I’ve been avoiding Beth since we left Austin. I saw the look on her face when I told her it was Marco who was going to give us a ride. He arrived before she could respond, but I know it’s coming – the sisterly smackdown.
When a doctor finally comes out and approaches my dad, the whole waiting room goes silent. My brothers and sisters and I make our way to Dad’s side.
“It was definitely a heart attack, Mr. Garcia. We found two arteries completely clogged and the third partially. Has she been having any pains in her chest or left arm lately?”
“Yes,” my dad answers. “She was complaining about her shoulder hurting on that side yesterday.”
“That’s pretty typical. Most patients have a series of small heart attacks before they ever get to the point where they realize they need to come into the hospital. Your wife was fortunate. It doesn’t look like there was too much damage to the heart muscle. We’ve performed angioplasty on those arteries and put in stents to keep them open in the future. She’ll be ready for you to see her later this morning, and hopefully out of ICU tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” my dad says, his voice weary.
“Of course. I’d suggest everyone go home for a few hours. We’ll let her have immediate family only for visitation tomorrow, and then if she’s able to move out of ICU the next day she can have regular hospital visitation hours and rules.”
My dad nods and the doctor retreats into the bowels of the hospital.
My brothers and Beth immediately go into a huddle, discussing who should go where. I put my arm around my younger sister, Ruby, and wait for the older siblings to tell us what they’ve decided.
Finally, Beth turns around and says gently to Ruby, “Okay, áá and David are going to take you and Dad home. You grab a few hours of sleep and some food. Lex and I will stay here for now in case Mom needs anything.”
All the extended family converge on Dad, giving him blessings and saying they’ll be back the next day. Marco comes over to hear the plans and says that he’ll go home with his parents so he can leave the car with me and Beth.
Once everyone is gone, Beth grabs us each a cup of coffee from the vending machine and sits next to me.
“We need to talk,” she tells me firmly as she hands me the cup.
I know this can only be about what happened with Gabe back in Austin. “Jesus, Beth. Mom’s in ICU. Do you really think this is the time to discuss my love life?”
She turns to face me, her jaw set, her eyes sparking with frustration or anger – or something that doesn’t bode well for me.
“Mom is going to be fine, and even if she weren’t, there is no good time to talk about what you did back there in that bar.”
I sigh and hang my head, staring at the floor.
“What the hell is the matter with you, Lex? I know you’ve been under pressure, and I know Mom and Dad have been doing a number on you. I’ve been your biggest advocate. I’ve told you to follow your heart – no matter which guy it led you to – and I’ve explained you to both Gabe and Marc when they’ve asked me…”
I look at her, mouth agape. She’s never told me she talks to them about me.
“Yeah, that’s right, and don’t you dare get all snippy about it either. I’ve been on your side, Lex, through all of this. Not just since Gabe came back – ever since you got off that plane from Afghanistan. But I can never condone what you did tonight. That man loves you more than his own life. He isn’t just some guy you’re dating while you’re in college. He’s the real thing, Lex. The one. Your one. He handed you his heart and tonight you took it, squeezed it ‘til it bled, and tossed it on the street like an empty beer bottle. I’m ashamed of you. I’m ashamed for you.”
She sits back, breathing heavily, arms crossed, as she looks everywhere in the room but at me.
I feel the tears rise to my eyes and I swallow it all. The fear, the pain, the sting of her words. Then, I stand and glare down at her.
“Thanks so much for your sisterly advice. And really, all the support. It’s easy for you to sit on your high horse, since you’re not the one they’re threatening to disown. What the hell was I supposed to do? Show up at the hospital with Gabe in tow? What if Dad had thrown me out and I couldn’t see mom? But you know what? You don’t need to worry about it from here on out. I got this. All by myself, ‘cause that’s where I’ve landed, isn’t it? Alone.”
I walk out of the hospital and pull out my cell phone.
“Yes, I need a taxi please.”
Gabe
A falta de pan, tortillas.
Love the one you’re with.
THOSE first few weeks in Afghanistan after Alexis went home were rough. I was in love, and in spite of what she’d promised, she wasn’t speaking to me – or emailing me or texting me. But there was always this tiny spark inside. This little light far back in the darkness of my soul, because we were thousands of miles apart and I could tell myself it would all be fine when I got home.
Once I did get back to the States, it hurt in a different way. It was the finality of what I’d already known. She wasn’t coming back, and life was going on. But the energy and time I had to expend making that life kept me busy enough that I could ignore my aching, stinging heart for periods. I also had the luxury of telling myself – over and over again – that it would never have worked anyway. It had all been a fantasy.
As I pour myself a cup of coffee in my tiny studio apartment in Austin, Texas, looking out the window at the door of Alexis’s apartment where she hasn’t been for four long days, the pain is so much fucking worse than it ever was before. Because now I know. I know it would have worked. I know it was, in fact, fantastic. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and there are no other excuses for why I lost it except the worst one. She doesn’t love me. At least not the way I love her, because there isn’t a person or a force on this planet that could keep me from her, but that is obviously not true for her.
It didn’t take much – one family crisis – and she left me like a bad dream. It’s a pattern not so unfamiliar in my life. My father left me, and my mother left me emotionally. Who knows if more women might have left me? I never gave any of them the chance. They couldn’t leave me because I left them first. That had always been my motto, and given how incredibly fucking horrible I feel four days after Alexis left, I never should have given it up.
I shrug into my leather, lock the door to the apartment, and saddle up on the Harley. Some part of me can’t bear the idea of taking the truck on the chance she might turn back up and need it for something.
Since she got in that car with Marco, I’ve texted and called her at least fifty times. Not a single damn response. In desperation, I finally texted Beth to find out if they’d made it safely and how their mom was doing. She sent back two words: “Ask Alexis.” At that point, I gave up. That was Monday. Now, on Thursday, I’m about done with the misery. I can’t keep it up, the worry, the pain, the questions. I just want it to all go away. I want numb. I want some sort of fucking peace.
Being a guy, Mike understands. He hasn’t said anything beyond, “Have you heard from her?” on Monday morning at work. I shook my head and he left well enough alone. Thursday afternoon, he saunters into my bay while he polishes a custom piece of chromework he’s putting on one of the cars from Ramon’s lowrider club.
“You got plans tonight?” he asks casually.
I look at him with one brow raised. “What the hell do you think?” I reply bitterly.
My bad attitude doesn’t seem to bother him. “Cool. We’re meeting the girls at the Silver Dollar.”
“Carla and Denise?”
“Yep. I’ll follow you home after work since you brought the bike. I’ll be DD tonight.”
I stop, my head still buried inside the truck engine I’m working on. “Thanks, man,” I say quietly.
“It’s what friends are for,” he answers simply before he walks off to mess with the iPod. He picks Gotye’s Somebody That I Used to Know. Even as miserable as
I am, I can’t help but chuckle.
The numbness I crave is slightly more difficult to achieve than I originally thought. We’ve been at the Silver Dollar for three hours when I finally feel the telltale rush. The dizzying fuzziness that comes from copious amounts of alcohol and inane chatter. I welcome it, ordering another round of boilermakers as quickly as possible to ensure the effects of the previous six or seven beers and four shots don’t wear off.
Denise and Carla have shown up with a couple of girlfriends and some guy one of the other girls is dating. Everyone is primarily interested in getting slammin’ drunk, so it’s working for me. Carla seems to sense I’m not myself, so she sticks pretty close, even chasing off one of the other girls who’s flirting heavily with me.
It’s a relief to be with Carla. No messy expectations or flaring emotions. My heart and my head are so exhausted after the last few months that I relish sitting and listening to her talk about some dumb concert she’s been to. It doesn’t require me to participate, and I can watch the rise and fall of her smooth breasts as she gestures along with her story.
From the midst of my haze, I hear Mike calling. “Dude! You ready to go? You look like you’ve about had it.”
I blink at him, trying to wrap my head around what he’s asking. Yeah, I’ve had it. Had it with baring my soul and my heart to someone who couldn’t give a shit. Had it with being the one with no power, the one who takes all the risks while she stays in the safety of her indecision and cheats me out of the rest of her.
“I got him,” I hear Carla tell Mike.
He looks at her hard. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, C.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” she answers.
His eyes dart between Carla and me. “You’re both going to regret it, I can guarantee that.”
“Dude,” I slur as I stagger to my feet. “It’s all good. C can give me a ride, can’t you, babe?”
She stands up, a sweet smile spreading across her face as she smooths a hand up my arm. “Sure. We’ll be fine, won’t we?”
Mike shakes his head before whispering something to Denise. She nods. “All right, man. I’ve got Denise. We’re out of here.” He waves to the others and leaves.
I look down at Carla, noticing how pretty her blue eyes are. Blue is my new favorite color.
“Let’s take the party somewhere quieter, huh?” I slur as I sling an arm around her shoulders.
“Right this way,” she tells me as we make our way toward the door.
Once we get outside, Carla decides it’d be better if we take a cab. I agree. I don’t give a shit how I get there, as long as there’s a bed at the end of the trip.
After we snag a cab, we fall into the back seat, giggling like…well, a couple of drunken fools. Pretty appropriate. Carla reels off an address that isn’t mine to the cabbie. Again, as long as there’s a bed, I don’t care.
I think I fall asleep for part of the ride home, because the next thing I know, the cabbie is asking for money and I’m digging my wallet out of my back pocket while Carla helps me out of the cab.
After we weave our way to her door, she spends a few minutes giggling while she tries to get the key in the lock. Finally, we bust into the living room. The lights are all off and she slaps around on the wall, trying to find a light switch.
“Shhh,” I chuckle. “You’re going to wake up the neighbors. We don’t need the lights anyway.” I grab her hand. “Which way is your room?” She pulls me toward a hallway that I can just barely see in the moonlight coming through the windows. A minute later, I find myself standing in the near darkness, looking down at Carla as she takes off her tank top and then her skirt. She’s standing in front of me in her underwear and bra, her long blond hair falling around her face.
My head is spinning and the scent of her perfume makes it spin harder. It’s a nice light scent, but it’s not wildflowers, and I feel my heart squeeze for a moment at the realization. Dammit. I should have had another shot.
“So,” I whisper as I brush my fingers along her hair from root to tip. “You’re all ready for bed.” I follow my finger with my lips.
“Yeah,” she breathes as she gingerly places her hands on my chest.
I touch her neck, grasping her jaw and chin finally as I look down at her. Her skin is soft and warm, and the ache in my soul is so fucking painful that I just need to feel her, feel something that helps the hurt go away.
“Do you hog the blankets?” I ask as I place a kiss on her temple.
She giggles quietly. “Mmm, not that I’ve heard. But you know, with the right friend in bed with me, I bet I wouldn’t even need blankets.” Her hands wander up my chest until they wind around my neck.
“You’ve got to know something, C.”
“Yeah?” she questions as she, rubs little circles on the back of my head.
I sigh and put my head down on her shoulder.
“It hurts. Everywhere. She fucking stripped me, and I’m not sure there’s anything left.”
“I know,” she soothes. She takes my hand and pulls me down on the bed with her. “I’m so sorry. Let me help.”
I blink back the tears that are trying to work their way from my heart out through my eyes. “Okay,” I sigh into her hair as we lie side by side. “Okay.”
“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” a voice chirps nearby.
As I come out of my daze, the first thing I’m aware of is that my head hurts like a bitch. The second thing is that it’s Carla’s voice I’m hearing. I slowly open my eyes to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee in her hands.
“Hey,” she talks quietly obviously realizing any loud noises right now would be highly detrimental to my health. “Here’s a cup of coffee to get you started.” She places it on the nightstand. “I’ll get you some toast and eggs. Come on out to the kitchen when you’re ready.” She smiles and stands to leave.
I look down at myself, noticing that I’m fully dressed. I squint, trying desperately to remember the previous night.
I clear my throat. “Um, wait,” I croak out before she walks out of the room.
She turns expectantly.
I scratch my head. This is really fucking awkward, something I’ve never, frankly, had to ask before.
“What did… I mean, I’m a little fuzzy on the details. Did we…?”
She laughs. “Nothing happened, Gabe. I promise. You passed out as soon as you hit the bed, and you snored so damn bad I ended up sleeping on the sofa.”
“Man, I’m really sorry. I mean about the snoring. The rest, well, it’s probably for the best.”
She nods and goes to leave but turns back. “I know she did a number on you, but it seems to me like somehow you’ve got to have some say in it. Don’t give up until you get it. It takes two to get involved, so it ought to take two to get out too.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’ve had a shower, some coffee, and a bit of food. I still feel like crap but not as crappy as I did before.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” I tell Carla as I finish loading my dishes in her dishwasher. “I really appreciate you letting me crash and feeding me and all.”
She gives me a small smile. “No problem.”
“Listen, about the whole passing out in your bed thing…”
“Don’t worry about it, Gabe. Honestly, I just wanted to help you feel better. You’re a great guy, and anyone can see how much you love her. I wasn’t under any illusions.”
Relief courses through me. Carla’s a great girl, and she doesn’t deserve to have a really fucked-up guy drag her into his messy head.
“So, friends?” I ask as I stick my hand out.
“For sure,” she answers, and I take her hand then pull her into a hug. As I release her, I give her a noogie and she shrieks before slapping me on the back and shoving me out of her front door.
The cab I called shows up a minute later, and in ten minutes I’m back home in front of my apartment, facing the void I can’
t seem to fill. Before I can even go inside, my phone chimes. It’s Mike texting:
Told Ramon u’d b late. You’ve got 30 min.
I sigh, head inside for my keys and a fresh t-shirt, and start the shit all over again.
Alexis
Los tiempos van cambiando.
The times, they are changing.
MY mom has been home from the hospital for nearly a whole day now. The doctors think she can have a full recovery, but she’s going to need to make a lot of lifestyle changes. The doctors sat with my dad and siblings and me this morning, before we checked Mom out and told us that the traditional Mexican diet my parents have been eating their whole lives isn’t the best thing for Mom’s heart. The lard and pork and salt Mom’s always used in so much of her cooking is cardio enemy number one, and if she’s going to make it to a nice old age without this happening again, she’s going to need to change the whole way she cooks and eats.
My dad is fine with this. My mom? Not so much. When we all sit her down at home to explain it, she launches into a thirty-minute diatribe in Spanish detailing how her mother cooked and all the women in her family before that cooked and how she’s always cooked the same way and no one else ever died from it and neither will she.
Next up on the list we were given is exercise. The doctors have of course said that she’ll need to start exercising. She scoffs at this. “What do you think I am? One of those rich gringa housewives who go to aerobics? Ay dios mio. Exercise? I clean the house, I worry about my children, and soon I hope to be chasing after grandchildren.” She gazes adoringly at my oldest brother whose wedding is in a few months. “That’s all the exercise I’ll ever need.”
Concealed - A Hiding From Love Novel #2 Page 13
