29
1024 Words
I hold up a hand and walk closer to him. “I’m okay. Don’t freak out.”
He says something in Spanish, his gaze roving over my face. He’s dressed in jeans, a black pea coat, and boots, his dark hair combed and his face freshly shaven. As soon as I’m within arms’ length, he pulls me into a hug.
“Chica,” he says, his voice uneven. “Jesus f*****g Christ.”
I try to keep my voice light, because even though I told him not to freak out, he obviously is. “Good to know I’m that frightening.”
He pulls away. Holding me by the shoulders, he looks me over again, his brows pulled together and his expression distraught. “Me and Carla…we didn’t know what the f**k happened. One minute you were there, the next you were gone. Buddy said you got attacked? You were in the hospital?” “Yeah. But I’m fine now. No damage, other than what you see.” I smile at him, hoping to avoid the interrogation I sense is coming.
No luck. He starts to grill me relentlessly.
“So, what happened? How many of them were there? Had you ever seen them before? What did your doctors say? What are the cops doing to help? When are you coming back to work?”
He pauses, and his voice gets strangled. “And can you ever forgive me for not taking out the f*****g trash myself?”
I sigh. “There’s nothing to forgive. Stop being such a drama queen. I’m fine, truly. Honestly, I just want to put the whole thing behind me.”
He moistens his lips, swallows, shakes his head like he’s in denial about something. “I should’ve never let you go outside alone so late. I should’ve never. I don’t know what the f**k I was thinking. I should’ve—”
“Stop.”
He clamps his mouth shut and stares at me.
“It wasn’t your fault, Diego. There are some bad people in the world, who do bad things. This isn’t on you in any way, okay?”
He pulls me into another hug, but this one feels different. More tender, somehow. He holds me like he doesn’t want to let me go.
Five seconds into it, I’m uncomfortable.
I pull away, smiling awkwardly, and push my hair behind my ear. He shoves his hands into his front pockets. We stand there in silence for a moment, until he says, “I tried calling all the hospitals around, but they all said there was no Truvy Sullivan checked in.” “Really? That’s strange.” I have no idea what else to say.
He stares at me. “Yeah. I thought so, too.”
“Maybe they thought you were saying Ruby or Trudie or something like that.”
He shakes his head. “I spelled it for everybody. You weren’t in anybody’s computer system.”
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I glance away, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze. “Um, I don’t remember much about when I checked in. I might’ve given them my middle name or something.”
“Uh huh.” Pause. “So this ‘good Samaritan’ Buddy said found you and called the ambulance. I’d like to thank him. Did you get the guy’s name?”
“The, uh, the police probably have it. Like I said, I don’t really remember much.”
He’s silent for a second, then says, “You know you’re a shitty liar, right?”
I snap my head around and meet his level gaze. “I’m not lying!”
“You’re not telling me the truth, either.” When I’m silent, he challenges, “Are you?”
“Okay, you know what, Diego? This is BS. I got attacked in an alley by three thugs who wanted to rob the place. I got beat up. I went to the hospital. And now I’m out of the hospital and trying to get back to normal. Why are you giving me grief about this?”
He takes a step closer. His voice lowers. “Because I’ve never seen Buddy act as weird as he did when he told me and Carla what happened. He looked like he was about to s**t his pants or leave town for good. And I could tell he wasn’t being straight with us, just like I can tell you’re not either.”
He pauses. “This has something to do with that vato in black who always comes in and stares at you, doesn’t it?”
I press my lips together and look away. “No.”
I hear his huff of annoyance. Then he gently takes me by the chin and turns my face toward his. His gaze drills into mine. He says softly, “I’m your friend, chica. Why are you lying to me?” Aw, s**t.
I whisper, “I’m sorry.” I take a breath and look at my shoes. Diego drops his hand from my face to my shoulder. “It’s just that I can’t…I don’t exactly know how…”
I blow out a hard breath and look up at him. “It’s complicated.”
He examines my face for a moment, then nods. He says softly, “Okay. I won’t push it. But I want you to know that I’m here for you, yeah? If s**t gets more complicated, you can talk to me. I won’t judge.”
A lump forms in my throat. I nod wordlessly, blinking back the moisture forming in my eyes.
Diego’s voice hardens. “But if I find out that puto pendejo hurt you, I’ll kill him.”
I stare at him in horror. “Diego! How can you expect me to talk to you after that?”
His brown eyes flash in anger. “So he did hurt you. It wasn’t strangers who attacked you in the alley—it was him.”
“No! Stop twisting this around, it was not him!”
He looks at me with narrowed eyes, a muscle in his jaw flexing.
- Writer
