Picture Imperfect

by Lea Santos

  Paloma gnawed her lip and pondered this annoyingly rhetorical question, coming up blank. Leave it to Emie to ask the profound yet unanswerable. Jamming her arms crossed, Paloma frowned. “Well?” she yelled toward the kitchen. “Is it worth it?”

  Emie didn’t respond.

  Chapter Five

  From Paloma Vargas’s journal, Monday, September 24

  I had planned to attend Back-to-School Night alone, but I got a voicemail from Deanne, and she said she’d meet me there. I’m not holding my breath. I’m still angry about the mediation thing, but of course, in moments when I’m not feeling totally self-centered, I hope Dee does show up for the boys’ sake. Partners or not, we’re still their parents. If we can’t act like adults and pull it together long enough to stay involved in Pep’s and Teddy’s lives, well, that’s just pathetic. I’m adamant that this divorce will not affect the boys.

  And…okay. Maybe I want to see Deanne just a tiny bit. Call me a hypocrite, but I wonder how she’s doing after our huge argument. I don’t know that I’m ready to cave in, but after several long talks with the ever-wise Emie, I can grudgingly appreciate the sacrifice Deanne made skipping the sergeant’s test to try and make it to our appointment. I want to have a forgiving heart. I do. But it’s hard. Still, she’s been so good about staying away, giving me space, I just wonder how she’s truly adapting. I worry too much about her, I know.

  Me <———idiot.

  I’m sick to death of the animosity, which can’t be good for the kids. Still, I don’t want to keep being so indecisive. Back and forth, back and forth. Dee loves the boys beyond reason. Actually, she has a lot of good qualities—no denying that. It’s just the other stuff.

  God, what will I do when she finds another woman?

  Ugh. I feel sick.

  Paloma arrived early at the school and gave in to the boys’ pleas for a few minutes on the deserted playground. As long as they took care to stay clean, the chance to expend their bottle-pop energy would pay off in the long run. Better here than in front of their teachers, where she prayed they’d act like well-mannered little gentlemen.

  She sat on a bench and watched them run from the slide to the swings, laughing and yelling to each other. As the evening breeze lifted her hair, Paloma closed her eyes and took advantage of the solitary time to gather her wits.

  It had been a long week of anger and disillusionment since she had last seen Deanne, and the thought of sitting next to her tonight absolutely frazzled her nerves. Despite it all, Dee had had a magnetic pull on Paloma’s psyche since girlhood. No sense trying to tell herself it’d be gone. That charming, solemn, devoted young woman still existed somewhere deep inside the stranger Paloma hardly knew anymore. Regrets burned her throat. If only Deanne hadn’t shuttered herself away in the first place. If only she had—just once—asked Paloma what was wrong. If only she’d give Paloma more than empty promises…

  Paloma sensed Deanne’s presence as she approached from behind, as though her very soul emitted sensory waves that Paloma’s heart alone could detect. Dee had shown up. Paloma’s breath caught. Will miracles never cease? A blue flame of hope flickered inside her, softening her bitterness even further.

  Dee moved closer, and Paloma stiffened, the hair at her nape prickling. She couldn’t help but remember the living room kiss that had so shaken her resolve. Her breathing came fast and shallow when the breeze caught Deanne’s singularly sexy scent and surrounded Paloma with the memories it stirred.

  Paloma kept her seat but hastily smoothed her low-slung pants and tugged down her cleavage-flattering blouse—an outfit she hadn’t chosen knowing she’d see Deanne, necessarily. She just wanted to look nice for the meeting with the boys’ teachers. But she knew it looked hot on her, especially with the five pounds she’d lost, and a small, fickle part of her hoped Deanne would notice.

  All at once, the boys caught sight of Deanne. Paloma could tell from the instantaneous brightening of their faces.

  “Mommy!” they chimed in unison.

  Like a high-velocity bullet, Teddy flew over the loose gravel in a flat-out sprint toward his mommy. His eyes were glued to Deanne, so he couldn’t possibly see the railroad tie edging around the swings, though it lay directly in his path.

  Sucking a sharp breath that smelled of wind and Deanne and grilled dinner from a nearby house, Paloma lurched to her feet. She sensed the accident before it happened.

  His left foot caught on the thick wood, ripping the shoe from it. Little Teddy sailed through the air and he hit the gravel chin first, his head slamming into the metal swing set frame with a sickening clang. His neck wrenched at an angle that made Paloma flinch, and his unnatural limpness and dead silence shot pain straight to her womb.

  “Teddy!” she screamed, dropping her briefcase. She ran, losing one Keen clog in the process. Her peripheral vision caught Pep running from another direction; she wanted to scream “Stop!” before they had another collision, but horror strangled her silent.

  Deanne appeared at her side. She grabbed Paloma’s elbow and steadied her the rest of the way. They fell to their knees next to Teddy, who still hadn’t moved. Paloma’s heart beat as though a demon dwelled inside it, determined to punch its way out. Her entire body shook with adrenaline. He was hurt. Really hurt.

  “Oh…God. Baby!” She made ineffective jerky motions with her hands. Starting to touch him, then stopping again. She didn’t want to shake him, but one primal part of her needed to rattle his cage. Cry! Scream! Anything!

  “Teddy, hon.” Deanne caressed him gently, then leaned her ear to the boy’s back to listen. “Damnit, T, wake up.” She felt for a pulse in Teddy’s tiny neck. “Fuck,” Deanne bit out, casting Paloma a severe glance. “I have to start rescue breathing. I need you to help me turn him over without compromising his neck.”

  “H-he’s not breathing?” Paloma clutched at her throat, and the world swirled to a dark pinpoint that contained only this, only them. Not my baby.

  Deanne wrenched off her leather jacket and tossed it aside. “Listen, run for help, Paloma—”

  Suddenly, Teddy stirred, and they both froze. After one blood-gurgled inhale, his wail cut through the twilight like an off-tone siren. Paloma thought she’d never heard anything so achingly wonderful in her life. She reached for Teddy with a violently trembling hand, touching him softly.

  “We’re here, Teddy boy.” She brushed his brow.

  Deanne bent closer, running through the motions of rescue first aid again.

  “Mommy?”

  “I’m here, little man. Lie still, okay?”

  “Mamaaaaa!” Teddy’s tear-streaked face struggled to lift, and he flailed for her embrace.

  “No, no, honey. Listen to Mommy. Don’t move!” Madre de Dios! So much blood. It covered the lower half of his face, filled his nose and mouth. Not only that, but a horrible purple goose egg had risen on his head.

  Rigidity hit her like a lightning bolt, and she went dead still. Pep, who’d been hanging back, took one glance at his little brother’s macabre state and threw himself into her arms, shaking and silent. Paloma rubbed his slight back as she peered down at her youngest son. “M-my God. Please, Deanne—”

  “Head wounds always bleed like hell,” Deanne assured her in a voice more relaxed than her expression let on. “Try to stay calm. For him.”

  But Deanne wasn’t so together on the inside. Paloma could tell just looking at her ashen complexion. Her focus completely on Teddy, Deanne bent forward until her face was on the same level as her son’s.

  “Hey, little man.” Teddy’s cries nearly drowned out her words. “This’ll be one to brag about at school, eh?” As Deanne talked, she placed her leather jacket over Teddy’s body.

  “Mommy…” Teddy gurgled. “M-my m-moooouth!”

  “Your mouth looks good, big guy,” Deanne lied. “What else hurts, son?”

  “My n-neck.”

  “Yeah? It looks good, too, T.” As Deanne spoke, she gently probed the skin at the back of
Teddy’s small neck. He flinched, and Deanne placed a hand on his back. “You lie good and still, Teodoro. Do you hear me, guy?”

  “D-don’t l-leave me, Mommy!”

  “I’m not going anywhere, T. Lie still.” Deanne glanced at Paloma. “Babe, run and—”

  “Nooooo! Mama, don’t goooo!” Teddy wailed.

  Paloma crouched, the coppery wet smell of her little boy’s blood registering horribly in her mind before numbness could block it. Don’t think about it. She had to keep it together for Teddy. Pep still clung to her, but he wouldn’t look at his little brother. “Mama’s right here, sweet baby. I’m right here.” She glanced beseechingly up at Deanne. Please don’t make me leave my baby.

  “Damnit! There’s no time—” Deanne pressed a rough breath through her nose and fished in her pocket for car keys. “Pep.”

  Pep turned toward his mommy, teeth chattering with fear.

  Deanne smiled encouragingly, though Paloma could see the urgency in her cocoa brown eyes. “Can you be my partner here, buddy?” Deanne asked their son.

  “Y-yes.” Pep swallowed audibly.

  Deanne lobbed him the keys. “Run to Mommy’s car—”

  “Not through the parking lot, Dee.” Paloma’s voice was reedy and high-pitched. “He’s too upset.”

  Deanne rubbed her free hand up and down Paloma’s back in long, soothing strokes, but her gaze locked with Pep’s. “I parked just on the edge of the playground, babe. He won’t even have to go into the lot. We need an ambulance. It’s not a choice.”

  “Of course, you’re right.” Paloma whipped a glance around the schoolyard, but found it empty other than them. Where was everyone when they needed them?

  “Pep, unlock the car and get my cell phone, son. It’s in the drink holder. Can you do that?”

  “Okay.”

  “Deanne spoke in calm, well-modulated tones, trusting eyes boring directly into her son’s. “You remember how to dial nine-one-one?”

  “Uh-huh. And press Send, right?” Pep tugged at his collar.

  “You got it, buddy. Press Send and speak nice and clear, do you hear me? Take a good deep breath.”

  Paloma dragged in her own lungful of fear-tinged air as she watched Pep’s skinny little chest expand and contract.

  “Tell them you’re my son, and that your brother is badly hurt. Good and calm. My name is Officer—?”

  “Deanne Vargas,” Pep obediently answered.

  “From district—?”

  “Four.”

  “Good man.” Deanne clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Ask them to send an ambulance to the school, and keep them on the line. Talk to them while you’re walking back, okay? So I can talk to them after you. Got all that?”

  Pep seemed to absorb calmness and confidence from his mommy’s apparent faith in his abilities. He stood straighter, face flushed. “Yeah, Mommy. I can do it.”

  “I know you can, m’ijo. Now go on.”

  Pep hesitated, sliding a reluctant sidelong glance toward the growing pool of blood around Teddy’s chin.

  “Hey.” Deanne whistled sharply to redirect his attention. When Pep looked at her, Deanne winked, the waning sunset glowing rosy gold off the smile lines around her eyes. Her words, however, were firm and compelling. “Your brother will be fine, Pep. I promise. But I need you to make that call.”

  Pep whipped a confirming glance at Paloma, and she managed a shaky smile. “Listen to Mommy, sweetheart. Go on. Watch where you’re running.”

  A boy with an important job, Pep took off like the wind. Paloma’s eyes jerked to Teddy, who’d grown way too quiet. “His h-head, Deanne. Look at the—”

  “Paloma.” Deanne pressed a finger across her own lips, then pointed to Teddy. “He’ll be fine. But—” She shook her head.

  Paloma understood. Deanne didn’t want Teddy to realize how badly he was hurt, or shock might become a real problem. Instead of talking about Teddy, Paloma wiggled down onto her stomach facing him and whispered soft reassurances. He’d lost teeth, and as Paloma collected them from the bloody gravel, she silently hoped they were baby teeth—as if there weren’t more serious issues to worry about.

  It seemed like forever, but in reality it was mere moments before Pep returned, the phone to his ear. A young woman Paloma recognized as the school attendance secretary trotted alongside him, and she stopped to collect the spilled contents of Paloma’s briefcase.

  As Pep came into hearing range, Paloma heard him saying, “Mommy’s right here. Hold on.” He closed the distance between them in a run, holding the phone out. “They wanna talk to you, Mommy.”

  Deanne sat back on her haunches and took the phone from Pep, pulling the boy against her chest as she spoke in official-sounding phrases.

  Loss of consciousness.

  Possible neck or head injury.

  Definite shock.

  Deep laceration.

  Approaching sirens tore the beautiful silence of the evening, and relief rushed through Paloma. Time seemed slow motion and distorted; she thought they’d never get here.

  Pep, looking stronger for having done a man’s job, leaned toward his little brother. “You have a really awesome bump on your head, but you’re gonna be okay, Teddy Bedwetty.”

  “That’s not my name,” Teddy murmured in a tone utterly devoid of the vehemence with which he usually defended himself against the hated nickname.

  Pep seemed to notice, growing very earnest. “Till you get better, I’ll do all your chores, ’kay? And, next time we’re at Auntie Gia’s, you can sit in the driver’s seat first.”

  “Swear?” Teddy mumbled listlessly.

  Pep drew an X over his chest, eyes round and solemn. “Hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

  “’Kay.” Teddy sucked a rattling breath.

  Paloma’s throat closed with an emotion she recognized as pure love, and her gaze drifted to Deanne’s just as she disconnected. They had such good boys, and their shared glance acknowledged that. Deanne offered her hand, and Paloma gladly took it. Nothing mattered right now but Teddy.

  The ambulance arrived, throwing blue and red lights against the trees, and disgorged the paramedics in a mad rush of glare and equipment and sound. Paloma had to literally drag herself away from Teddy’s side, but Deanne was right. They needed room to work. Their clipped phrases rang like dialogue from a television episode; she couldn’t bear to think of it in relation to her little boy.

  Get a pressure bandage on that laceration.

  Watch the C-spine.

  Pep remained unusually quiet, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to her feet. Deanne pulled Paloma back against her warm, solid chest, and Paloma didn’t resist. On the contrary, she felt tearfully grateful for the comfort and warmth as her wife cradled her emotionally as well as physically.

  Patient’s immobilized.

  Start an IV.

  I can’t get a vein. Too small.

  She shuddered, and Deanne smoothed calming palms over the goose bumps on her forearms. It felt good, she acknowledged, as she watched the paramedics work on her son.

  “You know them?” She asked Deanne without turning.

  Deanne’s murmured “Mmm-hmm” rumbled against Paloma’s back. “They’re a good crew. Don’t worry, baby girl.”

  They had braced Teddy’s neck and strapped him to a backboard, securing his head to it with some sort of tape. Paloma sucked in a breath and held it as they prepared to move him.

  The slim paramedic in charge said, “Okay, slowly. On my count. One, two, three.”

  Paloma winced as they flipped him over, but relief made her sag when she saw Teddy’s eyes wide open. Deanne’s warm, muscled arms around her tightened, as though she could fortify Paloma’s courage with her physical and emotional strength. Paloma felt Deanne’s lips against her hair whispering, “Easy, babe. He’s doing good,” but her heart in her throat silenced any response.

  By this time, the light show had drawn a crowd. Word was sent to Pep’s and Teddy’s
teachers, and the young secretary had taken care to brush off and return Paloma’s briefcase.

  After they’d secured Teddy on a gurney, Paloma, Deanne, and Pep walked alongside as the paramedics steered him toward the ambulance. It became a jumble of motion and outstretched arms, murmured reassurances and brief touches. Soon, the head paramedic, a birdlike giant with wise green eyes, turned toward them. Removing his surgical gloves, he ran a huge hand through his wiry nest of blond hair. “You wanna ride, V?”

  “No, Jason. Thanks. He needs his mama more than me.”

  That’s not true! He needs us both, Paloma wanted to cry out. But they couldn’t both ride with Teddy, and already, Deanne’s warm hand was urging her forward into the yawning glare of the ambulance interior. Deanne braced her elbow as she stepped clumsily up. She shivered, and Deanne handed her the leather jacket, then glanced toward Jason, pulling Pep against her side. “We’ll follow you.”

  Jason shut one of the rear ambulance doors, but as he reached for the other, Deanne grabbed the edge of it.

  “Punky.”

  She turned.

  Deanne winked, as if to reassure her. Just like she’d done when Pep had been frightened. “I’m right behind you, P.”

  Paloma nodded, pulling the lapels of the jacket around her neck. The supple leather released a scent that was pure Deanne. Soap and musk, with just a touch of the vinyl polish she religiously used on the Chevelle’s interior. The familiarity soothed Paloma then like Deanne’s calmness had in the midst of the ordeal. What would she have done had Dee not been there? Handled it, obviously. She wasn’t helpless.

  Still, Deanne’s reassurances, her mere presence, had kept Paloma sane in the first moments when she’d seen Teddy…pale and limp, all that blood. She shuddered, sinking into the jacket.

  As the ambulance rolled, she sat next to Teddy, the memories replaying in her mind like film clips. Deanne, chin to injured chin with their son. Those oh-so-sexy crinkles around her eyes when she winked at Pep. The soft solidity and heat of her chest, the comfort of her nearness, and her lips against Paloma’s hair.