While his father has given him a great life, Mateo must learn how to make his own. There’s no telling how much time either of them has—either Mateo will be right that he’s cursed to die young or his father will pass before him, just like it should be. He’ll never forget the first time he told Teo about the curse and how sad his father got at the idea of having to bury him.
Why can’t people live forever?
“Talk to me,” Teo says gently, like he’s inviting Mateo in and won’t be upset if he declines but wants his son to know that he’s here and would like his company.
Mateo watches everyone in the park with awe. All they’re doing is being themselves, and it’s still the most magical thing in the world. Why can’t Mateo cast those same spells?
“I just look at everyone, and I don’t know how to be like them.”
“I love that you’re you,” his father says. “You’re a special kid, Mateo.”
“You have to say that. You’re my dad.”
“Belief is less about what you say and more about what you feel. Since the day you were born, I felt such powerful love and protection for you. I hope to protect you now by promising that there is no one else like you. I’m lucky to not only know you but to call you my son. You don’t have to be anyone but Mateo Torrez Jr.”
Mateo stares up at the sky, remembering all the times his father brought him to this park and taught him about the clouds while on the swings; doing that instead sounds really nice right now. But a question is clawing its way up his throat and wrenches his mouth open and flies out: “Should I really be myself if no one likes me?” And before Teo can say the obvious, he adds, “Please don’t say that you like me. I know that already.”
“As long as you know it,” Teo says. “What about Lidia?”
“She won’t like me forever. She thinks I’m annoying.”
“When did she say that?”
“Well, she never said annoying, but she said I’m an overthinker. Like I’m too much.”
“You’re very thoughtful, Mateo. You can be too careful sometimes, but we know that.”
Over the years, whenever Mateo has gotten hurt, he’s done everything humanly possible to make sure it never happens again. There was the time he was running during a recess race and tripped and scraped his knee and he refused to play for the rest of the school year. Even when he was working up the courage to run again and have fun, no one wanted to pick him because they didn’t think he was a good sport. He is. Why is it a bad thing to not want to get hurt?
“It’s like . . .” Mateo stares at the ground, not wanting to see the other kids playing together. “It’s like by keeping myself safe, no one wants to be in my life. I’m not trying to push people away, Dad.”
“I know you’re not, buddy. Maybe you can try something different. Go pull someone in.”
“How?”
“Go talk to someone. Most important, be yourself while doing it.”
Mateo doesn’t know about this. But then again, how dangerous could other kids be? It’s not like when he got scared of those two older boys in Times Square. Mateo thought they were up to no good at first, like a prank or something worse, but it turns out they were up to good. They just wanted a picture taken together, and when Mateo saw them kissing, he felt something unlock within. It reminded him of the conversation he had with his father last month.
“How do you find love, Dad?” Mateo had asked. “Where is it?”
“Love is a superpower,” his father had said. “It’s one we all have, but it’s not a superpower you’ll always be able to control. It’ll get harder when you get older too. Don’t be scared if you find yourself loving someone you’re not expecting to. If it’s right, it’s right.”