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My father’s men won’t let my mother come up to the attic to check on me, so she sends Ruiz, her personal guard. He’s a big boss, so the other guards have to let him upstairs. He sneaks me food and a chamber pot. It’s embarrassing to pee in a pot, but Ruiz shines a flashlight, and he doesn’t watch as I go into the corner to do my business.
“There’s no shame in it, Rafael,” he says in a kind voice. “Men do what they have to do to survive.”
I’m not really a man—not yet. But Mamã says it’s his way of showing me respect.
Ruiz always helps me the best he can. He does it for my mother. He’s loyal to her. But Ruiz has to be careful. He can’t go against my father. Papai would kill him. Then who will protect Mamã until I grow up?
Even if my mother finds out I’m in the attic, Ruiz can’t help me today. His daughter is getting married, and he’s not at work. No one’s coming to help me today.
My chest shakes and tears fall. Don’t be a baby. I can’t stop them.
I sniff and sit on the floor, in the middle of the room, away from the shadows and the eaves. When I feel brave, I look into every corner for trouble. There’s nothing, but it’s dark and ghosts are sneaky.
My skin feels like it’s on fire. I’m tired. So tired. Too tired to stay awake so the ghosts and the bats can’t get me.
Monsters are chasing me through the vineyards when a guard wakes me.
I open my eyes, and he looks like a monster. A little pee trickles out.
“Go into the bathroom and wash your face,” the guard says when we get downstairs. “And put on some long pants. Your father has company.”
Company? That makes me feel better. He won’t hit me in front of guests—or call me bad names. He likes to pretend he’s a nice papai when people are visiting.
After I change into clothes to greet guests, the guard walks me to the parlor. The pants aren’t soft like the shorts, and every time I move, they rub against my sore skin, but I don’t complain to the soldier. That’s what a baby would do.
It’s dark out, and I don’t see my mother anywhere. Maybe she’s visiting Tia Lydia, her sister, or maybe she’s with the company. Usually she waits for me near the attic stairs and brings supper to my room. I’m always starving when I leave the attic. I’m hungry today, too, but I can’t keep Papai waiting.
When we get to the parlor, my father is with some of his friends, and the police captain. He sends them away the minute I walk into the room. I want to beg them to stay so Papai doesn’t hit me again, but I don’t want to be a coward.
The men seem sad as they pass by me. Maybe they know I’m going to get another beating. No, Papai would never let that slip, not even to his friends. Maybe the men came to tell him I did something bad. Maybe that’s why the policeman is here. Maybe Senhora Soares told the police we stole apples from her tree. We were hungry, but we only took one each.
The police captain puts his big hand on my shoulder as he leaves. He doesn’t look mad. “It’s going to be okay, Rafael. May God bless you.”
I must be in a lot of trouble.
Papai gives me a bad look, but I don’t see the strap anywhere.
“Your mother is gone,” he says, like he ate rotten soup. “The whore left us and ran off with a man. Do you know why that is, Rafael?”
There’s so much noise in my head that I can’t hear anything.
No! My mother would never run away without me.
Everything is moving slow, even sounds, like when we change the speed on a video game.
“Do you know why the whore left, Rafael?” he asks, louder this time. Meaner.
I shake my head.
“Because you are a stupid boy. That puta was so embarrassed to have a son who can’t read, a son that is such a disappointment, that she ran away.”
My stomach hurts, real bad, and not because it’s hungry. I’m scared. And mad. Ashamed. It feels like my head is going to pop off. I’m going to cry. I can’t, because he’ll punish me. But it’s no use. No matter how hard I concentrate, I can’t stop the tears.
“Get out of my sight, you sniveling fool,” Papai growls.
I leave the parlor quickly, before he changes his mind, and run through the house, looking everywhere for Mamã.
When I find her, I’m going to promise her that I’ll try harder. That I won’t play after school. I’ll just practice my reading until I’m the best reader in the whole class. Maybe even the whole school.
