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There was no doubt about the fact that Scott loved Melissa. He had always been closer to her than his father, but that wasn't surprising. His father had emotionally checked out of the family long ago. He ran out not long after the first few signs of trouble in their small family. After it was just the two of them, Scott grew even closer to Melissa to make up for his absent father. He may have been a kid, but he could see the toll it took on her. Day after day, she looked more tired, more exhausted. But despite everything they went through, she was always there for him when he needed her.
It didn't take long for the gossips to focus on Melissa and her failed marriage. She wasn't safe even among their own family. Scott and Melissa would head over to his grandmother's house every weekend to touch base with the rest of their family. The gathering soon turned into a lively party as everyone streamed into the small house. Scott would see his aunts making gestures and raising their eyebrows in Melissa's direction when she was far enough to not hear what they said about her. He didn't speak fluent Spanish but the constant "él la dejó," "está sola," "fracaso," didn't go unnoticed. Scott wanted nothing more than to yell at them to leave his mother alone. To yell at them about how strong Melissa was for not breaking down as soon as she became a single mother, how it wasn't her fault, and that they were better off just the two of them because his father wasn't a good man. But he bit his tongue as a sign of respect, despite them not showing Melissa the same courtesy. At the end of the day, he was a child and they were his elders. That was the moment that 8-year-old Scott McCall could actually feel being thrust into adulthood. He decided himself right then that he would love Melissa even more and make her proud to make up for the fact that they didn't have a truly strong support system.
As the years went by, Scott learned how to let the gossip not affect him. Whatever people said would roll off his back because he knew the remarks made about Melissa weren't true. But even though he was older now, 16-years-old, to be exact, the gossip from his family stung more than anything. The same comments were made year after year. The same women boasted about their own marriages and their kid's marriages and how long and beautiful and happy they were. At the end of the night when everyone began gathering their own things to head back to their own homes, Scott and Melissa said their goodbyes. He could feel the lump in his throat growing as they got closer to his aunts. He stood straighter and it was time. They didn't even bother to hide the looks of revulsion on their faces anymore.
"Ella no es un fracaso. No está sola. Me tiene a mi."
In an instant, he felt like his head had been cleared and a thousand pounds had been lifted off his shoulders. Years of their vitriol had been erased. In that moment, he felt he had triumphed over them, while still being respectful. They had nothing on him. He walked out with his arm around his mother's shoulders and with his head held high.
"What was that about?" Melissa asked on their drive back home, her voice as quiet and meek.
"Just doing my job, Mom," he replied while looking at the pavement passing by his window. "Yo soy tu hijo," he said haltingly and in a thick accent, "it's up to me to defend you."
She reached out to grasp his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you," Melissa said and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying in front of him. She had known of her family's feelings towards her and how they placed the blame on her. In a way, she understood that she was the scapegoat, so she almost understood why they acted the way they did. But right then, in her old, beat up car, that moment without a doubt cemented the fact that she wasn't alone, that she was never alone. She had her son, she would always have her son on her side and he loved her. God, did he love her.