Page 101 of Tragic Empire

“We have a new boy today,” Heather says, her smile dimming slightly. “He hasn’t spoken a word, and we’re still waiting for more information on him. He’s three-years-old from what we know, and so adorable, but he seems so sad.”

My heart gives a sad ache. “Oh no.”

“It breaks my heart. His big eyes are so full of confusion and it’s like he doesn’t hear a word we say. He can physically hear just fine but he won’t respond or even try to speak on his own without prompting.”

“Well, we’re here to volunteer for a few hours. Maybe we can get him to open up. Is there anything you all need help with today or is it just activities and free time?”

“Oh girl, we got the boring stuff covered. Since the donation in your mom’s name—I’m so sorry about your loss, by the way. And the donation you just sent, we’ve been able to keep more staff around and it’s been a huge help. A lot of the money is going directly to the kids as well, of course. We’re replacing some older beds and getting higher priority supplies for them. Gifts, too. It’s been high spirits around here for weeks.”

I soak up the good news, and silently thank Heather for not dwelling on my loss. She knows me well enough to know that I want to focus on the children while I’m here. All of my problems get checked at the door. These kids don’t need sad adults moping around. They need encouragement, love, and fun.

“That’s so good to hear.”

Heather waves us back, allowing us access to one of the main common areas. Children of all ages hang out here during the day. They can play games, explore instruments, make arts and crafts, or just relax while watching movies. There are staff around, keeping a close eye on the youngest of the bunch, and directing any games that others want to play.

I feel instantly fulfilled just walking into the room, witnessing the controlled chaos with a blissful grin.

“Miss. Ana!” a little voice cheers, and my heart soars.

Hearing my name, a little gaggle of precious faces swarm in my direction. I crouch down and greet each and every one of them by name, offering a quick cuddle to the ones who ask and listening to their rapid chatter as they talk over one another, vying for attention.

Once they’ve calmed down, I look up at my husband with a fond smile. “Everyone, this is my husband. Can you all sayhito Mr. Cassio?”

“Hiiiii, Mr. Cassi,” they echo, slurring his unfamiliar name.

“Close enough,” he returns, smiling softly.

“Mr. Cassi, are you a lawyer?” Brennon asks, blinking up at my husband while craning his neck like Cassio is a tower. “You dress like one.”

My hand covers my lips to smother a giggle. Cassio is so far from a lawyer, and I can see the same thought bringing amusement to his eyes.

“I’m a businessman,” he replies, fibbing.

“Ohhhh,” a few voices sound.

A tiny hand fists into his pant leg. “Play?”

“Yeah! Play with us?”

“Okay,” Cassio agrees without hesitation. “What do you want to do?”

For the next two hours, Cassio and I are pulled in every direction. Boys asking him to help build blocks, little girls lining up to have me braid their hair. An older girl asks Cassio to fix her tablet, and somehow he does. We help make crafts, and my husband doesn’t complain when a four-year-old spills blue glitter all over his lap.

It’s absolutely magical.

But one child has my smile dimming every time I see him. He’s been sitting by himself, staring aimlessly around the room, even when I try to approach him to join us. He looks so lost, and I wish I could just jump inside his mind to find out how to help.

Deciding I need to try harder, I excuse myself from a group playing board games and make my way over to his corner.

“Hello,” I say quietly, sitting in the bean bag chair next to him. “Are you okay, little love?”

He turns, blinking at me with confused eyes, but doesn’t answer.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to remain calm. I could burst into tears, seeing how downcast he looks.

Seeking out my husband in the crowd, he meets my eye, like he could feel me searching. He begins to approach when he stalls, sighing. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he looks around and decides to answer the call he’s apparently getting.

“I’ll be quick,” he mouths to me, looking regretful.