Chapter 10 Give Yourself A Chance

“Mateo?” I asked from outside the door after knocking two times. “It’s me, Arianna.”

I was about to knock again because I did not hear any response for a few minutes but then Mateo said, “Come in.”

So I got in and immediately my eyes darted to the boy sitting on the hospital bed. He looked so small in his white hospital gown. There was an infusion tube on one of his hands and underneath his eyes were huge black bags. Those eyes reverted back to the television screen across his bed. He was watching the news.

He couldn’t sleep, I thought.

The couch next to his bed was covered in a blanket. There were a pillow and a big bag full of clothes. They were evident of his mom staying the night. I pointed my head to the couch, asking Mateo with my telepathic ability, ‘Where’s your mom?’

“She’s having her daily fresh air,” the boy said casually.

I knew the code without him telling me. Fresh air means the lady was having her crying break. As a parent figure, she would not want to cry in front of her child. But the child could always tell eventually.

“How about your dad?”

Mateo shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t talk about it.”

I dragged a chair next to his bed and sat down. “Well, what do you know? Another thing we have in common.”

My grey eyes looked at him straight in the eye. His black orbs were just so… devoid. I could tell the boy was tired.

“So, what’s up? I heard you’re hesitating on the procedure?” I asked, “Is there something you’re not clear of?”

It was a simple procedure really. A randomized control trial with two cohorts. The exposure cohort and the control cohort. And since it is a double-blind procedure, both the drug administers and the patients would not know whether they are getting the new drug or the usual regiment.

Too many technical words? In short, Mateo only needed to get an injection of the drug without knowing what it was.

He shook his head. And I saw him fidgeting. He started to bite his lips too.

I’m guessing his mother is crying because Mateo is not ready to get the injection.

“You should take your time, Mateo,” I finally said, “Really think things through.”

“But I don’t have the time to think things through, Ari.” For the first time, he looked exasperated. “My previous doctor gave me six months. This clinical trial is mom’s last hope.”

“Is it not your hope as well?”

His eyes looked at me tearfully.

There should always be a professional boundary between researchers and research subjects. An abnormal relationship would only jeopardize the reports or even results to be biased.

But there are times when you just could not help yourself.

At that time, I could not help myself. I hopped into the bed next to him and hugged him. I took care not to put pressure on his infusion tube as I kissed his forehead.

“Do you ever want to find your dad?” Mateo asked. I knew he was changing the topic. And I let him.

“I did. I was feeling like a detective one day and I tried to find any pictures of him from our old album.” His eyes returned to the TV. “I found several and I pinned them to my wall. Then I made connecting lines between them to declare the timeline the pictures were taken.”

“And?” I switched my eyes to the TV too. A blonde lady in a bob haircut was reading the current weather report.

“Then my mother found out about it and got really angry at me. So I dropped the search. I couldn’t bear to have my mother be angry at me. She was all I had.”

I sensed Mateo turned his head towards me. His eyes were wide in surprise. “Was?”

“She died a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He fidgeted slightly but decided to rest his head comfortably on my chest.

“How does it feel like… losing someone?”

Right at that moment, I noticed the door was opened slightly without a sound. I recognized the eyes peeking through the small space. I nodded at her when our eyes were locked. Mateo’s mom nodded back and decided to close the door again. But through the space underneath the door, I could still see that her shoes were still standing behind the door.

She was listening to us.

“The pain was dull at first. To the point sometimes I could not believe it had happened,” I slowly said. “Then the ache became unbearable for a long period of time. The numbness came in late. But even then, the damage has been done.”

We stayed quiet for a while. Only the blonde news lady was talking.

“Did you… go to a counseling group or something? I heard they can help–“

“Yeah, they’re not really my cup of tea.”

We turned our heads to meet each other’s eyes. The boy seemed to want to ask the reason I didn’t go to group therapy.

I was not stupid. I knew he was asking for his mother’s interest. If he died and her mother was left alone, he wanted to know how she could cope.

“I just… so used to being alone with my mother. It’s weird to go to group therapy and have others taking pry for your story and offering you sympathy.”

But as I knew Mateo’s mother was listening, I raised my voice. “However, there are researches concluding that groups in general help cope with loss better. Groups can increase your level of oxytocin and lower anxiety–“

I stopped when I saw Mateo’s face became dull. “Groups can help with coping,” I summarized. “I just chose a different route to cope with myself.”

“What is that?”

Being a Sugar Baby. Of course, I was not going to mention that scandalous word.

I cleared my throat. “Work. I made myself busy. Anything to spend my time with. Because the moment I had time to even think, my thoughts would spiral and I would crumble. So, I kept asking for more work.”

Work, in a Sugar Baby world, meant being a girlfriend slash listener slash maid slash secretary slash groomer slash sex friend. And in my world, a stock player in the dark.

“My mom and I are pretty much by ourselves too,” he said. “I don’t know what she’ll do when I’m gone.”

“So optimistic.”

“My last doctor did give me six months.”

“So?” I challenged him, “Don’t tell me you’re just gonna wait until your six months is up? Lying on the bed and doing nothing?”

“Mateo. When you’ve given up on yourself, that is true death.” My grey eyes locked with his black eyes. “I will not preach how you should still be grateful, there are others who experience worse than you, blah blah bullshit. Honestly, those kinds of talks make me want to gag too.”

I released my embrace and shook him a little. “But I thought you’re stronger than that.”

“I’m trying Arianna!” A tear fell from one of his eyes. His lips trembled as more tears flowed out. “I’m trying so hard for my mom. I want to keep on living with her. I really do!”

Gently, I wiped his cheeks with my thumb. My chest felt constricted. As if someone had punch all air out of my lungs. I did not like to see a kid crying about death. It’s not something kids should be thinking about.

“Maybe you should start trying for yourself, then,” I said, “Give yourself a chance, Mateo. You deserve a chance in this life.”

His pupils widened at my words though the tears kept on flowing. I gave up in wiping them all and just hugged him. I let him cry to his heart’s content on my shoulder. He thought his mom was nowhere near, so he let out all the tears he had been holding back. I caressed his hair, soothing him as if saying, ‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’

“Will you do the procedure with me?” he asked in between his tears.

“It would be my honor.”

I patted him on his back while blinking the tears from my eye. Trying to distract me from crying, I focused on the TV where headline news just started. The blonde lady was no more, replaced by a pretty brunette with blue eyes. She was saying dramatic stuff to the audience like ‘You’ll never guess what had just happened!’ Obviously, it was just clickbait.

“The international movie star Renald Davis had quite an amazing encounter today,” the brunette said.

That name sounds familiar.

“He asked a girl in front of a Starcups store to be his girlfriend. And this is how she responded.”

Suddenly an amateur video clip was played. There were a lot of women in the video. And though the video was shaky, it was obvious that the main attraction was the only guy and one girl. The girl threw her coffee at the guy–

Something sounded like breaking inside my head.

“Shit!”