Not having expected things to fall apart so quickly, the room was stunned to a silence. Except for one man…
Slowly, the president started clapping his hands as the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger. After he was done applauding Alicia’s gusto, he reached out and pointed his finger at me before speaking loud and clear; berating his ministers and advisors for what he considered unforgivable rudeness. “This is my son’s friend! Understand?! Unconditional support for him! Unconditional support!”
The old man seemed a little senile, but that didn’t diminish his stature among these people. Everyone on the other side of the table quickly took their instruction, without even a whiff of resistance. With the order given, they would give us whatever we wanted. No strings attached.
It seemed El Presidente liked me because of the way I treated his son all those years ago…
I wish I could say I went toe-to-toe with Felix’s bullies and beat them back. I wish I’d helped him adjust and gave him answers when he needed them most. But that wasn’t what happened.
No, what I did for Felix was far less remarkable and not at all heroic.
His first week at boarding school was hell. Teachers and students alike detested him for who his father was. Girls mocked him because his teeth were a little crooked. Boys pointed out that he’s a bastard who doesn’t know his own mother.
Felix was told he doesn’t belong there and he was made to feel it… They hazed him harshly, even though hazing was forbidden and most of us never endured it. The teachers looked the other way and even the cooks spat in his food.
Perhaps his father’s sins meant Felix deserved it, but I judged the man based on his own merits — not on his father’s biography.
We shared a room from the beginning: two twin beds in a large suite that shared a bathroom with only two other rooms. On his third night, I heard Felix cry. Until then, I hadn’t paid much attention to him. My plan at school was to keep my head down and get back to taking care of my sisters, and not to get involved in other people’s fights.
That night, I found Felix sitting on the floor clutching his pillow and crossing his legs to hide his stained pants…
He’d wet his bed out of fear and depression — anxiety and uncertainty. When I asked him what happened, he couldn’t even put together a sentence, but I saw the way he held his pillow… The same way I’d seen Elle hold hers when she was a little baby, crying over a missing teddy bear.
Knowing the cleaners would find the urine-stained blankets and the rumour would spread, I had to make a plan. Felix was already pushed to his limit and more ridicule would surely have killed the poor kid. There was no chance of me sneaking down to the laundry, so I had to think of something else.
I swapped our sheets so they thought it was me who wet the bed. Sure, I caught hell for it, but it lasted two weeks before blowing over (and I could take it on the chin).
When I’d been sent to Switzerland, little Elle gave me one of her soft toys as a going away present. The next evening, I retrieved it from my closet and gave it to Felix. I told him, “Real men don’t give a shit about what people think. They do what they need to do to survive and make their families proud. I’m not going to judge you for crying, or pissing your bed, or for needing a teddy bear. I won’t think you’re less of a man, and I’ll keep your secret.”
Felix asked teenage-me how I knew about being a ‘real man’ and I told him I learnt from having to fill my father’s shoes. In truth, I was young and didn’t have a clue. Still, what I’d done and said really made an impression on him and clearly he’d told his father at least some of it.