Javier's Chico

5.

Arthur thought a lot about Isaac since Mateo had joined camp. Perhaps it was seeing how happy Mateo was despite their circumstances, how he and Javier had such a good bond, or just general jealousy, but he couldn't stop thinking about his own boy. He was just as sweet as Isaac was, a little joy despite their own shitty circumstances. He did wonder where Mateo's mother was, why Javier was alone in a different country with his son, but he never felt the right time to ask.

The young boy occupied himself with Arthur, watching him draw before he got bored and wandered around the campfire with candies getting gross and sticky in his hands, melting from the heat of the fire.

"I don't mean to be rude but—Where did you even come from?" John asked rather abruptly. It was on everyone's mind and he finally spat it out.

"I'm from México.." Javier looked awkwardly at everyone else, John knew that, it was a rather ridiculous question.

"He doesn't mean that, why did you come here?." Arthur corrected him.

"I was a...revolucionario. They say I am bad."

"Who did?"

"I killed a man, but I can't talk about it." John was eager to know more, but youthful ears were listening, though Mateo probably didn't know much of what anyone was saying, and if he did, it wasn't the kind of story he wanted Mateo to remember Mexico by. "Ay, Mateo.." He mumbled, taking Mateo's jacket off him since he decided to wipe his sticky hands all over it.

"You're a good father, Mateo is lucky to have a dad like you." John said. Javier didn't look up, he felt a smile creep on his face. It was all he needed to hear after the last few weeks, that he was doing good for his son. For the last three years of his son's life, he doubted himself. A good parent wouldn't have stayed a revolutionary, putting their child in danger. But he did his best to protect him.

"Hi Arthur!" Mateo giggled, running right into Arthur's arms when he finally put his journal down. "¡Mi amigo! ¡Arthur es mi amigo!"

"That right? We friends now? It's way past your bedtime, mister." He poked at Mateo's cheeks.

"Nooo..." Mateo had that cute, nasally little laugh all toddlers had, and a big grin, and a little gap where a tooth was still growing.

Arthur was itching to tell Javier about his son, but that wasn't fair. Why would he tell him about his dead son when he and Mateo were just settling into camp? But any time he saw Mateo, it was almost jealousy he felt, he loved the kid but God, he missed Isaac. He wished Isaac could've been there now to play with Mateo.

"Where's Mateo's mother?" John blurted out. In hindsight, maybe asking that right in front of the little boy wasn't the smartest idea, or asking it so abruptly came off as rude, but John didn't think about that. He knew he shouldn't have said it when Arthur glared at him.

Javier kind of shrugged the question off, speaking in Spanish to his son to pry him away from Arthur to take him to bed. He led his boy to the tent, thinking the question over in his head. What could he possibly say? How could he ever explain his situation without sounding like a liar? Because that's what he was. He lied to everyone.

Arthur lit a cigarette behind his hand, the camp was filled with an awkward quietness, other than distant whispers from Javier. It was a mutual understanding that John had just said something way out of line. "Wow." Is all Arthur could say, glancing at his brother.

"I know you were all wondering it."

"Really? Thought it was a good idea to say it right in front of Mateo?"

"How was I supposed to know he didn't wanna talk about it?"

"Mateo's mother is dead." Javier came back rather abruptly. Mateo was quick to fall asleep, and Javier always seemed to come back at the worst times. His stomach dropped the moment the words came out, he dug himself a hole now.

"I was just curious. Normally it's the mom's who take the kids when—" Arthur gave John a hard jab in his side to shut him up.

"I had a son too." Arthur nodded. Javier's ears perked up a little.

Arthur always felt a sympathy for any parent he saw, a sense of jealousy too perhaps of anyone who got to live a normal life with someone they loved, and their children. Javier felt the same. It wasn't fair that he was stuck raising Mateo on his own, or that he would grow up into a bad situation with just his pa. As much as he loved his boy, he recognised he was trapped as a single father.

Javier was about to go back to his tent after he picked his guitar up, but Arthur caught his attention. He turned back to him, he now looked rather upset but he was still smiling. "Your son is a lot like mine. Always happy, don't know what world he's been brought into."

"Where?"

"Him an' his mother are buried together. They were...robbed an' murdered. You know what for?
Ten dollars. Ten fuckin' dollars they killed my boy over."

There seemed to be an understanding among the group, that everyone went quiet when Arthur talked about Isaac. He sighed and picked up his journal again, finding a page in the very back where he had a drawing sketched in pencil, of himself, a young woman and a small child, not much older than Mateo. He turned it around and showed Javier.

"I'm sorry Arthur..."

"Nothin's gonna happen to your kid," Dutch reassured him, approaching Javier from behind. He had no idea what he would do if he lost Mateo, if he'd even be able to live with himself if something happened to him, "He's got us now. You ain't on your own no more."

"How old were you when Mateo was born?" Arthur continued, seeing a striking resemblance between Javier and Eliza's past. He didn't look as old as some of the other gang members, and he seemed rather young to be a dad to a two year old. "¿Años?"

"I don't know..." He muttered, Hosea wasn't around to help him translate. He held up two fingers, to gesture twenty. So he really was just a kid. "My wife...she was same."

"I'm sorry." Arthur nodded in Javier's direction.

"An' I'm sorry I asked." John agreed.

"It is okay. But I should sleep. Buenas noches, amigos."

~~~

He thought about everything Arthur said that night. Eliza and Isaac, both killed over a little money. Buried next to each other while he was still alive, on his own.

He lay on his back and watched the stars for a while, he could feel Mateo's breath tickling his skin. Life just didn't seem fair. He had a good life for Mateo, but he was born into a cruel world, he knew from the moment his son was born that sooner or later Javier's revolutionary reputation would catch up to him, maybe they would've ended up like Eliza and Isaac if he'd stayed in Mexico. But he remembered how excited his sister was to meet her nephew, or how excited he was to meet his son, and to run away from his town like he had promised his baby boy and start a new life, somewhere much safer.

Javier cried that night. For himself, for his son and for Arthur. No wonder Arthur loved Mateo so much. He was confused at first, why Arthur was more than happy to take the boy for horse rides or teach him how to draw, or even just let Mateo sit on his lap. Javier couldn't live with himself if something happened to Mateo.

He cried as he stroked his fingers through Mateo's soft black hair, watching his sweet little face as he slept. He was in bad circumstances in a world that had no place for a criminal like his father, but Javier promised the moment Mateo lay in his arms as a tiny little newborn, that he would do everything for him and give him the life he never had. Mateo had no idea of the world he was living in, and for now, that was a good thing.