Almeida narrowed his eyes, licking his slightly chapped lips as he looked north. Following his gaze, no more than a mile away, stood a church that seemed small from the boy's position.
The boy's eyes twitched with a subtle movement. He clicked his tongue before speaking to himself, "What is in there?" The cold wind tossed his hair from side to side.
Yellowish grass covered all the visible land, reaching up to Almeida's ankles. The church in the distance had a cross almost half the size of the structure resting on top of its cone shaped thatched roof. The building itself was round, built with mud and stones stacked like bricks, and the coat of white paint that had been applied over it was facing decay.
Almeida took a step north, his eyes bright. He hid his hands inside his pants pockets before taking a second step, and just as he took the third step, his mind caught a strange sound.
"Bbrrzzz..."
"What?" the boy narrowed his eyes before stopping his advance. "Bbrrzz, Bbrrzz," he clicked his tongue almost by instinct.
At that moment, a desire planted itself in his brain like a weed. The desire settled and began to exert its small, newly gained influence, "Bbrrzz."
Almeida brought a palm to his chest suddenly. "It hurts..." he muttered, looking down at his feet and the yellowish grass swaying in the wind. He raised his head and unconsciously took another two steps north.
"Mister Esteban always said that chest pain means a girl is thinking about you, hehehe." The boy smiled, unknowingly taking four steps north. "Or was it Mister Jhon?" He shook his head, unable to remember.
Just as Almeida was about to take another step.
"Almeida!!!"
"Almeida!!!"
His mother's familiar, high pitched voice rang out in the distance. The boy suddenly opened his eyes wide, stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around to look towards the wooden fenced hut where he lived with his mother.
"Mom." Almeida broke into a smile. Muscle memory made his body move in little skips rather than steps, and in less than 10 seconds, he was near the wooden fence.
"Mom!!!" he shouted, though it was not necessary. Before he even finished yelling, a woman with smooth skin, long black hair tied in a ponytail, and a cheerful face, wearing a simple brown tunic and a black apron, came out of the hut.
The woman, Alejandra, wore the spitting image of her son's smile on her face. She looked at him, blinked a couple of times before letting out a high pitched "Hmmhehehe." Alejandra's eyes traced the path her son had taken; the footprints he left in the grass would not yield to the cold afternoon wind.
It did not take long for her gaze to land on a specific set of footprints, the ones furthest from their hut, the ones pointing toward the church.
Alejandra breathed rapidly for a second. She felt her skin crawl as she bit her lower lip. Then, she turned her gaze back to her son, examined him from head to toe, and the smile returned to her face.
"Almeida, you are here. Come, come inside, it is time for dinner," the mother's voice fought against the sound of the wind for a moment. The boy quickly opened the gate in the wooden fence, locked it, and ran inside the hut, his smile uninterrupted even for a second.
The woman took a deep breath once before entering the hut and closing the wooden door behind her.
Inside was a home for two people in a space no larger than 20 square meters. Two mattresses made of straw and covered with linen were off to one side. On top of those mattresses were quilts made of a similar linen.
In the center sat a modestly sized table holding a large clay bowl covered with a clay lid, and two opposing chairs. In the remaining space were several sealed pots with something unknown inside.
Alejandra let out a soft sigh. The only light source inside the hut was a candle on the table, its flame dancing gently.
Almeida did not wait even a moment. He sat on the chair near the bowl and rested his arms on the table, his eyes shining with the reflection of the flame.
"You have been playing outside too much lately. Maybe I should put you to work one of these days. After all, you are at that age, right?" Alejandra said in a neutral tone, a smile showing her white teeth on her face.
"Hmph..." Almeida let out a light snort, looking in his mother's direction before smiling. "Work?" His smile grew even brighter. "Yeah, actually, I can work." The boy straightened up in his chair, rolled up the sleeves of the gray linen shirt he was wearing, and showed off an underwhelming right bicep.
"Hahaha!!!" The woman's laughter echoed inside the hut. She stepped closer, poked that bicep that was as soft as a baby's cheek with the tip of her index finger, and shook her head.
"No, no, no. Boy, this is not even enough to pick up twigs from the forest," Alejandra sighed as she lowered her head, which made Almeida grit his teeth.
"Well, anyway, I do not need any help, kiddo." Alejandra moved her right hand to lift the clay lid off the bowl, revealing a steaming stew with vegetables of all colors cut into tiny pieces, and some kind of green herb in the center along with floating chunks of meat.
Almeida was stunned for a moment. He breathed in the mixed air, the blend and result of a stew rich in all kinds of vegetables, carbs, and meat. His mind lingered on that smell while his face, once restless, could not quite process exactly what was in front of him.
"Beef and vegetable stew..." he muttered under his breath.
"Beef and vegetable stew," Alejandra repeated, lightly tapping the table with her fingertips. She smiled and focused her gaze on her son. "Happy birthday, Almeida," her voice escaped with a hint of anticipation.
"Birthday?" Almeida suddenly felt a bit tired. His birthday would not be celebrated until August, and it was still January. The boy shook his head for a moment before lifting it.
"Mom, are you okay?" he wanted to ask, but seeing his mother's cheerful, accommodating face, the words got stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth and closed it, trying to say something, but in the end, only a "Thank you" came out.
"Beef and vegetable stew, your favorite. I remember you always used to tell me to make beef and vegetable stew when your father was here..." Alejandra sat on the opposite side of the table smiling, grabbed her glass of water with her right hand, and began to take sips from it.
The boy lowered his head. "That is true," he muttered. However, he suddenly rubbed his hands together. "So, why bring up Dad all of a sudden?" Almeida asked in a low voice. "He just left one day to the next, right?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked up.
Yet, contrary to what he expected, his mother, Alejandra, just kept looking at him with a smile, sipping some water every now and then.
"Mom?" the boy asked. "Yes?" she replied. "Did you hear what I said?" "..."
There was no response from his mother. She tilted her head for a moment before smiling. "Yes, you thanked me for the stew. Now, I prefer actions over words, so why do you not eat instead of just saying thanks?" She took another sip of water.
Almeida stayed there, motionless for a moment. "Maybe I spoke too softly," he told himself. He picked up a spoon from his table, ready to dive into a delicious dinner, when he stopped in an instant.
A slight sting in his heart stopped him dead in his tracks. The boy focused his eyes on his mother's side of the table, clicked his tongue imperceptibly before speaking, "Are you not going to eat?"