WORN SIDEWALKS FRAMED the streets alongside buildings that bear the marks of all the years past. Facades displaying a mix of faded paint, peeling posters, and stories etched into the walls inside and out. Some of them were made by Santiago’s own hand.

The small shops ran and owned by families from all over the world having brought a piece of their past and rooted it into the neighborhood garden of cultures. Proud displays of wares and every type of cuisine offered a sense of familiarity and warmth to the boy who grew up. The streets were alive with the rhythm of different languages, laughter, and animated conversations.

The park was a place where memories were made, gatherings were had, and children could run and play. Their jubilant laughter echoed off the backdrop of surrounding buildings.

Yet not everything was as he remembered. Weathered doors and layers of dust blanketed what remained of the window panes obscuring the view inside. The forgotten establishment had been envisioned as a safe haven, a place where the young kids could find solace, direction, and escape from the dangers that lurked outside its walls. If only for a little while.

For a time it was. It was within these walls Santiago learned to throw a proper punch. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the boarded up windows casting a dim, melancholic glow upon the decaying interior. The boxing ring, what had once been a place of solace. A place where hunger, poverty, or drugs could not reach him as he lost himself in visions of winning championship belts in front of a cheering crowd. Now stands dilapidated, its ropes frayed and canvas torn.

Heavy bags hang limply, their surfaces worn and weathered from countless rounds of training. Faded posters peel away revealing patches of bare brick. Layers of graffiti from the transient visitors who have sought shelter within these crumbling walls to escape the elements.

Outside the remnants of the old boxing gym rested a collection of photos and withered flowers. Depictions of a young boy's infectious smile carefully arranged, held together by colorful ribbons adorned with heartfelt messages.Beneath the photos, a weathered wooden altar takes center stage. Adorned with personal mementos a soccer ball, a pair of boxing gloves, a stack of books Santiago had read dozens of times. and a collection of rainstained handwritten letters of heartfelt condolences rested underneath the weight of a couple votive candles.

Santiago crouched over the altar flicking through the pages. A peculiar feeling swelled in his chest as he stared at the altar memorializing his death. Notes from teachers, old classmates, former friends, shopkeepers and restaurant owners of his favorite haunts, people all over the neighborhood who have been a fixture in his life growing within the confines of the city reminiscing on memories they shared of him.

As the tears hit the page, Santiago raised his head letting out a long breath. He pocketed the letterers and began to dismantle the altar and dispose of what couldn’t be salvaged.

“You leave that alone!” A gruff voice boomed from the man appearing in the shattered window. Followed by the yowling and bounding of a hound as the pit mix clambered out the door.

The dog came to a screeching halt stiff as a board, only the moist pink nose wiggled as he took a whiff of him. Tail fluttered behind him like a whip as the dog leapt up into the boy's arms yipping and licking every bit of Santiago it could reach.

“Easy Lady, I missed you mamas.” Santiago cradled the dog wriggling so wildly with excitement he could barely maintain the grip.

Santiago recognized the homeless man hastily limping towards him. “Frances, what’s up man?’

Frances gasped, stumbling onto his rear. “Santiago! Are you coming to take me to the other side?”

Santiago chuckled, setting down Lady. “No, you’re not dead and neither am I.”

“Oh, kid I thought they got you.” Behind a tangle of matted hair and overgrown bear the bleary eyes welled with tears.

“They tried.” Santiago said. “What are you doing over here? I was wondering why I wasn’t seeing you two on the block.”

“Damn bastards kept coming to try and take it down outside your place. I took everything. Brought it here.” Frances nodded clearly, quite proud of himself. “I remembered when you were this big—” France beamed as he held up his hand to waist height. “All you boys would come over here to Alex’s place. Used to tell me all about your sparring matches.”

“I appreciate that.” Santiago absently rubbed at the top of Lady’s smooth fur. “You've been holed up here, the weather's turning you should be at the shelter.”

“It’s been hard. The ones that let me take Lady fill up quick around this time of year.” Frances said.

“I got you, man.” Santiago dug in his pocket with the other, “Take that get you guys a room. Get Miss Lady here something tasty.”

Francess nodded tears leaving streaks on the man’s dusty cheeks. The dog gave a soft woof of approval, Santiago knelt to give the tawny dog a hug as she gave a satisfied whine.

Santiago gave the man an encouraging pat. “I’ll be checking on you two soon.”

An unexpected but not unwelcome turn of events had lessened the tension that settled in. His first stop was to meet with an old friend of his mothers, Sydney. She was once upon a time their neighbor in one of the many complexes Santiago had lived in. Syd and his mother were often partying together. Both women had their vices and both women had terrible taste in men. Putting them together in a club was a cocktail for disaster with a guarantee of a three day hangover..

Nestled along a rundown street stood a row of seedy outlet shops. Neon signs flicker sporadically casting an eerie glow on the faded facades. Each establishment is an emblem of indulgence.

At one end a dimly lit liquor store beckons those seeking solace in the embrace of alcohol. Shelves lined with an array of spirits, labels worn and stained from years of neglect. Broken beer bottles litter the sidewalk outside, remnants of hasty indulgence and forgotten nights.

Beside it a smoke shop lures in customers with its garish display of tobacco products and paraphernalia. Window splattered with posters of exotic hookahs and alluring vaping devices in every size, shape, and color. The thick acrid scent of smoke wafted from the place intermingling with the perfume of frying oil and onion of the fast food joint nextdoor.

The hole-in-the-wall fast food joint which offers a greasy respite from hunger. A cramped space filled with the sizzle of fryers and aroma of cheap, hastily prepared food fresh from the freezer.

A disheveled clothing store with a motley assortment of second hand garments. Racks crammed with mismatched and worn-out apparel, colors faded and seams frayed. Not even bargain hunters were brave enough to come there to sift through the disarray among the forgotten garments. Clientele existed entirely of the vagrants or neighborhood families in desperate need of clothing and shoes to carry them through until payday.

Adjacent to the thrift shop was a dimly lit massage parlor with promises of respite from the outside world. A gleaming neon sign advertises “relaxation” and “stress relief”, behind it windows concealed by heavy curtains veiling the secrets within. As he passed the parlor the fragrance from exotic oils crept out from behind the tinted doors.

Rain or shine down these streets there would always be an array of flashily dressed women loitering outside the row of outlet shops. The nearly full parking lot of heavily tinted windows outside the storefronts with nary a soul to be found behind the hazy glass displays spoke to the true nature of this place and the people that frequented it.

Long legs bare in the wintry air, the sequins of her blouse cast a shimmer of turquoise across the pale white of the car door she leaned against. Bleached blonde hair was tucked into a messy hairspray stiffened bun. With the practiced giggle of a woman entertaining a man that was far from amusing Sydney arm rested against the open window of the prospective patron behind the driver's seat.

“Syd.” Santiago said.

Sydney’s electric blue eyes bugged, the length faux lashes nearly brushing her eyebrows. “I don’t—How? — Lupe said— ”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to find her so I can bring her home.” Said Santiago.

“Titi, I missed you baby!” She failed to keep her shrill voice from cracking. Her arms coiled around him eveloping him with the thick sweet citrus of her perfume.

“I missed you too.” He gave the woman a pat.

“I haven’t seen your mama in a hot minute.” She bit her overglossed bottom lip. “I can reach out to some mutual friends to see if they’ve seen her lately.”

Friends. It was a term that was thrown around a lot. As far as Santiago was concerned, if you had to pay them to keep them, they were not really friends. Still Santiago knew if any one would have tabs on his mother it would be here dealers.

“Syd, the fuck you doing. Get back to work.” Andre ordered.

“Sorry baby, this is my friends son—”

“Do I look like I care who the kid is?” He snapped.

“No.” She shook her head, giving Santiago’s shoulder a squeeze. “It was good seeing you. Tell your mom to call me. We can grab dinner or something.”

Santiago nodded, hands tucked in his pockets he ambled up the cracked sidewalk. He brushed shoulders with the older man as he passed, jaw clenched and eyes of hardened mossy agate in a silent challenge.

Andre turned away. He would not raise a hand to Santiago. No, he was a pitiful excuse of a man that would only beat on those that could not fight back.

Santiago could have done it. He did not need a reason to pulverize someone like Andre.

Still it would do more harm than good as insane as it sounded. Santiago could beat the man senseless and despite Andre’s horrible treatment of her, Sydney would crawl back to him. Andre would make her suffer for any hurt Santiago inflicted.

It ate Santiago up inside to do nothing, it went against everything he believed in.

A hard lesson learned was that what he believed did not change reality. The reality was this was the way things were, the way they had always been, and always would be. .

The car door clunked shut behind Sydney.

----------------------------------------

Returning to the apartment for a bite to eat and determining where to look next he was surprised to find Marisol outside their front door. Her arms folded tightly over her chest, her dark brown eyes narrowed as he approached. That was never a good sign.

Marisol was petite in every definition of the word. They used to joke that she stopped growing in the fifth grade, usually earning a round of slaps for all of them in turn. She was five feet even which she proudly proclaimed last year. Slender and strong from her years as a dancer. Small and full of spite enough to keep the lot of oversized hoodlums in line.

“Where is Alejandro?” She said.

“I’m not his keeper.” He said.

“He was supposed to help build my entertainment center.”

“Have your man do it.” Santiago said, knowing good and well she would never ask Jesus. Little fool insisted he could build anything without ever having to look at the instructions. Turning even the simplest projects into a days long endeavor including all the repairs to fix his handiwork.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“He’s not answering anyone’s calls.” She said.

Santiago stopped as he passed through the door way.

Alejo had not been back since last night. After dinner with Jesus and Marisol and the matter with Santiago and Jesus settled, his roommate slipped out in the middle of the night. Santiago did not want to read too much into it. It was not his place to hound him every minute of the day.

Still there was something that had been lingering in the back of his mind. The same tug of anxiety when his mother left home for a trip to the corner store and been gone for a few hours.

“He’ll turn up. He always does.” Santiago busied himself at the counter top grabbing a few slices of bread.

Marisol’s flip flops slapped against her heels as she stomped after him. “You need to go and get him.”

Santiago waved the mayo covered butter knife in her direction.“I don’t need to do anything, he’s a grown ass man.”

“He needs help.”

“I know he does but what do you want me to do if he doesn't want to get right I can’t make him.”

“He does want to get right!” Marisol snapped, “He never would have relapsed if it hadn’t been for—”

“Me dying?” Santiago shrugged, “I’m here now so—”

“It’s not because you died.” She stared at the wall behind him, peachy painted lips set in a dour pout.

That was news to him. Santiago had been certain that was the reason for his relapse and what Jesus and Lola told him was the grief had done the boy in.

Slapping the slice of bread to top off the sandwich he looked to her, “You going to elaborate or I gotta keep fishing.”

“They said it would be better if you didn’t know. That it would just upset you.” Marisol sat poised on the barstool. “I thought you had the right to know.”

What exactly she was getting at Santiago did not know. It was very plausible he missed something important in his time away. He could not imagine something that they would see fit to keep from him that would have driven Alejo back to substances.

“He was miserable. Heartbroke—we all were. He was trying to pull through it. For you, you know.” Her dark eyes were far off as she examined the peeling countertop. “He was trying to look after her. He wanted to make sure she was okay without you there.”

The blood ran from Santiagao’s face. Before she even said it he knew. His mother.

It had crossed his mind before why no one knew where she was. Admittedly it hurt him to think his friends had just abandoned her once he was gone but he accepted it. She was no one's responsibility except his own.

Of course Alejo would have stepped in. She was like a mother to him too.

He did not want to believe it. Did not want to think she would do something like that after how hard it was for the boy to quit after so many years.

Misery loves company.

“She got him to use it again. We tried to talk to him. He wouldn’t listen. Alejo was so insistent he had to make sure she was okay.” Mariso shook her head, “He’s not like you Santiago. Waving that stuff in his face he was going to crack eventually she knew that.”

Santiago knew what she said was true. Guadalupe had made many mistakes while she was so far gone on whatever cocktail of substances she had in her system. She was how he got his first taste of it. Normal parents taught their kids how to ride a bike, change a car tire, and open a bank account. His mother taught him how to roll a joint, to snort a line, and how to tie a tourniquet.

Santiago never took to it like she did. He did not like the feeling of being out of his own head.

The few times he did was not because he wanted to get high. He just wanted to feel closer to her.

Santiago buried his face in his hands. “FUCK!”

His fist split the cabinet door in half. The loosely glued in shelf fell to the bottom sending a cascade of plastic seasons rolling across the floor.

Marisol said nothing only watched him behind heavy dark lashes. “I’ll be in the car when you’re ready.”

Alejo was a lot easier to find than his mother. Guadelupe had the gift of beauty and charisma. She was able to charm her way into the hearts of strangers. It got her into exclusive clubs, free drinks, and a lot of gifts from admirers.

Alejo was not by any means a social butterfly. He had a small friend group and made no efforts to add to it. The boy had a hard time trusting people and for good reason. His time on the streets taught him that the only person he could rely on was himself.

Still Santiago knew when Alejo was down and out where he would go to lick his wounds. He would never understand the correlation between drug addicts and their toxic exes.

Santiago knocked on the door.

A little boy answered with a scowl pants were torn from roughhousing, once white shoes were a graying brown laces askew, his dinosaur shirt covered in an assortment of stains. The stench of cigarette smoke and weed wafted through the open door. He could hear the raucous screaming of other children and the cries of a baby over the blaring music.

“Where’s your ma?” Santiago said.

The boy looked him over leaving the door wide open as he stopped back into the house. “MA THERE'S A GUY AT THE DOOR!”

Gabirella appeared in the doorway the sobbing baby on her hip. Hair pinned up in a loosely pinned bun stray. Her tank top rolled over the distended pregnant belly.

“Santiago, I heard you were back.” Her scowl melted as she spotted him, “You look good.”

“Hey Gab’s, that little Alana?” Santiago smiled at the teary eyed baby, “Hi mamas, you got so big.”

Gabriella handed him the girl with a sigh of relief. “She is on one today. I about had it with these damn kids.”

“Then maybe stop having them hoe.” Santiago laughed, as she flipped him off. He bounced Alana in his arm making the baby giggle with delight.

She slumped on to the worn sofa, littered with dark spots and cigarette burns. “He’s upstairs sleeping it off.”

“He didn’t cause of a fuss did he.” Santiago knew that there were plenty of things that could go wrong when both Alejo and Gabrielle were in a room together sober or not. What he did not care for was neither one of them cared about showcasing their problems in front of the kids.

“No, just turned up drunk and crying talking ‘bout he misses me and he loves me.” She rolled her eyes, “The usual bullshit.”

“He high?”

She tilted her hand to say so-so, “Not on his usual. Probably some benzos. He’s been buying them off my mom.”

“I’ll take care of him.” Santiago nodded, “Otherwise, you good?”

“Oh baby, when you’re around I’m golden.” She blew a kiss at him.

Santiago handed her a few bills. “Get them some damn winter clothes. Running around like it’s the middle of summer. It’s November.”

“Si Papi chulo,” She laughed as he flipped her off, trotting up the steps.

Marisol had launched into her usual tirade about how irresponsible he was before the boy had even clambered into the back. In the car Alejo groaned, squinting against the daylight from where he slumped in the backseat. Santiago smirked through the rearview mirror as his friend shrunk away from the shrill voice.

“Should have known you would be at that messy house!” Marisol scoffed, her face twisted in disgust. “How that girl still manages to have half the neighborhood lining up at her door is beyond me.”

“Well it ain’t for her personality.’” Santiago chuckled.

“You’re disgusting and I hate you.” She shook her head. “Now, you better be here when I come tomorrow Alejo or I swear to god—”

“Alright, alright. I promise, I’ll be here.” He waved her off, eyes still straining under the shade of his hood.

Alejo collapsed onto the sofa growned into the cushions. “Man, you suck.”

“Hey it was either me or you and it wasn’t gonna be me so,” Santiago threw his jacked across the back of the recliner. “Sp when exactly were you gonna tell me you knew where my mom was?”

Alejo stiffened, he took a moment before he sat upright. “Sorry, I guess I was hoping I could get her presentable beforehand.”

“Guess she hasn’t been cooperative.”

Alejo’s eyes were wide with a terse smile, “I see where you get your stubborn ass shit from that's for sure. I’ve been trying to tell her you’re back but anytime I try to talk about you she flips out.”

“She’s never really been good at dealing with things.” Apparently it was genetic, Santiago thought. “I’ll deal with her. But first, what’s going on with you?”

“With me? Nothing.” Alejo said.

“You on pills now from what Gabby said.”

“Gabs needs to stop running her mouth.” Alejo groaned.

“You can’t cure one addiction with another Alejo.”

“I know that.” Alejo snapped, “It’s just too much sometimes. I need something to take the edge off.”

“Look I’m not going to sit here and try to tell you how to deal with your shit. If I had the answer to that my mother wouldn’t be running the streets.” Santiago said, “I worry about you man. You’re my brother. With everything going on. I need you in my corner. So whatever you need from me you got it. You got me and I got you.”

Alejo let out a shaky breath. “I don’t think I can do it cold turkey. That shit was getting rough. I can’t do rehab.”

“You did good with NA. I think you should reach out to your old sponsor.”

Alejo hung his head.

“He’s been through this shit a hundred times man, he’s not gonna judge for this shit.”

“I know. I just hate it. I thought I was past this shit. I’ve been clean for 3 years.” Alejo clenched his eyes shut tightly, inhaling deeply. “Now I’m back at square one.”

Santiago nodded, “I could go with you.”

“You want to sit in a meeting with a bunch of dopeheads crying about their problems?”

“Nah, but I’ll go if it makes it easier.” Santiago said, “I’ve been doing the therapy shit. Sometimes it helps to get it out.”

“Therapy. You've been going to therapy?” Alejo failed to stifle the laugh. “I mean I know you’ve been ordered by the court to go to anger management but like therapy, therapy.”

“Yeah, no one was as surprised as I was. Thompson, uh, he’s been helping me work through some shit.”

“Like freaking dying.”

Santiago laughed, “That among other things. It’s been a lot. Dying, these powers, my mom, and my dad.”

“Your dad.” Alejo tilted his head.

“Been learning a lot about him lately. Hasn’t all been good. He wasn’t who I thought he was.” Santiago shrugged, “Not sure how I feel about that.”

“I can’t really help you fix things with your pops, at least not without a ouija board. I can help you with your moms though.”

For now, Santiago knew that was going to have to be enough.

The outside of the once proud structure bore the scars of time and abandonment. Cracked windows, boarded-up entrances, and crumbling bricks told the tale of a home being left behind and forgotten.

Faded graffiti adorned the walls, a lingering stench of urine and mold in the air. Discarded needles, empty bottles, and trash were scattered down the length of the hallway.

Darkness enveloped him, pierced only by the dull glow from upstairs.

Down the halls he could see that candles and dull electric lanterns provided the only sources of illumination. Makeshift beds of worn-out mattresses and tattered blankets were scattered throughout the rooms.

Flipped the covers over a few. Bleary and bloodshot eyes looked at him without really seeing.

Guadalupe was laid up in a broken recliner arm still resting limply on the rest with the makeshift tourniquet hanging loosely.

Santiago pressed his fingers to her throat finding a pulse, slow and erratic. It was enough to ease the tightness in his chest. He folded her arms into her lap to lift her.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Vic?”

“No ma, it’s me.” Santiago murmured as he cradled her head in one hand.

“No,” Lupe shook her head pressing back into the torn cushion away from his touch. “It can’t be.”

“I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense right now. I promise I’ll explain. I just need you to let me take you home.” He leaned in not flinching when the hand came across his face.

“No! You’re not. You’re not. My baby is gone. He’s gone.” She wailed, “Stay away from me!”

Santiago gripped her arms firmly and pulled her up as she flailed futilely in his grasp. Hefted her up over his shoulder she shrieked and clawed at the walls as he carried her out.

“Great.” He hissed seeing the flash of lights as he reached the yard. He closed his eyes against the harsh light.

“Sir, I’m going to ask that you set the lady down and put your hands up.” Said the officer.

“This is my mother. I’m taking her home.” Santiago motioned with one hand, “As you can see, she is not well.”

His partner looked at him, “We’ve received a call about vagrants in the area.”

“You’ll find plenty of them in there.” Santiago replied.

“We’re going to need to check out your story, put the lady down.” Said the first officer again.

“She’s going to run. You realize that.”

“We’ll handle it.” Said the officer.

Santiago smiled tightly, shifting her weight and he set her on her feet. The officer nearest lightly took her upper arm.

Lupe was a sobbing shaky mess.

“Ma’am do you know this man?”

“No! He’s trying to take me! He’s not my son!” Lupe screeched.

“For fucksake.” Santiago rubbed his head.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands up and turn around.”

Santiago did as he was told, the cuffs clicking tight around his wrists. The first officer guided him to the car, closing the door.

One stood and talked to his mother while the other went inside to investigate.

The officer with his mother leaned into her radio and caught a message from her partner about the mess inside. The lady officer had turned her attention away to call into the radio requesting more help to deal with the others inside not noticing Guadalupe as she slunk away.

Santiago hollered through the glass his shoulder bumped the door.

The officer looked back annoyed, then to where the boy was pointedly trying to direct her attention.

“Ma’am! I’m going to need you to—! Ma’am” The officer ran as Guadalupe broke into a sprint.

The cop chased her down the street for a few blocks before she lost Lupe. Her breath fumed white as the officer caught her breath.

Walking back, she made her way to the car. The door hung open the unlocked handcuffs laid on the asphalt.

She threw her arms up in disbelief at her partner who came upon the scene.