Page 63 of Privilege

It took Renzo a second to realize she’d been talking to him. His head popped up from where he was spinning spaghetti around a fork, and he cocked a brow. “About what?”

“Him starting school.”

“Fine,” Renzo replied.

“Really, just fine?” Lucia passed Diego a look, but the boy was fully concentrating on cutting a meatball in half because he apparently didn’t want to try to shove another whole one in his mouth. “You’re basically his only caregiver. Every day, right?”

“So?”

“I mean … moms sometimes get emotional when they send their kids off to school. I just wondered if you might feel a little sad to see him go.”

Renzo blinked, and Lucia laughed at the expression that flitted over his features. It was a mix of a lot of things, and nothing she could really put her finger on. At the same time, she thought that surprised expression looked damn good on him. It wasn’t very often Lucia could catch Renzo off guard, but somehow, she had managed to do it tonight.

“I’m not his mom,” Renzo said.

“Mom’s gone,” Diego muttered absently before popping a half of a meatball into his mouth. “Right, Ren?”

A heaviness came to sit directly on Lucia’s chest in that second. When had their mom taken off again? Sure, Renzo didn’t owe Lucia anything when it came to his life. He didn’t have to tell her a damn thing if he didn’t want to. But that wasn’t really the point, either.

Diego seemed entirely unbothered as he sat next to Lucia at the table, announcing his mother was gone. Just like that—gone. It kind of pissed Lucia off, too. Not at Diego or Renzo, but rather, their mother. What kind of woman just didn’t care about her kids at all? What kind of woman gave birth to kids she had no desire to look after? One that chose drugs time and time again instead of her kids?

Lucia wasn’t the type to judge. She always tried to find the silver lining in bad situations. Something to paint the blackness of life with a little bit of color. When she found Renzo’s mother drunk, or high—hell, maybe it was both—she thought to help the woman. Because clearly, Carmen had needed help.

Right then, Lucia only felt a growing resentment and bitterness toward the woman she’d tried to help. Oh, sure, the anger was there, too. But the other bit felt more important, she supposed, because she could empathize with Renzo. She finally got it—really, truly understood—why Renzo spoke with such coldness every time his mother came up in conversation.

Lucia would never consider speaking about her mother with the same cold detachment Renzo used regarding his mother, but she also knew … it wasn’t at all the same. Her mother had never abandoned her; Jordyn loved her children wholly, and fully. Always their loudest, and first supporter at the beginning and end of each day. All they had ever known was love when it came to their mom, and even their dad.

Renzo never had that.

Neither had Diego, or Rose.

Sure, Lucia had realized those things before, but it was as she sat there with Renzo and Diego that it finally really hit her, and what it meant. She could hear about their struggles—she could even see them first hand. Yet, she would never fully understand what it meant because that wasn’t her life. She had been given the privilege and beauty of a good life, two great parents, and a whole family that also acted as a support system for her.

From her grandparents, to her uncles, aunts, and cousins.

The Marcellos were one unit.

“You went quiet,” Renzo noted.

She peered over at him, and watched as he popped a half of a meatball into his mouth before shooting her a wink. He didn’t seem bothered at all by his little brother outing the fact their mother was MIA. Like this was something he was used to—her coming, going, or not giving a fuck about them at all. Maybe that was what hurt Lucia the very most.

Renzo was amazing.

He didn’t know it, but he was.

He deserved better—and so did his siblings—than what his mother was giving him. And his father, too, likely. Because where was that man?

Who knew?

“When did she take off?” Lucia asked.

Renzo cleared his throat, and took a moment to set his fork down before wiping his mouth with a napkin. He chewed and swallowed his food before meeting her gaze once more. “Whenever she was released from the hospital, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He shrugged, so flippant and distant from it all. Maybe that was just the way he protected himself, Lucia wasn’t really sure, but it still hurt her heart for him all the same.

“Yeah, I mean … that night you tried to help, she was here and out of it. It got really bad—she started throwing up, and choked a bit. I did what I usually do in that case, and called for an ambulance. I called the hospital twice. Once the next day to make sure she was …” Renzo trailed off, and passed his little brother a look. Diego was fully engrossed in his food, but Lucia knew that didn’t mean anything. A kid could pretend like they weren’t hearing anything, but in truth, they likely heard everything. “Hey, you done, buddy?”