The Noise in the Living Room
Mateo heard the commotion before he had removed his hand from the door handle.
At first, he thought something had broken.
Then he heard singing.
He walked quickly toward the living room and stopped.
Rosa was kneeling beside the microphone.
Leo stood barefoot with the red guitar.
Santi sat behind two drums, smiling so widely that his cheeks had turned pink.
Mateo had not seen that expression on either of his sons in two years.
He should have felt relieved.
Instead, fear came first.
The scene was too similar to the life they had shared with Clara. For one painful second, Mateo imagined her sitting at the piano, turning to smile at him.
Then the memory disappeared, leaving only anger behind.
“What is going on?”
The music stopped.
Leo lowered the guitar.
Santi’s hands froze above the drums.
Rosa stood immediately.
“Señor Mateo, I can explain.”
“I told you to keep this house quiet.”
The light vanished from the boys’ faces.
Rosa looked at them, then back at Mateo.
“They were frightened by the storm.”
“So you turned my living room into a concert?”
“I was trying to help them.”
“You were hired to clean this house, not make decisions about my children.”
Rosa’s face became pale, but she did not look away.
“I know.”
“Then put those things away.”
Santi climbed down from the stool.
Leo carefully placed the guitar on the carpet.
Mateo saw their shoulders fall, but his anger would not release him.
Rosa removed her apron.
“I’m sorry I disobeyed you,” she said quietly. “I will leave.”
The boys looked up.
“No,” Leo whispered.
Mateo turned toward him.
Leo’s eyes filled with tears.
“Please don’t send Rosa away.”
Santi moved beside his brother.
“She made the thunder stop.”
Mateo stared at them.
Both boys had spoken willingly.
Not because a therapist had asked them a question. Not because they had been promised a reward.
They had spoken because they cared whether Rosa stayed.
The realization struck him harder than his anger.
