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The silence stretched as I allowed him a moment to answer, but he seemed incapable, so I, unfortunately, continued with the verbal diarrhea.
“I’m not in this room much, or I would have taken it down now that I know you.” Everything I said after that sounded weak even to my own ears.
“It’s okay, not a big deal,” he said, finally putting me out of my misery. “Why don’t we go back out, join the party? They must be missing you.”
Once back outside, Ramiro’s gaze latched on to us. I ignored it and introduced Dr. Medina to the neighbors. Merengue blared from a sound system that hadn’t been in the yard before. Hector grabbed my hand. “May I have this dance?”
I laughed so hard, Hector frowned. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just, I have two left feet. I don’t dance. And this song,” I kept talking between fits of laughter as I listened to Esa Muchacha by Los Hermanos Rosario, “is about a girl who can dance really well.”
“Everyone can dance—”
“Mija,can you do me a favor?” my neighbor Mrs. Garcia called out to me.
“Sure,señora.”
I shrugged at Hector but was glad to be called away. It warmed me to my core when he took off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves, so he could pass a soccer ball around with the two Garcia boys from next door. I sat with the boys’ grandmother.
“I had a little accident in the kitchen. You mind taking a look?” She brought up an arm to display a burn on her inner forearm.
“Hay, Mamá!” Francisca, her daughter, and the mother of the boys now playing soccer with Dr. Medina, said. “I told you, she is not that kind of doctor anymore.” She turned to me. “Sorry, Caro. I wanted to take her to the doctor, but she refused.”
“Don’t talk for me like I’m a child,” Mrs. Garcia said as she glared at her with a fire I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of. “Why would I go to a doctor,” she continued, “when I know it’s so minor and that Carolina would be happy to look at it?”
“I’m so sorry, Carolina,” said Francisca, completely flustered.
“Don’t worry, Francisca, I’m happy to help. Let me go inside and wash my hands. I’ll be right back to take a look.”
The burn was barely an inch in length, and only superficial.
“The good news is, you don’t have to go to the doctor,” I said to her with a smile.
“And the bad news?” Mrs. Garcia said, her brows furrowed.
I laughed. “No bad news. You just need to keep it clean and covered until it heals. If it’s nice and pink, it’s good. Once it scabs, it’s good. But if it turns any other funny color, or gets any type of smell, we’ll have to take a look at it again.”
Mrs. Garcia stuck her tongue out at her daughter, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “See?” she said. “I told you it would be nothing.”
“Ramiro!” I called for my friend. “Do you mind grabbing my first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom? I also need a notepad and a pen.”
He nodded and ran inside. I followed, leading Mrs. Garcia into the kitchen, where I washed her forearm with soap and water. Ramiro came back with the supplies, and I applied antibacterial ointment to her burn and bandaged it. I wrote down the name of a cream to use to treat it on a piece of paper and took it outside.
Ramiro and I walked Mrs. Garcia back to her chair. She wasn’t too old or frail yet, but we knew she’d been dipping into the beers as usual. We sat her down, and I handed Francisca the piece of paper.
“It’s really no trouble,” I reassured her. “I’m always happy to help your mom. Shefeedsme when Dad is busy working.”
It had been true once, though not so much since I’d moved out to my own apartment. But I still had a lot of love for the woman next door who had kept an eye out for us after Mom died. Like many at the party, she was more family than neighbor.
Not much longer after fixing up her mom, Francisca caught my attention as she chatted it up with Dr. Medina. And no, I was not jealous. Not one little bit. I loved Francisca almost as much as I loved her mom. Francisca was a single mom, sure, but she was a super-hot single mom. Not that I was jealous.
And because I wasn’t jealous, I walked up to them to see what they were chatting about.
“It was great to see you,” Dr. Medina said, “but I have to get going. Happy birthday.” He said his goodbyes to Francisca then found Dad to do the same before parting.
“He is very handsome,” Francisca said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sure. If that’s your type,” I said dismissively.
“What? The tall, dark, and handsome type? Or is it the hot doctor type? Or the sexy Spanish accent type?”
