Battered Not Broken

by Rose, Ranae

  “It’s nice that you care, but what do you want me to do about it? This is my family – this is my life.”

  “Come stay at my place,” he said, gripping her fingers a little more tightly. “You’ll be safe there.”

  Surprise washed over her like a tidal wave. She hadn’t expected him to actually suggest a solution, let alone that. “Stay with you?”

  He nodded. “For however long you need. Permanently, if you want to.”

  The drawer space he’d granted her had been thrilling. So had the nights she’d spent there. But it wasn’t that simple. Unfortunately. “I can’t just up and leave my mother to deal with all this on her own.” Her mother wasn’t strong enough – not after what she’d been through already. She’d been separated from her husband and son for a long time. It was clear that she longed for her family so badly that she was already accepting Manny’s presence in her life, whatever the risk.

  “I feel bad about your mother. But hell, Ally… I can’t just go home and leave you here knowing you might be hurt as a result of your brother’s decisions. How am I supposed to sleep at night?”

  It wasn’t like she didn’t understand where he was coming from. “Maybe now you know how I felt when you were participating in Cameron’s events. Every fight was a risk you couldn’t afford to take, but you did it anyway. And you expected me to watch from outside the cage and cheer you on.”

  He frowned. “That was different.”

  “Yeah, it was different because your participation in those fights was strictly voluntary. I didn’t sign up for Manny to start coming around again. It just happened, and I’m doing my best to deal with it.”

  “I couldn’t just not fight.”

  “Why not?” After she’d found out about his TBI and the elevated risk each fight posed, it had been agonizing to watch him compete.

  “Because… Fighting is the only damn thing I’m still good at. And besides you, it’s the only thing I give a damn about anymore. Giving it up would be like lying down and waiting to die.”

  A twinge of something struck Ally’s heart. Guilt, sympathy, whatever – it hurt. “Never mind that now. You can’t fight with a cast on your arm.” Hopefully her relief wasn’t audible in her voice. “The point is, I can’t just leave my mother to stay safe and sound with you, as appealing as that sounds. Sorry.”

  He was gripping her fingers more tightly than ever, nearly crushing them. “What about tonight? You could stay with me tonight, at least.”

  “I have work tomorrow morning. And after seeing Manny hurt, I know my mother is upset. I should be with her tonight.” She couldn’t make her mother’s problems go away, but she could at least be there to offer support and share the experience. They could drink tea, maybe watch some TV – anything that would allow them to relax together. She and her mother had been leaning on each other for years, ever since her father had been arrested. She couldn’t back out now.

  He finally let go of her hand and straightened in his seat. The tendon that popped up when he was angry was still there, a silent testament to his frustration.

  She was sorry to see it, but what could she do? “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I would if I could. I don’t take any pleasure in knowing that you’re worried.”

  “Going down with the ship.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what you’re doing. Your family is a sinking ship, and you’re choosing to go down with it. You have a choice; you just won’t consider any other option.”

  Ally bit down on nothing, her jaw aching faintly as she stared across the table at Ryan.

  He met her gaze, a hard look to his eyes that made them shine. Beneath the gleam, they appeared … sad. And angry. Basically, a lot like she was feeling at the moment.

  “You don’t understand.” She’d thought he would, even though he obviously didn’t have the same sort of relationship with his family that she did with hers. “My family isn’t like yours. Walking away isn’t an option.” Too late, she realized how what she’d just said had sounded.

  The tendon in the side of his neck jumped, but he seemed to take it in stride. “I’m not asking you to walk away. I’m only asking you to stay the night at my place, where you’ll be safe.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Someone moved in the corner of Ally’s vision, emerging from the hall that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. “Mamá.”

  It was impossible to know how much she’d heard, but judging by her sad little frown and the wary look in her eyes, she’d heard something.

  Ryan stood, pushing back his chair. “I was just leaving. Thanks for having me, Mrs. Rivera. Dinner was great.”

  Ally abandoned her chair too, following him as he strode toward the door. “How are you going to get home?”

  “In my car.”

  “But you can’t drive. Do you want me to—”

  “I can drive. I don’t need you to chauffer me.”

  Her heart leapt as her gaze gravitated toward his right arm, the lower half of which was almost entirely encased in plaster. “With your arm—”

  He opened the front door, admitting a blast of cold evening air. It went straight through her sweater, chilling her to the bone. He wore only a t-shirt – the easiest sort of garment to fit on the upper half of his body because of his cast – and had to be freezing. “Good night, Ally.”

  Her stomach plummeted down to her toes. This wasn’t how she’d wanted the evening to go. Not at all. “Ryan…”

  He met her gaze one last time, his eyes as blue and hard as sapphires. “Thanks for dinner. Goodnight.”

  The door fell shut behind him as he walked the short distance to the curb and climbed into his car. Broken wrist or not, he drove away, down a darkening twilight street.

  Ally’s heart beat to the roaring rhythm of the mustang’s engine as the tail lights faded into the evening blend of darkness and street light.

  “Is everything okay?” Maria appeared in the living area, near the door.

  No, it wasn’t. But no way was she going to spill the details of what had just transpired to her mother. It would only add to Maria’s stress, and succinctly describing her and Ryan’s relationship was beyond Ally’s capabilities anyway. “Ryan’s just worried about me. You know, because of Manny.”

  Maria lowered her gaze, still wearing the sad little frown that seemed to have become her trademark expression of late.

  “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Ally let her gaze flicker in the direction of the TV. She couldn’t have been less interested in the prospect, but she needed to do something besides stand there in a bubble of regret and frustration as she stared at the place where Ryan’s mustang had been. “I could make some tea.”

  “Okay. What movie do you want to watch?”

  “You choose.”

  Ally put on a kettle full of hot water and pulled a box of chamomile tea bags from the cupboard, rinsing out her and her mother’s coffee cups.

  Ryan’s mug remained on the table, a thin ring of black coffee dregs at the bottom. She picked it up, imagining that faint traces of heat remained on the handle, remnants of his touch. Stupid, and it didn’t even make her feel any better. If anything, she felt worse. And it was inevitable that a thousand more pangs of regret like the one she’d just experienced would assail her throughout the night, prompting her to wonder exactly when the night had gone wrong.

  They’d had dinner, cake and coffee and then he’d asked her to do something impossible. What could she have done – what could she possibly have said that would have led to a different outcome to the night?

  Maybe nothing. Sometimes, life just put people in situations that they couldn’t talk their way out of.

  “There are a few movies about to start,” Maria called over the buzz of the TV. “What would you rather watch – a comedy or a drama?”

  “Comedy,” Ally called back, but not because she thought anything would be able to make her laugh that night. It would just be easy to tune out in front of a funny movie
.

  “Okay. Starting in five minutes.”

  The teakettle let out a shrill whistle, as if on cue.

  Ally turned off the stove burner. When she poured the boiling water into the two cups she’d prepared, fragrant steam rose and whirled in transparent clouds. The heat and scent of chamomile might have been comforting if she hadn’t been thinking of Ryan and worrying about his drive home.

  She could call him later that night to make sure he’d made it home safely. She’d gone with him to pick up a cheap new phone earlier that day, and his number hadn’t changed. What else would she say, though? Their night had turned sour over an impasse, and the truth was that there was nothing she could do about it. Her life was what it was, and their argument had emphasized the inherent difficulties of two lives beginning to merge together.

  * * * * *

  It would be a relief when the long summer nights returned again. For now, the sunset always seemed to come early, bathing the streets in dusk that darkened Ally and Maria’s walk home from work. They’d stayed a little later than usual because a client’s coloring job had ended up taking longer than expected. The difference showed in the sky, which was a pale purple color beyond the yellow glare of streetlights. Pretty, but cold. Ally zipped her jacket up as far as it would go.

  “I heard you talking to Ryan last night.”

  “What?” Ally abandoned her usual habit of looking straight ahead and sought her mother’s gaze instead. Her stomach gave a guilty little lurch as their eyes met. She’d known that her mother had overheard at least part of her and Ryan’s conversation at the dinner table the night before, but she hadn’t planned to bring it up.

  “I heard him ask you to stay with him.”

  “Oh.” Ally bit down lightly on her inner lip. “You heard me tell him no, right?”

  Maria nodded. The ends of her colorful scarf fluttered in a breeze that blew down the street, whistling over the sidewalk and the sides of brick buildings. “Yes. But maybe you shouldn’t have.”

  Ally shook her head. “Mamá, I’m not going to leave you to go stay with Ryan. Please, don’t worry about the conversation. I’m sorry you overheard it.” She mentally cursed herself for allowing the exchange to take place where her mother had been bound to hear at least part of it.

  “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. It’s getting serious, isn’t it?”

  “We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks.” Ally tried to shrug off the uncomfortable weight her words seemed to add to her shoulders.

  “But still. You’ve never been like this with anyone else. When you’re around him, you seem at ease … happy. I’ve never seen you look truly happy with any other boyfriend.”

  “That’s because—” Ally bit down on her tongue. Because of what? Because Ryan wasn’t like anyone else she’d ever known? Because she felt things for him she’d never thought she’d feel for a man, even inside a relationship? “He’s different,” she admitted. “Things became more serious between us than I’ve ever been with anyone else pretty quickly.”

  Maria nodded, as if that was exactly what she’d known all along. “Eventually, you won’t be happy living at home and only seeing him on weekends and certain week nights. That’s just the way it is. So when that time comes, don’t think that I’ll be angry with you when you move on.”

  “Mamá, we don’t need to worry about this now.”

  “I wanted you to know. I don’t expect you to live at home forever. That would be unfair.”

  No good reply came to mind as they rounded a corner, the soles of their shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. What was she supposed to say? Of course she didn’t expect to live at home forever, but at the same time, the idea of leaving her mother now was unconscionable. “At least until papá is home. I’m not going to leave you before then.” He only had another year left to serve, anyway.

  The house came into view, a small white structure that was anything but unique, yet distinctive in Ally’s eyes nonetheless.

  “Ryan said some things that make sense,” Maria said, raising her eyes to look at the house. “Even I have to admit I’m uneasy over Manny’s return. You shouldn’t… I mean, maybe Ryan is right. If our family is a sinking ship, you’re the last one who should go down with it.”

  “Mamá!” Ally’s voice came out higher than she’d intended. “Mamá, don’t say that. I’m sure Ryan didn’t mean it.” Anger and regret heated her from the inside. Why had he said that – why had he said it where her mother could overhear?

  Maria made no reply as they stepped off the sidewalk, approaching the house.

  Instead, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket and climbed the short flight of stairs that led up to the porch.

  There was the faint jingle of keys hitting one another, the rasp of the one that went to the front door being inserted into the lock, and then the faint hum of a car rolling down the street. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” Maria asked as she opened the storm door and the main door, stepping inside. “I have the things to make—”

  Noise burst across the street like fireworks, the staccato notes of something that Ally never, ever wanted to hear in her neighborhood.

  But it was undeniably real. Little pieces of plastic and wood sprayed through the air like confetti, shot loose from one porch post and the siding between the door and the kitchen window, which burst with a crash, the pane smashed into a thousand little shards that rained down, clear and sharp.

  All that had only taken half a moment, and Ally had stood frozen. Now she turned – or tried to, at least. Bolts of fire seemed to hit her a moment too late – one to the bicep, and one to the shoulder above. The pain was so searing that bile rose in her throat as she wobbled, her knees failing her mid-turn.

  She didn’t see the car drive away, but she heard it as she crumpled onto the porch, her pulse ringing in her ears.

  “Ally!” Her mother’s voice was like a siren as the screen door banged open, swinging on its hinges, screeching like an oil-thirsty banshee.

  The floorboards shook beneath Ally as her mother clattered across them, shrieking her name again.

  The sound of a motor was clearer to Ally’s ears than her mother’s screams. The approaching car hummed with power and set Ally’s heart racing. Get down. Mamá, get down! The words echoed through her mind but wouldn’t come out of her suddenly-dry mouth. She tried to make her tongue work, but it might as well have been tied in a knot.

  By some miracle, her mother did exactly what Ally was trying to telepathically relay. With a shuddering cry, Maria dropped to her knees, pressing her hands to Ally’s body, quickly but lightly, as if she wasn’t sure where she should or shouldn’t touch her.

  Someone killed the motor that was purring in the street.

  Bile rose higher in Ally’s throat as her heart sped against her ribs like a freight train. Surely the curved columns of bone would snap beneath the pressure. Someone was coming. Mamá! Someone was coming to hurt her, too.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the front steps – unmistakably a man’s.

  “Thank God!” Her mother’s voice came out slightly strangled and didn’t make any sense.

  “Fuck. Fuck! What happened?” A male voice answered.

  The floorboards rattled and wobbled beneath Ally, sending fresh waves of fiery pain through her body, especially through her arm. Her heartbeat matched the frantic pace of the approaching footsteps. She recognized that voice.

  “She’s been shot!” Maria’s voice was high and strained. “She’s bleeding…”

  “Don’t move her. I’m calling 911.”

  Four distinct electronic beeps filled the air. One for nine, two ones and a last beep for send. It was weird that the sounds and their meanings were so crisp in her mind when she couldn’t even see straight. Maria was leaning over her, but bright patches of light danced in the field of Ally’s vision, mimicking the colors of her mother’s scarf.

  Ryan’s voice was an angry growl, like a speeding car engin
e, as he barked at the 911 operator.

  Then the call was over and he dropped to his knees beside her, too. “Ally!” His fingers swept across her forehead and delved into her hair.

  When he’d knelt something had fallen, hitting the floorboards beside her with a crunch of cellophane. Now, floral scents drifted from that direction, a strange contrast to the one other odor she could make out – a coppery one that should have set off alarm bells inside her head.

  But she was strangely calm as her mother’s voice mingled with Ryan’s, their conversation literally over her head as they spoke.

  “There was a car,” Maria said. “Just some car. It pulled up in front of the house and then…” Her voice faltered, as if she were being choked.

  Ally’s vision had become a patchwork of bright colors and kept her from making out anything besides the outlines of Maria and Ryan’s bodies and faces. Sirens soon converged on the scene though, and she made out their bright red and blue lights clearly. The stark primary colors flashed like high-powered strobe lights, so harsh compared to the pastel colors that danced in front of her eyes, half-blinding her.

  “They’re here.” It was getting more and more difficult to discern between Ryan’s voice and her mother’s, as strange as that was. The two were as different as night and day, but they were also muffled by the sounds of approaching footsteps, the noise of rescuers pounding up the stairs, hurried shadows in the sirens’ light.

  “It’s going to be all right.” That voice was her mother’s. Or was it? A hand caressed her cheek, and it could have been anyone’s.

  Chapter 22

  “I feel like such a baby.” Ally reclined against a thick stack of pillows, the hospital bed adjusted so that she was more or less in a sitting position.

  Ryan leaned forward in the vinyl seat he’d dragged to her bedside, shooting her a disapproving glance. “You’re not a baby. You were shot.” His mouth turned down at the corners as he spoke the last word, his eyes darkening to an almost-navy shade of blue. “And you’re not getting out of here early. I’ll tie you down to that bed if I have to. Just sit back and relax.”