By the time I tuck Nico into bed for the night, I’m about ready to keel over from overexertion after our extra-long practice session today. Nico is supposed to be practicing for his Strawberry Festival performance coming up this July, but something about his restless energy and residual grumpiness told me he needed the additional time to work through his feelings, so I kept him company while he unleashed his emotions on the ivory keys of his piano.
If Nico’s heartache had a sound, its notes would match that of a sentimental progression—achy and heartfelt and so damn wishful, it comes across as painful longing.
Even the music he listened to while taking a shower carried a melancholic tune, although I pretended not to notice while I folded laundry in his room next door.
“Can you read with me?” Nico pops out his bottom lip.
I stare at the superhero-themed alarm clock on his nightstand. “I’d love to, but it’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”
“Please.” He presses his hands together. “I’ll only ask for one story this time. I promise.”
I’ve always struggled with saying no to Nico. It’s one of my biggest flaws, especially when it comes to cute little kids who wield puppy eyes and good manners like a superpower. If Rafael were here, he would roll his eyes and give me a speech about it, but he is locked away in his office.
Over the last few months, Nico’s bedtime routine became my sole responsibility, and I know Rafael stopped trying because of the awkward tension between him and his son. I’ve tried my best to encourage my boss to try again, but he claims Nico only wants to read stories with me.
Nico and I weren’t always this close, especially given his trust issues with others, but little by little, our bonding over music expanded to most aspects of our lives—from having divorced parents to our love of Formula 1—we have built a strong relationship that I cherish.
“Ellie?” Nico taps on my shoulder.
I let out a deep sigh. “All right. Scoot over.”
He carefully removes his action figures from the left side of his bed and lines them up on his nightstand. Compared to all his other toys that lie abandoned around the house until he is ready to play with them again, he takes extra care of the figures Rafael created with his 3D printer. My boss designed and painted them himself, a fact that I try to block from my mind solely because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing he spent months working on each one for his son.
Nico pats the empty spot beside him with a smile.
I reach for the two newest options on his bookshelf and hold them up for him to choose. Between the newest comic book about his favorite superhero and a short chapter book in braille, I already know Nico’s answer, but I give him a choice regardless.
“Which one are we feeling tonight?”
He squints at the covers for what feels like an eternity. For a kid who spent the last month talking about how excited he was for this comic, he sure is having a hard time picking today.
“I’m giving you three seconds to decide. One…two…”
My brows creep toward my hairline as he passes over the newest edition of his favorite comic book and grabs his braille book instead.
I check his temperature with the back of my hand. “Are you sick?”
“No.” He pushes me away and yanks his book open hard enough to make the spine crack.
Before he has a chance to read a sentence, I pluck the book from his lap and take a seat on the edge of his bed. “Hey.”
He tries to snag the book back, but I place it out of reach.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He stares straight ahead.
“I don’t like to push…”
“Then don’t.”
“But I’m worried about you.”
He remains silent, nearly suffocating me with the tension building between us. If this is how Rafael feels whenever Nico shuts him out, I can now understand his bad mood a bit more, because it absolutely sucks.
I’m not ready to give up yet, so I try again. “You can always talk to me about anything. No matter how bad it is.”
His gaze drops to his fists clutching the comforter in a death grip. “I can’t. Not about this.”
I tuck my fingers under his chin and force him to look me in the eyes. “Why not?”
“Because I’m scared.” His strained voice can barely be heard over the air conditioning blasting from the vents.
“About what?” I wait patiently as he takes a deep breath, only to be disappointed when he stays quiet.
“Does it have something to do with your mom?” I ask in my softest voice.
He shakes his head hard enough to send water droplets flying off the tips of his hair.
“Dad?”
His bottom lip trembles as his eyes flood with tears.
Oh, shit. What did Rafael do? I bite down on my lip to stop myself from asking that and ten different questions at once.
His voice is barely audible as he asks, “You promise not to say anything?”
My stomach churns with uncertainty. I shouldn’t make any promises of the sort, but if it means that Nico will share what is bothering him, then so be it.
I ignore my concerns and nod. “Sure.”
It takes him another thirty long seconds to speak again, all while my heart beats rapidly.
A single tear slips down his cheek. “My vision is getting worse. It’s harder to see in the dark lately, and the tunnel vision is getting narrower.”
I feel like I just took a brass-knuckled punch to the gut. “Oh, Nico.”
Another tear follows the watery path toward his wobbling chin. “I’m nervous.”
“Of course.” I take a deep breath. “Why haven’t you told your dad?”
“Because I don’t want to make him sad again.”
My chest clenches as I absorb the pain on his face like it’s my own.
I’m at a loss for words as I tuck him against me, wishing I could do anything other than sit around, waiting for time to steal whatever vision he has left.
One day, Nico won’t be able to see much, if anything at all. It’s unfair, given his young age. A kid like him deserves to experience life and the whole world without a diagnosis hanging over his head, reminding him how he is different from other children his age.
I brush his hair out of his eyes. “Your dad would want to know if you’re having trouble.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“Of course he would. Why would you think anything else?”
Nico takes so long to answer, I mistakenly think he’s fallen asleep.
“He cried at the doctor’s office,” he says with a shaky voice.
I freeze. “When?”
“In January.” His chin trembles. “I heard him…in the bathroom.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods.
My heart breaks for the two Lopez men, knowing they are suffering in silence when they could be relying on each other. Yet no matter how hard I try to push them together, they both continue to resist.
“He doesn’t know that I know.” His sniffle makes the crack in my chest widen.
I give him a squeeze. “It’s okay for people to cry. It’s normal and can be healthy.”
“Yeah, but not when you’re the reason.” His gaze drops.
“But he wasn’t crying because of you. He was crying for you.” I’m not sure what makes my heart ache more: Rafael having a breakdown about his son’s eye condition or Nico witnessing his father at a rock-bottom low that was meant to be kept private.
It’s hard to pick, especially when I picture my cold, emotionally unavailable boss crying.
Wouldn’t be the first time. I’m reminded of a memory I’ve kept at the back of my mind of a teenage Rafael breaking down in a parking lot one Christmas Eve long ago, completely unaware of me sitting in the car parked next to his.
At the time, I had no idea why Rafael was crying, but I’ve been able to piece it together after Josefina shared once that the anniversary of his mother’s death lands on December twenty-third.
The memory fades as Nico speaks again. “That doesn’t make it any better.”
My arms tighten around him. “I’m sorry.”
He snuggles into me. “It’s not your fault.”
“No, but I am anyway. You’ve been carrying this inside all this time…”
I should have pushed harder. Asked more questions. Something more than creating a ridiculous smile tracker in hopes of bringing Nico and his dad back together, thinking that would do the trick.
I take a deep breath and voice the opinion Nico will hate to hear. “You’re going to have to tell him about this.”
His arms tighten around me. “I will.”
“When?”
He flinches. “After our trip?”
I pull back to get a better look at him. “No. You can’t wait three weeks to tell him about something like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s your dad. He deserves to know what’s going on with you so he can help.”
“Telling him now won’t make a difference.” His shoulders slump like they are single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. “My eyes aren’t ever going to get better.”
As much as I want to deny the truth, Nico is right. Nothing we can do will change his diagnosis, but that doesn’t mean he needs to struggle by himself. He can count on us to support him through it all.
“If you’re scared, I could talk to him for you.”
A look of pure desperation flashes across his face as his fingers dig into my arm, right over a tiny group of butterfly tattoos. “No! Please, please, please, Ellie. Don’t say anything yet. At least not until after our trip.”
“Why do you want to wait?”
“Today, he smiled, and yesterday, he laughed!”
The chasm in my chest deepens as I remember the sound that took me by surprise. While Rafael’s laugh wasn’t loud or powerful, it was soft and impactful enough to make Nico smile for the remainder of the day.
“He never laughs anymore.” Nico’s misty eyes make mine tear up as well. “I don’t want to ruin that before our trip.”
My deep breath might not calm my heart, but it gives me a moment to clear my head. “I need you to be honest with me and tell me how bad it has gotten since your exam in January.”
He asks to use my phone and pulls up an example of his current vision. It has begun to dim around the edges, as if he is seeing the world through a pair of binoculars, which was a symptom the doctor warned Rafael about given Nico’s advanced medical state. His tunnel vision isn’t as bad as I had originally thought, but it still worries me given how young he is.
While I don’t want to risk my job for a secret, I’m not sure I have much of a choice unless I want to break Nico’s trust. If his safety were truly at risk, I would betray it in a heartbeat to protect him, but I’m going to choose to believe him.
I release a heavy breath. “I’ll give you until after your birthday party.”
His face turns a sick shade of green. “But that’s in a week!”
“It’s either that or we tell him tonight.”
It kills me to put my foot down, especially when Nico pouts and says, “I don’t want him to be sad before our vacation.”
“That’s fair, but you know it’s the right thing.”
His reply is nothing but a deep sigh of resignation.
I lift his chin so he can look me in the eyes. “He may be temporarily unhappy, but the trip will help him feel better.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Okay, I may not know for certain, but I’ve never heard a single person say they had a bad time in Hawaii.
With all the effort Rafael put into planning this special trip for his son, including canceling the original Europe itinerary all because Nico became obsessed with Hawaii this year after watching a hundred hours of content about the place, I know he will have a good time.
Or so I hope.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll tell him after next weekend.”
This mini Lopez is going to be my downfall, because where Rafael is rough around the edges and keeps his heart locked behind a wall of ice, Nico wears it proudly on his sleeve for everyone to see.
I would do anything to protect it and him, even if it means making a promise about a secret that isn’t mine to keep in the first place.
