Boy Next Door

MATEO 

Wow, it was morning again. Sunlight slipped through the curtains and fell across my face. I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head, hoping I could steal a few more minutes of sleep then came the knock.

“Mateo, it’s time for morning prayer.” I sighed beneath the blanket. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

I’m from a religious family. And not just any religious family, my father is a priest.

Sometimes, I wonder if people realize how tiring that can be.

Everyone expects me to be well-behaved because I’m the priest’s son. Parents at church often use me as an example for their children. Some of the younger kids even come to me for advice, as if I somehow have my whole life figured out. I’m only in Grade 11.

I finally dragged myself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, still half asleep. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I made my way downstairs.

My family was already gathered in the living room. My little sister, Lucía, was kneeling beside my mother. She was in Grade 2 and somehow managed to look completely awake at this hour, I knelt beside them, folded my hands, and bowed my head.

Soon, we began our morning prayer. When we finished, everyone immediately started moving around the house. Since it was the weekend, we had things to prepare before going to church. My father had his duties, while the rest of us helped organize and clean what needed to be done.

I was carrying a box toward the window when I heard the sound of a car outside. I stopped.

A moving truck had pulled up beside the house next door.

“Oh,” I muttered, new neighbors. I set the box down for a moment and peeked through the window, it looked like only two people were moving in, a man and his son.

The father was busy talking to someone near the truck, while his son stood beside the car, looking around at the neighborhood then the boy looked up.

I froze. His eyes were blue, not just ordinary blue, either. They seemed almost impossibly bright beneath the morning sunlight. He had fair skin and long, light coloured hair that fell around his face.

I stared for a second longer than I should have. There was something about him that immediately caught my attention, I didn't even realize I was still staring until

“Mateo?”

I jumped. My mother was standing behind me. “What are you doing over there?”

“N-Nothing.” I quickly turned away from the window and picked up the box again. “I was just looking outside.”

My mother gave me a confused look before returning to what she was doing. I carried the box across the room, pretending to be busy but my eyes kept drifting back toward the window.

The boy was still outside. I didn't know his name nor know where he came from and I certainly didn't know why I couldn't stop looking at him.

All I knew was that our new neighbor had arrived and somehow, I already had a feeling that my quiet little routine was about to change.

Soon, we were ready to leave for the church. It was the weekend, which meant we had several activities to help with before the service the next day. I followed my family outside and headed toward the car.

As soon as I stepped out, I noticed my father talking to the new neighbor. The two men were laughing together as if they had already known each other for years, beside them stood his son. Nikolai.

I looked at him again his style was different from what I was used to seeing around here. His long hair framed his face, and the way he dressed was noticeably more fashionable and expressive than most boys at our school. He didn't seem bothered by it, he simply stood there, looking completely comfortable with himself.

My mother came up beside me. “I think we should talk to them,” she said quietly. “Perhaps we can encourage them to come to church and accept Jesus.”

I sighed. “Mom, please,” I muttered. I didn't want to start an argument, so I walked toward the car and opened the trunk.

Behind me, I heard my father speaking. “My name is Father Rafael,” he said warmly. “I'm the priest here, and I run the church nearby. We'd be very happy to have you and your son join us tomorrow.” My hands stopped for a moment. Tomorrow?

I glanced over my shoulder. Nikolai was still standing beside his father, a small smile appeared on my face before I could stop it.

I quickly turned away. Unfortunately, Lucía noticed, she gave me a suspicious side-eye. “What?” I asked but she said nothing and just kept staring at me. I rolled my eyes and went back to the trunk.

A few moments later, my father walked over and got into the driver's seat. “Oh, Mateo,” he said as he started the car. “I almost forgot. Our new neighbor's name is Gabriel, and his son's name is Nikolai.”

“Nikolai,” I repeated quietly.

My father nodded. “I've already invited them to church tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

For some reason, I smiled again. I looked through the window one last time. Nikolai was standing outside with his father, the sunlight catching his long hair as he spoke.

I quickly looked away when he turned in our direction. The car began to move with the hope that tomorrow, I'd see him again.

The car continued down the street, the familiar houses passing by the window as we headed toward the cathedral.

For a while, nobody said anything then my mother spoke. “Mateo, you'll help choose the chorus today.” I looked up. “Why me?”

She glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Because you're the priest's son. You're supposed to set the standard. You need to show everyone how upright you are.”

There it was again, the priest's son. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.

My mother had always been like this. Everything I did seemed to carry some kind of expectation.

I had to be polite. I had to behave. I had to make the right choices. I couldn't embarrass my father. I couldn't disappoint my mother and above all, I had to be an example for everyone else.

Sometimes I wondered if they even remembered that I was just a seventeen-year-old boy. I leaned my head against the window.

There we go again with the talk. I didn't say anything out loud. There was no point.

Soon, the cathedral came into view. It wasn't far from our house, so the drive didn't take long.

My father pulled into the parking area, and everyone began getting out. I opened the trunk and started taking out the supplies we had brought with us. Boxes, cleaning equipment, church materials.

I carried one of the heavier boxes toward the entrance. The familiar smell of the cathedral greeted me as I stepped inside.

I had spent most of my childhood here. It was supposed to feel like home, and most days, it did but sometimes... it felt like everyone knew exactly who I was suppose0ld to be except me.