, instead of giving it to my mom, so she could buy food. No. Alcohol, for him, was more important.
Eventually, he started having medical issues. But he didn’t care. He was just existing at that point. He took me to meet his so-called ‘friends’ at the pub. He always drove back home, it didn't matter how much he had to drink. He was just driving without a care, no concern for us.
One night, it was raining heavily. You could barely see anything, the rain turned into a thick layer of curtain, blocking the view from behind the windscreen. The slippery roads made driving more difficult, but he still didn’t stop. Not even when I was begging and crying because I was so scared.
Then, we hit something on the road, a deer, probably. His reaction time was so dulled that he lost control over the car, and we just kept drifting to the unknown, until we crashed into a tree. My nose started to bleed, and my wrist broke.
I got out as fast as I could and ran until I found someone who could help. They took me to the hospital, but I never saw my father again. Not until he was lying in his casket a few days later. I was eight. I’ll never forgive him for leaving Mom alone.
“Mateo?” I hear a soft knock on my door. “Are you up?”
“Yeah. Come in.”
“How are you? My dear, you’re drenched… I’ll bring you new clothes, okay? Go shower.” I smile at her gratefully, and I do as she says. I need to get my mind off these stupid memories.
“Mamá?”
“Sí, hijo?”
“Do you still have food?” It’s a stupid question, but I want to make sure. I hear a gasp from outside the door, and I chuckle.
“Of course, Teo! You think I’ll make you starve? I made your favorite.” I smile and I mutter a thanks before I hop into the shower.