Three days passed, each one feeling lengthier than the last. Marty had left the house, and Mia felt more overwhelmed with each passing hour.
Since the dispute, Ricky asked her several times if he was responsible for Marty's departure.
She reassured him each time, but he was hard-pressed to believe what she said. At night, he cried in his room, calling for his father.
"Marty, when are you coming back?" Mia called once again, "We need help. I need help. A good family man would have not abandoned his family..."
Marty stayed silent, letting Mia vent her emotions. He wanted to say he would come home, but it was false.
He was weak. He could not be a good family man like she wanted. He was just a man who could not keep up with his wife's demands and his son's tantrums. He had tried, though.
"Sorry." That was all Marty could say as he hung up the phone. He needed time to process his feelings and get over them. How long it would take was unknown. He didn't want to give them false hope.
Mia broke down, holding the phone, her future uncertain. She had no one to talk to. She could only spend all day every day taking care of Ricky.
She had always been a fighter. When things went wrong, she always found a solution. She never thought being alone would be hard as she always had support.
For the first time, she felt loneliness, and she was unsure she could keep going. Tears streaked down her face. She lay down on the bed, silencing her sobs with a pillow.
Ricky, behind the closed door, listened to her cry. He shook as he tried his best to control his emotions. Contrary to what his mother said, he knew he was responsible for his father's departure. No one loved him. It was just a matter of time before his mother also hated him.
He moved mechanically towards his room. As soon as he passed the threshold, he screamed and overturned everything.
Even though Mia heard, she didn't move. For once, she felt like doing nothing. In a daze on her bed, Mia felt lost. She had no idea how to go on. Mia had no family, and neither did Marty.
She had no friends left—some she alienated on purpose; most chose to distance themselves when Ricky learned to walk. The last friend she had refused to speak to her since Ricky's eighth birthday party. Even doctors were helpless.
Suddenly, panic overwhelmed her as silence stretched into the house. She ran out of her room. She went to find Ricky. She didn't care about the mess in his room. She wanted to see her son.
"Ricky!" She called him but received no answer.
She went from room to room. Ricky was nowhere to be found. Mia had looked everywhere she could think of. Exhausted and overwhelmed, she broke down crying while still calling her son.
"Ricky! Ricky!" Her cries echoed in the house.
It felt like a long time went by. Ricky stood in front of her, watching her with a blank stare.
"Ricky!" She took him in her arms. "Where have you been?"
He didn't answer. He just stayed motionless. His eyes were red like he had been crying, even though no trace of tears appeared.
"It's okay, honey. Everything will be alright. We'll be fine." Mia kept repeating, not sure who she was reassuring. Her son stared intently at something behind her, but she didn't notice.
A small smile appeared on the boy's face. It was fleeting, like a mirage. He huddled in her embrace, not saying anything.