Page 39 of Titus

“¡Niños!” my mother shouted with a laugh. “You’ll ruin the clothes I just put on you.” I turned and looked at her.

She stood a little farther up the shore, just beyond where the tide reached, as the breeze tugged gently at the hem of her dress. There was always something about my mother’s presence that made everything else feel quieter, as if the world settled when she was near.

She wasn’t dressed like the other women we saw at my father’s events. She never was, because there was no need for it. Our mother carried something far more commanding than any designer clothing could give any woman. She was natural and warm, and her presence made you feel that being near her was enough.

“We’ll dry easily!” Colton called back, laughing with us as he rushed into the surf and splashed water in my direction.

I loved the freedom of being here with just my brothers and my mom. She was always smiling, but it wasn’t only that. It was the way she watched us, as if she were memorizing every second, holding on to something she didn’t want to lose.

I walked out of the surf, and headed toward her with water dripping from my clothes as I reached her side.

“You said we could stay all day,” I reminded her, glancing back at my brothers as they kept running along the shore.

“I did,” she said softly, brushing her fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my face the way she always did. “And we will. I just don’t want your clothes to be drenched or you three will complain on our walk back to the house.”

My mother’s touch lingered just long enough to feel grounding and safe.

“Though I should probably allow you boys to enjoy this freedom, as we will rarely have it after we return home,” she said. “Do you enjoy spending your summers where your mamá grew up?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

Her smile deepened, though there was something behind it—something quieter, something I didn’t fully understand at the time.

“That’s because you’re allowed to be children here,” she said.

I frowned slightly, looking back at my brothers. We were always children, weren’t we? Sometimes my mother made no sense.

“It’s more fun here,” I said instead, because that was the only way I knew to explain it.

Her hand moved from my hair to my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “I know,” she said with her usual warm smile. “And for lunch, we’ll be eating your Tía Marcella’s paella.”

I inhaled the salty ocean air as if I could already smell Tía’s paella cooking in our summer home, filling the place with the rich scents of garlic and saffron.

I leaned into my mother, fully relaxed and at peace with everything I loved about her and about our lives when we came to the house in Marbella.

For a moment, everything felt still, even as I watched the ocean move and felt the wind carrying through the air. I smiled, hearing my brothers’ laughter echo behind me. This was our slice of heaven on earth.

Until, as if the wind shifted, it all changed. The heaviness that replaced the serenity wasn’t loud or obvious, but you could feel it. My stomach dropped as I saw my mother’s expression change.

And as if someone had snapped their fingers, the lightness of the moment was gone, replaced by a heavier, looming thickness in the air.

I looked up at her, and for the first time since we’d arrived, the softness in her expression faded. She glanced over her shoulder, her warmth giving way to something more severe.

Only one person could bring out this darker side of my mother.

I turned back to confirm and saw my father standing further up the shore, just beyond where the sand met the stone walkway.

As always, he was perfectly composed and immaculately dressed, completely out of place in a moment that, only seconds ago, had felt like freedom.

“Titus,” he said without raising his voice.

That was all it took, and my brothers stopped playing in the surf and slowly stepped away from the water.

I felt Mom’s hand shift slightly against my shoulder, neither pushing me forward, nor holding me back. “Go to your papa,” she said quietly.

I didn’t want to. I looked back at the ocean, at the place where everything had felt light and easy just moments before. Then I looked back at him. Even then, I understood. I knew the rules and the repercussions if he had to call my name a second time.

I walked toward my father slowly, but I was attentive to his command because if I showed any hint of being upset, I would be in trouble for that too.