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“Keep dreaming, Abuela. It ain’t happening yet. There’s too much I want to do.”
“Oh, and that hubby of yours, how does he feel about it?” she says as I help her out of her chair and we leave the hospital. I just hope Mamá has gone home so that I can get the card and get to the pharmacy in time or I’ll have to go to a twenty-four seven one and Dr. Pastor made it clear, the quicker she has the medication the better.
“I need to go the bathroom, but I don’t know why you’re holding me as if I can’t walk,” Abuela snaps as she takes her arm back from me.
I break away from her and realize that I’m being a little overprotective and probably a little overbearing.
“Do you want to come to the bathroom with me, to make sure I close the door?”
I shake my head. The idea of it is a little too much but then I don’t know when she’s going to change. It’s as if there are two abuelas in her one body. One that is of sound mind, and the other snaps and just strips and talks nonsense.
“I’ll wait outside,” I tell Jose as he shrugs and probably doesn’t know what to do with himself.
I’ll go to the bathroom, but then just wait outside the cubicle and if she asks, then I’ll say I needed to go to the bathroom too. My phone chimes and I know it’s Diego again. He has been sending me texts for days and I haven’t had the heart to tell him that I’m not going back this weekend to NY. I can’t. I need to stay here with Abuela.
Sorry, I know you keep texting me. I need to stay longer. Abuela is really sick.
I’m not going to tell him straight.
But I need you here.
Wow, that’s a bit abrupt, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong with her or even why.
Well, she needs me more.
Are you a doctor?
He knows the answer to the question, so I ignore him and shove my phone in my back pocket as I wait outside the cubicle for Abuela to leave.
My phone chimes again.
I’ll get the best doctor to see to her. You don’t need to be there. You should be here. We need to plan our real wedding.
Money can’t buy love and attention. And I don’t know why you’re talking about a real wedding. You haven’t even proposed yet.
I will when we’re divorced. Now get your butt back here.
I’m not getting my butt anywhere. I told you Abuela is sick and the only thing you can do is think about yourself.
I’m so mad right now, I can’t believe that I felt guilty about not being with him, and he’s treating me this way. He can’t click his fingers and I come running, that’s not how it works. Not in my world.
We’re getting a divorce, but I’m not marrying you with an attitude like that.
That’s the last thing I have to say to him as I shove my phone in my pocket, then I start to panic as I wonder if maybe Abuela left the bathroom as I was arguing with Diego. He’s being so inconsiderate. I can’t believe that I missed him, or even wanted him around. I don’t care what’s going on there, he has no right to speak to me this way. Not one little bit.
“Abuela, are you going to come out of there or am I going to have to drag you out?” I bark.
A cubicle door swings open.
“Can’t a girl poo in peace? I swear, Leticia, if you keep on going like this, then I don’t want to be around you for the next eight months.”
Again, the pregnancy thing. I apologize and then she washes her hands. Another couple of ladies open the cubicle doors, theyshake their heads with disapproval about the way I spoke to Abuela.
Diego and I will be on radio silence for the next few days, not unless he’s willing to apologize I will not be replying to any of his messages.
Never again.
1 Please, don’t you say it.
