“Antonio! It’s time for dinner!” The voice came from downstairs, but because Antonio’s room was the first one on the second floor, the voice was loud and clear. Antonio regretted choosing the room facing the stairs, even though at that time he knew he would be able to hear everything, being the winner of the mathematics and science Olympiad, the finalist in the Science bowls, and considered a genius by his friends, school, and principal. The voice called again. It was his mother.

Antonio was slouching on the unmade bed, clothes strewn everywhere. He had headphones in, listening to the music, but he could still hear his mother’s voice. His fingers found the long narrow button, and turned the volume up.

“Antonio, honey, can you hear me?”

He cursed silently to himself. He calculated how much louder the volume needed to be. The volume went up even higher. There was a slight knock on the door. A pause. Another knock. He rolled his eyes, Why won’t they just stop bothering me? His mother walked in, carrying a tray with a plate filled with salad, pasta, and fries, with a side of chocolate cake and orange juice. She thought she would find him at his desk with his calculator and Mathematics Olympiad book, but when she walked in, both the chair and desk were empty. Her shoulders sagged, face drooped with disappointment once again. She turned 180 degrees around, and found her 16 year old son on his bed, playing on his computer, with his headphones in. She sighed and waited at the foot of the bed for her son to acknowledge her presence.

Antonio’s face turned from expressionless to a full on glare at his mother, complete with an eye roll and frown.

“I’m not hungry. Leave me alone.”

His mother closed her eyes and breathed heavily. Then without a word, she slipped out of his room, and closed the door.
***********

It was a dreary October day. Antonio stepped into the grey building thinking it was going to end up like last summer’s volunteering. Three days a week, five hours a day. Easy simple hours. But the second he stepped in, he saw a long, poorly lit hallway with doors leading down the narrow pathway. The first door on his right said Office. Across the hallways were the bathrooms, and every door after that was named a number. Next to every number were 10-12 names. Antonio didn’t think much of it as he stepped into the room labeled “Office.” Inside, an elderly woman by the name of Ernie smiled when he came in.

“Hi there! You’re early. Follow me, I’ll show you what you’ll be doing.”

She led him to the kitchen, where there were already two other people chopping vegetables and brewing soup.

“You’ll be helping them serve the orphans. Just do what they tell you, and you’ll be just fine. Be here by 10 every day, and by around 3 most of the work will be done anyway, so you can go home then. Wear work clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty.”

Antonio nodded, a bit overwhelmed.

***********

The following day, Antonio stepped into the kitchen, ready for his first day at work. He put on an apron and did whatever he was told. He washed the dishes, he sliced the carrots, he watched the soup boil. As his eyes started drooping at the sight of the bubbles in the pot and the watery smell of the cabbage clouded his brain, a shrill sound pierced through his head and immediately woke him up. He looked around him. Nobody looked like they heard it. All of them continued with their preparation. Then, in the upper right corner of the building he noticed a flashing red light. It was a loud red bell, which rang at exactly noon. The lunch bell. The bell rang once. Twice. Three times. Two minutes later, children ranging from the ages of 5 to 18 years started filing in one by one. All of them wore the same clothes; the brown T shirt and faded khakis paired with black tennis shoes. They started at the beginning of the lunch line. Each took a plate and walked down the counter calmly, expressionless. They received a tiny portion of food that all looked the same. Some watery soup, a glob of vegetables mashed into potatoes, and half a sausage. They then had a choice of butter or mayonnaise to go on their slice of bread. The children were quiet, they didn’t speak when they ate, nor when they finished. Each had a sad look in his or her eyes. As he served them the potatoes, Antonio suddenly realized that all of them lived here, in the rooms down the hallway that he saw on the first day he came here. The names on their doors were theirs. There were 10-12 names per room. All of them had no family, most were illiterate, and all of them only took classes when the orphanage had enough money to hire teachers. This was their home.

He looked guiltily at his hundred dollar headphones and outfit. He had tried to find work clothes, but he just really didn’t have any. He had just seen their dirty scrawny uniforms and skimpy food portions. Antonio didn’t know what to think. Half of him felt ashamed and wanted to just leave. They didn’t deserve this. They were all innocent. As these thoughts ran through his head, he tried to focus back on the task at hand. He took a breath, scooped up some potatoes, and looked up. He met the blue eyes of a young girl, about seven or eight years old. The little girl smiled shyly, her eyes taking in the cleanness of Antonio. She was a pretty girl, bound to be absolutely stunning in ten years. Her blond hair was tied up in two pieces of string, and there was a dirt track on the side of her chin. Her shirt was torn, and her pants were too short. But there was something different about her than the other kids. Antonio didn’t quite figure it out at first. As she looked up again though, he realized. She had a certain sparkle to her smile, and her eyes weren’t dull and gloomy. She, unlike the others, made the best out of her home and her life.

He handed back her the plate of food, now with a scoop of potatoes, and saw a small movement at her mouth. The words Thank you were formed. She turned around, and walked quietly away.

Antonio felt moistness in the back of his eyes. He quickly served out the rest of the food, and at the end of the day, as he took off his apron, he knew what he needed to do.
********

As he drove home, Antonio tried rehearsing the words he would say to his mother when he got back home. He would say thank you, first of all. Then he would say how much he loved her, and how much he appreciated everything he had. He wouldn’t be embarrassed, and smiled when he pictured the way his mother’s face would light up.

Antonio walked into the kitchen, where his mother would usually be making dinner, yet she wasn’t there that day. There was an eerie feeling in the house, but Antonio assumed that she was taking a nap. Right as he was about to go into her room, he remembered. He quickly sprinted into his room, and changed into a blue and freshly pressed collared polo shirt and slacks. He left his headphones and phone in a drawer, cleaned up his room, and closed his computer. Then he quietly slipped into the bathroom to comb his hair.

Yet the second he finished with his hair, he looked into the mirror and saw something new in himself. He just wasn’t the same anymore. He remembered the little girl, and he knew that she changed his life. He was excited to see how proud his mother would be of him. She would probably be so happy that she would make his favorite chocolate cake for him. He regretted not eating it on the days she did make it. She always did when she wanted to cheer him up. She would make the kind from scratch, the kind that only she could make.

“Thanks mom, for everything.” He practiced to himself in the mirror. He took a breath, and walked into the kitchen. He sat down the table and waited for his mother to wake up.

As the day turned to night, the butterfly feeling in his stomach refused to go away. Antonio sat at the table and waited. His father usually came home late on weekdays, so he didn’t expect his father to come home soon. But as time went one, he became restless. An hour later, he still didn’t hear the noises of his mother waking up from her nap. He decided to go check on her. He tiptoed down the hallway and gently opened her door. The ray of light snuck into her room and lighted up half the room. It was empty. So was the other half. He walked into her bedroom. The bed was empty. So was the bathroom, the living room, and her sewing room. His mother wasn’t in the house.

At that moment, he heard a ding dong from the front of the house. He breathed out in relief. There she was. She probably went over to a friend’s house and forgot to bring her keys. He jogged out to the front door and opened it. He was about to joke to her about forgetting her keys more than him when he realized it wasn’t her.

Standing outside was two policemen. They had distant looks in their eyes. One of them asked if he was Antonio Smith. The other had his thumb in his pocket.

Both refused to look him in the eye.
*********

No. He refused to believe it. No.

They made a mistake.

There were plenty women out there who looked like his mother. That wasn’t a surprise. His mother’s type was very typical. Blond, long hair, motherly.

Many also drove the same red Toyota.

The policemen droned on about the incident, but Antonio’s head was blank. He forced himself to think.

No. It was not his mother in that car. His mother did not get hit by a drunk driver. She did not fly through the windshield and cut her head. She did not bleed to death as the man drove away. She couldn’t have. There was so much she still didn’t know.

He no longer had those butterflies in his stomach.

Instead, he was numb. He was numb when they gently guided him into the police car.

When they drove him to the car wreck scene.

He was numb as he saw the flashing red and blue.

As he heard the screeching sounds.

He was numb until he saw him. His father. Sprinting. Face contorted. Shirt tail flying.

And then he understood. His heart exploded into a billion pieces. A cry escaped from his throat as he bent double over. Tears streamed down his face as he screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

There were people around him. People comforting him. Touching him. Talking to him. His fingers gripped into the seat, as his whole body shook with the grief. Everyone tried to calm him down. But he didn’t hear them. He didn’t see them. Because he understood. That butterfly feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t because he was excited. It wasn’t because he knew his mother would be thrilled. It was because he knew that something was wrong.
********

It felt like decades until his heart throbbed a little less. Until his movements weren’t forced. They told him to meet his father. He was at the red car taking out all of the contents inside his mother’s red car. There were her purse and groceries lying scattered in the back seat. Antonio reached in and grabbed a plastic bag without noticing it. As he walked over to his father’s car, the bag ripped, and the contents of the bag scattered onto the ground.

Flour. Cocoa powder. Half and half. Eggs. Sugar. Milk. Vanilla extract.

Chocolate cake.