The circles under Cesar’s eyes aren’t as dark, so at least he’s getting some sleep. It’s weird seeing him without his cross and jaguar necklaces, though, but I guess they wouldn’t allow that sort of thing here. I sit at a table across from him and put the Takis and his homework down as a peace offering.
“You know me so well. Thanks.” But I don’t know him that well, apparently. I fake a laugh so he doesn’t get uncomfortable. “I’m getting out tomorrow,” he says with a grin.
His smile looks forced. I wonder if his smiles were always this forced and I didn’t notice. Has it always been like this? Right now, his happiness seems undeniably fake.
I wish I knew how to help him. I think back to the article I read. I guess asking questions is worth a shot. “How long?” I ask, and Cesar just gives me a confused look. “How long have you been feeling this way?”
Cesar sighs. “Do we have to get into this now?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to make him dig into any of his trauma if he doesn’t want to. Not right now. No matter how badly I want to know.
He must see something desperate in my eyes, because he answers anyway. “A long time, okay? A long time.” Before I can answer with an apology, he’s changing the subject, like he does. “Yami, it’s so boring in here, you don’t even know.”
“Yeah?”
“They don’t let you do shit. It’s just therapy and, like, coloring books all day.”
“Do you think it’s helping at all, though?” I ask.
He shifts in his seat and shrugs.
“How’s therapy?” Cesar isn’t usually one to talk about his feelings, but I let myself hope it’s helping.
“Fine, I guess.” I wait a second, but realize that’s as much as he’s planning on giving me.
“So, I should probably warn you . . . ,” I say. He deserves a heads-up that Mom knows about Jamal.
“What?”
“Promise you won’t freak out?”
“Just tell me.” He fidgets with the bag of Takis. He still hasn’t opened them.
“Um . . . Mom went through your phone.”
“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “What did she say?”
“Not much. She knows about Jamal, though. . . .”
Cesar covers his face. I’m only making things worse. I shouldn’t have told him.
“But it’s okay! I don’t think she’s mad at you, and I promise I’ll come out to her before you get home. And I have a job and enough money saved up to put down for this apartment I’m looking at, so we can make it work if we need to.” I’m talking so fast I don’t know if I’m making any sense. I slow down. “I got you, okay?”
He’s quiet for a while. I hate that the job is part of the reason I haven’t been there for Cesar, but now more than ever, it helps to have a backup plan.
“You really have enough to get a place?” Cesar asks.
We’d be struggling, and I don’t know the first thing about living independently as minors, but I nod. If I need to, I’ll figure it out. I try to steady my hands so Cesar doesn’t know how terrified I am.
“I guess I should say thanks.” He doesn’t force a smile. I do.
“I, um, I talked to Jamal, too.” Maybe there’s one thing that can make him feel better.
“Yeah?”
“He wanted to know if you’re okay. He’s not mad, and he doesn’t hate you.” Somehow the words don’t feel as powerful coming from my mouth as they did from Jamal’s.