#tscfanfic

When the bell rang, Simon began shoving his things into his bag. He was supposed to have band practice immediately after class, but he was going to tell them he was going straight home to work instead.

‘Simon,’ his teacher said. ‘Could you stay behind for a moment?’

Clary smiled reassuringly at him as his heart, which had just begun to return to normal rhythm, began to pound again. ‘I’ll wait outside for you.’

Simon made his way to the front of the classroom and stood awkwardly while his teacher finished cleaning the board. She put the eraser down, dusted her hands together, and then looked at Simon with kindly eyes.

‘It’s not like you to hand in work late,’ she said. ‘Is there anything wrong?’

‘No,’ Simon said. It was a reflex. He didn’t need help, he could do it on his own. He immediately hated himself for it. Yes, there was something wrong. He didn’t understand a word she had said. He didn’t understand the homework. He didn’t understand the book. ‘No, I’m fine. I guess I just fell behind a little. It won’t happen again.’

‘You’ll tell me if you need help, won’t you?’ she asked. ‘You’re my best student, Simon, but it’s okay to ask for help every once in a while.’

Simon forced a smile. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’m okay. I can give you the homework tomorrow. I’m really sorry.’

‘I can let it slide this time,’ she said. ‘Because I know it’s not a habit with you. I don’t expect it to happen again.’

Simon nodded, gave her another fake smile, and then left the room.

Clary was waiting for him in the corridor.

He didn’t go home this time. He didn’t think he could face his mum just yet. Didn’t think he could sit in her presence and attempt to finish late homework. Not that she’d know it was late homework, but it didn’t stop the nagging feeling in his mind that she’d somehow figure it out.

When he got to Raphael’s, Guadalupe was still in her work uniform. The house was the emptiest and quietest it ever got, because only Guadalupe and little Emanuel were home. At least, that’s what Simon thought, until Raphael came down the stairs, his plain white T-shirt spotted with water that dripped from his wet hair.

‘I thought you were in detention,’ Simon said, looking up from his book.

Raphael shrugged. ‘My boss called and asked if I could work today instead.’

‘So you went to work instead of school?’ Simon asked. He glanced over at Guadalupe, who was preparing snacks with her head bent. Simon thought the expression on her face was a little strained, but she said nothing. ‘So was it the cleaning job, the fast food job, or the library job?’ Simon asked.

‘Take a guess,’ Raphael said, slumping into an available chair and resting his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been in the shower for half an hour and I still stink of fried chicken.’

‘That’ll be the cleaning job, then.’

Raphael smirked and brushed damp curls out of his eyes.

Guadalupe placed a plate of sandwiches on the table between them, ran a hand briefly over Raphael’s hair and then left the room to change out of her own uniform.

Simon waited until he heard her bedroom door close and then said, ‘Do you really need money that badly? Do you not worry about school? What about your GPA?’

Raphael shrugged, but said nothing else.

‘You really need three jobs?’ Simon pressed. ‘And you let them make you work even when they know you’re supposed to be in school?’

‘Simon,’ Raphael said. His voice had taken on the unsettling flat tone it had when he was getting angry. ‘It doesn’t matter, okay?’

Simon considered pushing it further, but then he noticed the dark smudges under Raphael’s eyes. He picked half heartedly at a sandwich, tearing chunks off and eating them. It gave Simon the impression of someone eating not because they’re hungry, but because they know they have to.

Would anyone exhaust themselves like that if they didn’t feel like it was necessary? he wondered. He looked down at his notebook, a copy of The Great Gatsby open beside it, both of them filled with senseless scribbles. He thought about how disappointed his mother would be if he didn’t get straight As. If he didn’t get into a good college. If he wasn’t perfect. It was the only time she paid any attention to him really. The only thing that brought her out of the mindless haze she’d been in since her husband had died. The only thing that reminded her she even had children at all.

That was what Simon exhausted himself over. Being the perfect son to please his mother, to gain any sort of attention or affection from her. And yes, that was entirely necessary. And no, he didn’t ever want to discuss it with anyone.

Whatever Raphael’s reason was, it was none of Simon’s business unless Raphael decided to make it so.

‘Maybe you should take a nap,’ Simon suggested.

Raphael shook his head. ‘Can’t.’

Simon sighed. ‘Which one?’

‘Cleaning.’

By the time Raphael kissed him goodbye on his way out to his second job, Simon was still staring blankly down at his copy of The Great Gatsby. The words themselves no longer made sense, and the questions he was supposed to be answering on them made even less sense. How was he supposed to know what the colour green represented? Green was just a colour! Or how some old billboard was supposed to be representative of God.

‘Pretty sure authors never plan any of this stuff anyway,’ he mumbled.

‘What did you say?’ Guadalupe asked.

Simon jumped, drawing an accidental black line across his notebook with his pen. He hadn’t heard Guadalupe enter the kitchen.

‘What are you doing sitting in the dark, corazón?’ she asked, flicking on the light.

Simon blinked against the brightness. He hadn’t realised how dark it had gotten. He glanced at his watch and saw that it had already been two hours since Raphael left. Two hours and all Simon had done was sit and stare at his homework.

‘Are you alright, Simon?’ Guadalupe asked. She glanced at the empty page of his notebook and Simon automatically leaned over it, blocking it from view.

‘Fine,’ he said, forcing a smile the way he had when he had spoken to his teacher earlier that day. Except this time lying made him feel guilty instead of just anxious.

Guadalupe regarded him for a moment before saying, ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But just remember who it was who raised Raphael.’ She cocked an eyebrow in a manner that so strongly resembled Raphael it was as though she was trying to prove a point. ‘I know when I’m being lied to. If you need help, Simon, no matter what it is, all you have to do is ask.’

Simon felt a surge of emotion in the pit of his stomach. All of his anxiety over his grades and his desperation for his mother’s approval and his exhaustion rose up in him like bile and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell Guadalupe. What he said instead was, ‘Why does Raphael work so much?’

There was a flicker of surprise in Guadalupe’s dark eyes, followed by something that looked like sorrow. It made Simon’s guilty deepen. Then she said, ‘We have a big family. It is difficult for me to support us on my own.’

‘But...does he really need three jobs?’

‘He hasn’t talked to you about this himself, has he?’ she asked. She glanced down at the floor as she spoke, as though she were afraid of meeting Simon’s eyes. She seemed to be retreating into herself. A moment ago she had been open and willing to talk to him about anything he wanted, but now, as soon as the subject of Raphael’s job was raised, she seemed reluctant to say anything. Just like Raphael always was.

‘I’m sorry,’ Simon said. ‘I don’t mean to be nosey or anything, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.’

When Guadalupe glanced up at him again and flashed a small smile, Simon realised he was repeating what she had said only minutes ago.

When Simon went to bed, he still hadn’t finished his homework. He scribbled some basic answers, thinking maybe he’d done enough to get a D. The thought of it made his stomach churn. But it was preferable to explaining to his teacher that he still hadn’t finished it. At least he thought it was preferable. Could he maybe tell her his dog ate his homework? Was that still a thing people said? Was that a thing that ever even happened? He didn’t even have a dog. Maybe he could tempt Yossarian into shredding it if he placed it on the floor and covered it with cat treats.

He was still awake when Raphael got home. He heard Raphael and Guadalupe speaking in hushed voices in the living room, but they were speaking in Spanish. He loved hearing Raphael speak Spanish, even though he didn’t understand it. He’d picked up a few words and phrases, but not much. He liked the way the words flowed from Raphael’s tongue, like music.

The door opened and Raphael padded softly into the room. He didn’t turn the light on and Simon smiled to himself.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m still awake.’

He heard a rustling sound as Raphael undressed, and then Raphael pulled back the bedclothes and climbed into bed.

‘How was work?’ Simon asked.

‘Exhausting,’ Raphael said, burying his face into Simon’s chest. ‘I hate cleaning that place.’

Simon laughed and kissed the top of Raphael’s head, feeling Raphael’s hair brush his cheeks.

‘Did you get all of your work finished? Raphael asked.

Simon tensed. Then he realised Raphael just meant had he finished everything he needed to; he didn’t know Simon had been working on late homework.

‘Yeah,’ Simon said.

‘Good.’ Raphael’s voice was fading as he drifted off to sleep.

Simon lay awake for a long time, listening to Raphael’s deep breathing. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about school tomorrow. About handing his pitiful homework to his teacher for a grade. About receiving the marked work back. About having to explain to his teacher what the problem was. Why didn’t he tell her he was struggling when she asked? All he had to do was say, ‘Actually, I’m finding it a little bit difficult,’ and she’d have talked to him about it. It seemed so simple now. One short sentence and he wouldn’t be here now, lying awake in the middle of the night, feeling sick to his stomach. But at the time, the words just wouldn’t come. He couldn’t ask for help. If he needed help he wasn’t trying hard enough. He wasn’t good enough. That’s what his mum would say.

He heard the front door open and slam shut.

Simon’s arms tightened around Raphael and his heart began to pound. He heard shuffling footsteps in the living room and the sound of someone muttering under their breath.

Simon was thinking about waking Raphael up, when he heard Guadalupe’s bedroom door open and her light footsteps descending the stairs.

Simon gently moved Raphael aside and slipped out of bed. He listened at the bedroom door for a moment but heard nothing. As quietly as he could, he pulled open the door and left the room, standing at the head of the stairs. He could hear two people whispering in rapid Spanish. He recognised one of them as Guadalupe. The other voice, a man’s, he didn’t recognise. But he sounded angry. Simon could tell just from the tone of his voice. They didn’t sound they way Guadalupe and Raphael had before Raphael came up to bed. Their voices were lowered, the words hissed at each other with obvious venom.

Simon started to feel like he was eavesdropping on something private. It seemed unlikely that a complete stranger would break into someone’s house, coincidentally happen to speak their language in country where it was not the dominant language, and then simply argue with the woman who lived there. So Guadalupe must know him.

But Simon was reluctant to move. The man sounded really angry and, though Guadalupe was whisper-yelling right back, Simon thought there was a quiver in her voice.

Really, he reasoned, how could you eavesdrop on someone when you didn’t understand what they were saying?

He felt like his breathing was so loud they must surely hear him, but they didn’t falter in their arguing.

There was a thud, as if something had been thrown.

‘Quiet!’ Guadalupe hissed, the first words spoken in English. ‘You’ll wake the boys up.’

‘Damn the boys,’ the man replied, making less of an attempt to keep his voice down. There was a snarl in his voice that raised the hairs on the back of Simon’s neck.

He went down the stairs, all the while telling himself what he should really do was turn around and go back to bed. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave Guadalupe alone with an obviously threatening man.

He pushed open the living room door with numb fingers. Both voices fell silent as Simon entered the room. He saw Guadalupe first, wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, her hair mussed from sleep. The man stood at the opposite end of the room. He was only a few inches taller than Guadalupe, with dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. It only took one glance for Simon to figure out who the man was. Raphael had the same heart-shaped face, curly hair, and dark eyes as his mother, but he had the same shaped mouth as this man, his lips fuller than Guadalupe’s. He had the same high cheekbones as this man too, but they looked ghoulish on this man. His face was gaunt, his shoulders hunched, and his clothes hung off him. There was a strong odour of whiskey that seemed to cling to him.

‘Simon, go back to bed,’ Guadalupe said.

‘Who the fuck is this?’ Raphael’s father asked.

Guadalupe took several paces towards Simon and placed her hands protectively on his shoulders. Her glare was hard when she looked back at the man. ‘This is Raphael’s boyfriend.’ She spoke the words like a challenge.

The man rolled his eyes. It was a gesture so reminiscent of Raphael it turned Simon’s stomach. ‘Of course he is.’

‘You should go back upstairs, Simon,’ Guadalupe said, lowering her voice as though she was trying to block the other man out of their conversation.

‘I was worried about you,’ Simon said.

Guadalupe brushed hair back from Simon’s forehead. Her fingers would rough with calluses. ‘I know, cariño. It’s alright though. I can handle this.’

‘You need to stop adopting strays, Guadalupe. You’ve got enough as it is,’ the man said.

‘Magnus and Ragnor are not strays,’ Guadalupe snapped. ‘Neither is Simon.’

Simon peered over Guadalupe’s shoulder at the man and found him glaring right at him.

‘Wouldn’t stay here if I were you, kid,’ he said. His speech was a little slurred. ‘Boy might look like an angel and act like his shit don’t stink, but he’s trouble. And she’d let him get away with murder.’ He nodded towards Guadalupe. ‘She’d probably help him hide the body. Whole lot of them are going to hell, but he’ll be the first one there.’

‘Eres un hiji de puta,’ Guadalupe said, turning back to face Raphael’s father. ‘You would be dead without us. I threw you out and yet you keep coming back because you can’t even earn an honest living. Raphael is already ten times the man you have ever been.’

The man snarled and took a step forward. Simon pushed Guadalupe back and stepped in front of her. He wasn’t much of a threat, he knew that. He’d never been in a fight in his life. But he hoped the prospect of family violence reaching the attention of someone outside of the family would be enough to deter him.

The man stared at him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Simon forced himself to look him in the eye. His mouth was dry and he could feel his hands trembling. But he set his jaw and fixed his expression into something he hoped looked defiant.

‘Get out while you can, kid,’ the man said. Then he pushed past Simon and Guadalupe and left the house, slamming the door shut.

Simon exhaled and his whole body began to shake. He thought he might fall over. Guadalupe put her arms around him and pulled him close. Her hand brushed through his hair and she was whispering, ‘Gracias, gracias, gracias.’

Simon awkwardly rubbed her back, until she took a step away from him. She kept her hands on his shoulders and she was looking him up and down with a concerned expression, as if she thought maybe he had been hurt without her noticing. She sighed with relief when she saw that he was okay.

‘So that...’ Simon said. ‘That was your husband?’

‘Was my husband,’ Guadalupe said. There was a tone of disgust in her voice that Simon had never heard there before. ‘I threw him out five years ago.’

‘Why does he come back?’

‘Money,’ Guadalupe said. ‘He is too drunk to be able to hold down his own job.’

Realisation dawned on Simon. ‘That’s why Raphael works so much instead of going to school.’

Guadalupe lowered her eyes from Simon’s, looking ashamed. ‘I tell him he does not need to do that but he does not listen.’

‘Does he ever?’

Guadalupe gave him a wan smile. ‘No. Raphael will always do whatever he wants.’

Simon hesitated, then said, ‘Why does his dad seem to hate him so much?’

‘He hates all of us,’ Guadalupe said, a little too quickly. Then she sighed. ‘He never wanted children. He blames Raphael for dragging him into a situation he did not want to be in.’

‘Oh.’

Guadalupe, shorter than Simon, placed both hands gently on his cheeks and tipped his head down so she could lightly press her lips to his forehead. He had seen her kiss her sons in the exact same way many times.

‘Go back to sleep, corazón,’ she said.

Simon, unable to think of anything else to say, turned to leave.

‘Simon,’ Guadalupe said, when he reached the door. Hand on the door handle, he turned back to face her. ‘Don’t think about what he said. I would be honoured to have you as a son.’

Simon smiled. The first real smile he had smiled in days.