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Mercedes snorts. “When hell freezes over. I didn’t do that to her.”
“Mercedes,” I say again. She's not looking at me, though. She’s still glaring at Miriam. “Apologize.”
She shifts her gaze to me. “No. I don’t care what you do to me, but I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”
“Do you apologize for things you do do?”
She folds her arms across her chest and looks away, the line of her jaw tight as she clenches her teeth.
“We’ll try again tomorrow, Miriam. Perhaps Ms. De La Rosa will be feeling better by then. Thank you.”
“Sir.” She nods, turns to exit.
I bring my attention to the tray of food. If that’s what you can call it. It’s a lump of some unrecognizable slop. I pour coffee for Mercedes and carry the mug to her. She takes it and brings it to her lips, pauses to inhale as if she thinks it may be poison, then sips.
“I will punish you in front of her if you don’t apologize.”
She looks at me, quiet for a moment. “I didn’t hurt her.”
“Who gave her two black eyes then?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure there is a line of people wanting to do that. She’s a horrible woman.”
“I will punish you in front of her, Mercedes. Understand that.”
“And if you do that, I will never forgive you. You understand that.”
“So be it.” I carry the tray to the bed and set it on the nightstand, then push her blanket off. “Up.”
“Why?”
“I will help you to the bathroom, then I need to go, and you need to get some sleep.”
“I’m fine.” She tries to cover herself again.
I take her wrist. “Up, Mercedes.”
“Fine.” She moves more slowly this time and leans into me as we walk into the bathroom. Once we’re inside, she turns to me and raises her eyebrows.
I raise mine, too, and lean against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest.
“Oh, no. I’m not going to the bathroom while you stand there.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Judge—”
“It’s either me or Miriam. You can’t get out of bed on your own. You could fall, hit your head again.”
“I didn’t hit my head! She threw...” But she stops, makes a sound like it’s pointless, then pulls down her panties and sits on the toilet to pee.
I look away, giving her that little bit of privacy. When she’s done, she flushes, washes her hands, and shoves me off when I try to hold onto her to take her back to bed. She climbs in herself and lies down, giving me her back.
“I need to take care of this missing persons report. You will remain in my room. In my bed. Do you understand?”
Nothing.
I lean down so my face is inches from hers. The things I’m feeling right now, the betrayal, it’s strange. And more painful than I imagined it could be.
