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“I am freaking tired of him coming in here and telling everyone what to do and never even showing me his face. I don’t want him here. Now or ever.Movete.” She glared, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of getting out of bed in her state. Sometimes, chemo would amp her up, but she was now on day four of six, so the high was wearing off fast. “Francisco.”
I moved to the side, setting the small arrangement of flowers on a low table by the window. It was the companion’s table, right next to the reclining chair, where I’d slept many a night during these hospital visits. Uncomfortable but worth it to see her face, even for a few hours.
She threw open the door, the knob slamming against the wall behind it, leaving a small indentation on the material there.
“Eugenio!” she yelled out into the hallway, totally out of breath. She was holding on to the IV pole, her forearm wrapped around it and her petite body leaning on it. Dread covered my face. He would chew her up and spit her out, but she didn’t care. “Where the fuck are you?”
He wasn’t outside the room or at least anywhere visible from where we stood. Lucía was standing with another doctor by a desk on the other side of the hallway, across from the nurses’ station. She turned to look at me, aquestion in her eyes. I lifted and dropped my shoulders because I legitimately did not know what was about to happen. Jazmín had a mind of her own—feisty. And I loved her so much because of that. I had never been able to stand up to him, not even then, already in my thirties.
“Just to make this very fucking crystal clear for everyone,” she said, short of breath, cheeks flushed. “That man that calls himself my father is anything but. He’s an abusive asshole that doesn’t deserve a second of your attention.”
Lucía’s eyes found mine, wide and surprised. The corner of her lips ticked up, but she composed herself quickly, blinking away the amusement. There was absolute silence in the hospital wing. “If you need anything, you talk to my mother or my brother. Or else.”
I beamed behind her, a cackle rising from my chest and leaving my mouth. Lucía snorted, turning her back to Jazmín so she wouldn’t be caught. Sonia walked swiftly towards my sister and whispered soothing words in her ear, running her soft hand through her hair and pushing her towards the room. Within a minute, she was back in bed, her eyelids drifting shut.
The sound of a door shutting in the distance jolted me from my daze. I was still standing in Santiago’s living room, the house completely dark.
30
LUCÍA
It had to be me,the problem. I couldn’t make anyone stay. In and out of my life like I was one of those fucking tongue depressors. Disposable.
The view out the window was complete darkness. Power was out in every single corner of this town, not even the stars illuminating the sky.
“Shit!” I screamed into my pillow. The cat hopped on the bed, her small head nudging my ear, purring steadily there. Maybe she was telling me I was being too dramatic. Maybe she empathized. I hoped she knew how heartbreaking this was.
I tossed and turned all night in Jacinto’s bed, the sheets still smelling faintly of Francisco. I was torturing myself, I knew that, but my bed was still unmade, the unwashed bedding long forgotten in the washing machine.
I tugged on the first set of scrubs I could findand tied my hair up in a ponytail. I needed to get out of that house, where every corner reminded me of him. And being outside was torture because the smell only reminded me of her. Of what could have been.
The walk to the office dragged for longer than it should have, dawn making it hard for me to see where I was going. I avoided Santiago’s house in case he was up and looking out the window like he’d been weeks ago, that day we went up to Lighthouse Point. But my curiosity got the better of me. The curtains were drawn, windows closed, and not a single light was on inside.
The keys for the front door to the office were loud against the quiet morning. The birds weren’t even chirping yet, a sign that I was up before anyone else in this town. It was common that I would be the first one up, at least in that big house. But this morning, the contrast was jarring.
It was musty in the practice—I hadn’t been in for weeks at this point, so I walked to the window to crack it open. I turned on the ceiling fan so that the air could circulate, the smell of summer leaving through the small opening.
I heard the snick of the latch behind me. Dr. Martín’s head poked inside the office.
“Querida,” he said. “Why are you here?” He looked so much older than the last time I’d seen him. His hair was combed back, the salt and pepper much more salt than pepper. He was wearing a pair of brown slacks and a light blue, short-sleeve shirt, the buttons closed at the top.
I smiled at him, at how much he reminded me of myown grandparents. I sighed. “I couldn’t sleep,” I replied. He looked worried, his bushy eyebrows wrinkling. “It’s been a wild few weeks.”
“Ah,” he said, walking in and locking the door behind him. He walked slowly but firmly, his energy put into each of his steps. Dr. Martín sat in one of the waiting room chairs, then patted the seat next to him, inviting me to take a seat. “Indulge me for a minute.”
I scrunched my nose in question, uncertainty surely coloring my features. I hesitated for a moment, and he raised an eyebrow, so I sat across the way, giving us a little more space.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He looked healthy. He looked great, in fact. Somewhat frail, but he had a hint of summer coloring in his cheeks, and his green eyes were shining with something. He nodded in response, linking his fingers and placing them on his lap. He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, the long limbs almost at my seat. “What is going on?”
I blinked, taken aback by the question. I knew he was observant, but he hadn’t seen me in weeks at this point. And I’d been holed up at that big house with Francisco.
He eyed me cautiously, and I felt like a bomb exploded in my stomach. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
A sob got caught in my throat. Heartrending.
The exact words I needed. Three years too late, probably.
