by Sierra Hill
My skin prickles as Albert steps in closer. His large body presses up behind me, and his hand comes down to touch my shoulder. I have on a strappy tank top and his big, sweaty palm sends ribbons of unease down my back. Anyone looking out at us would only see just a friendly touch. But I feel his thumb working its way underneath the thin spaghetti strap and I quickly dislodge him by stepping forward and shuttling AJ over to his brother and sister.
Alberto clears his throat and out of the corner of my eye I see his hand land at his crotch as he adjusts himself.
Gross.
I don’t understand why I’m the only one who sees how sleazy Alberto really is. He’s this two-faced person; the one my parents and family see is the hard working, business owner who is a pillar in our Hispanic community. The one they look to who provides jobs to those in need; who trains young Hispanic men to earn a living and gain a skill; who helps troubled youth.
And the other man is someone who creeps me out by the way he stares at me with lust-filled eyes, finding ways to corner me when no one else is around. Breathes heavily in my ear and makes comments about how ‘sweet I smell’ or ‘sexy I look.’
Each time he finds me alone, he gets bolder and takes more privilege with me. And I know he won’t stop until I put an end to it. He’ll continue making me uncomfortable until something I don’t want to have happen, happens.
“You look so maternal with these niños, mi amada,” he says in Spanish, his voice low and laden with innuendo. “I imagine what you would look like carrying a baby inside you. My baby.”
Yep, there it is. I shudder with disgust.
“You know I’m not ready for children. Or marriage, for that matter.”
I’ve walked over to the other side of the jungle gym equipment and suddenly he’s right there behind me again. If someone were at the kitchen window looking out at us, they wouldn’t see his hand sliding up the back of my thigh to my butt. Groping me.
Once again, I step out of his reach, but not before I hear him say, “You don’t need to be married for that, my sexy angel. I would gladly plant my seed inside your hot, ripe womb. You good girls always want a bad daddy.”
Fear overcomes me, but not before a wave of nausea hits my stomach. Does he even hear himself? What a disgusting pig.
I turn then, my tongue sharp and my eyes blazing. “Alberto, I do not want you to be the father of my children. Not now and not ever. I’m sorry if you think otherwise, but I want you to leave me alone. I’m in a relationship with someone else and I’m not interested in marrying you.”
He chuffs at this as if it’s absurd. “That is not what your parents have told me. They believe you are intended for me. And I’ve agreed to wait to marry until you’re done with school. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun now, chica. I don’t care about this ‘gringo’ you’ve been dating,” he says with a dismissive flip of his hand “He is nothing. He can’t take care of you like I can.”
Alberto licks his lips and grins, his stained teeth exposed when his upper lip curls up.
Now I’m just mad. Although I still have the baby in my arms, I spin around and try to make myself appear bigger than I really am, my words strong, fast and tumbling out in Spanish.
“First of all, I am fully capable of taking care of myself and don’t need any help from the likes of you or anyone else, for that matter. Secondly, when I have children, it will be with someone I love and respect. And frankly, that is not you. If you so much as lay another hand on me ever again, my father and my brothers and cousins will be notified, and you won’t be able to lift a wrench in your garage for months. Do yourself a favor and leave now.”
My entire body shakes as I hustle the kids back into the house, as they whine at how mean I am for making them go. But I don’t care. I just want to gain distance from Alberto, so I can catch my breath and stop the bile from reaching my throat.
Pushing into the back doorway, I hand the baby off to my sister and run into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water in my face, sucking back the tears that threaten to spill over. All I want right now is to have Lance wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. Reassure me that he does love me.
But he’s not here and that spikes my anger even further. I don’t normally succumb to irritation or frustration, but today is not a good day.
Pulling out my phone, I decide to call Lance. I need to talk to him. I need to see him.
The phone rings,
and rings,
and rings.
It goes to voicemail. I call again.
Same thing. Voicemail.
But I’m not to be deterred. I call a third time.
Finally, he answers.
But it’s not him. It’s some other male voice that I don’t recognize.
“Yo, who dis?”
I check the phone display to make sure I indeed dialed his number correctly in my haste, and sure enough, it says Lance on the screen.
My confusion mounts as my silence remains and the guy gets more irritated.
“You’ve got two seconds to tell me what you want.”
“Uh, I’m looking for Lance. Is he around?”
There’s a low chuckle. “Yeah, sweetheart, he’s here somewhere.”
My annoyance is now at a record high. My blood boils.
“Can you get him for me? Please?”
“Jesus, just a minute,” he grunts.
It sounds like he’s walking now, maybe up some stairs. There are voices in the background, some shuffling, laughter, music. I can hear him breathing into the line. Then a door cracking open.
Muffled voices. Then the guy says, “Lance, someone’s looking for you.”
Then silence. More shuffling. I hear some rustling.
“Lance, dude, wake up. You okay?”
Silence.
More silence.
Then the guy’s voice is higher. Louder. Panicked.
“Yo, bro. Wake the fuck up.”
The phone is obviously dropped on the floor, because the thud is loud in my ears and then I hear shouts. Calls for help. People entering the room. More shouts. Loud noise.
“Hello? Hello?” I scream into the phone in a shrill voice, hoping someone can hear me and realizes I’m still on the phone.
I have no idea what’s going on or where he is or who is there.
All I know is there’s a commotion on the other end of the line and it sounds like there are at least three or four people in the room. Bile rises in my throat and this time I fear I might throw up. I hear someone yell ‘Call a fucking ambulance!’
What?
NO
NO
NO
NO
Panic rips through me, my heart beating wildly and erratically in my chest. I’m dizzy and grip the side of the tiled bathroom vanity. I don’t even realize until I glance up into the mirror that tears are streaming down my face.
“Hello? Please, someone. Is anyone there? Please tell me what’s going on with Lance? Where is he? Please…”
And then the line is dead.
And I think my heart dies along with it.
25
Lance
I see my brother.
He’s smiling and waving at me. But he’s so far away.
I’m so excited that he’s there that I begin running toward him. Every step I take, it seems the distance grows larger and he gets further and further away.
And then my mother steps into view.
Her smile is angelic and beautiful. She waves as well. She and my brother are holding hands, both smiling and just standing there. Far enough away that I can’t reach them, but close enough that I know it’s them.
I’m so happy to see them that it doesn’t register for a second that I don’t know why they’re here. What are they doing?
I call out, panicked and frantic.
“Mom! Landon!”
They smile and stare off behind me, as if they don’t see me.
Then there’s light so brigh
t I have to shield my eyes from the intensity. My eyes close on their own accord and when I open them again, my mom and Landon have turned away from me.
“No, wait!” I call out, my voice penetrating the silence. “Where are you going?”
They’re walking away from me.
“No, don’t go!” I plead, rushing forward but being stopped by my own feet which seem rooted to the ground.
It feels like quicksand and I’m being pulled down…
Down…
Down…
Down…
And then the light has disappeared, and I’m surrounded in pitch darkness.
Black.
I wake to the sound of low whispers and murmurs. My body feels weighted down with cement blocks. When I try to swallow I realize there’s something in my throat. I panic and thrash around until I feel calming hands on my arms and legs.
“It’s okay, Lance. We got you.”
It’s Cade’s voice.
When I can finally pry my eyes open, everything is blurry like I’m peering through a foggy lens. Blinking a few times to clear my vision, I turn my head in the direction of his voice and both he and Ainsley come into view. They’re standing next to one another at the side of the bed.
Bed.
My eyes shift down the length of my torso. An unfamiliar blue blanket covers my legs and I’m wearing what looks like a hospital gown.
Dread and fear propels me upright, but I’m quickly shoved back down with Cade’s hand against my chest.
“Lay still, bro. Carver’s getting the nurse and we’ll see about taking out the tube from your throat. It might take a while, so hang tight.”
Carver’s here too?
What the hell am I doing here? Where the hell am I?
I have a vague recollection that my mom and Landon were here with me at my side, but of course they’re not here now. They’re dead and gone.
Bits and pieces, like a puzzle strewn across a table, start fitting together as images pop back into my brain.
Coach Parker’s conversation.
A call from my dad. He was going to stop paying my tuition if I continue seeing Mica.
Avoiding Mica. Hating myself for doing it.
Guilt. Grief. Sadness.
Dodi’s house.
Party.
Booze.
Some girl handing me pills.
Lots of pills.
Texts from Mica. Looking for me. Pleading with me to call her. Knowing I was no good for her and she’d be better off without me.
More pills.
And then blank. Nothing.
Tears sting the back of my eyelids and I shut my eyes and turn my head in the opposite direction, so Cade can’t see what a mess I am. What a pussy. Cry baby. Fucked up loser I am.
But then again, if I’m in a hospital bed, he likely already knows this about me.
Soon I hear the shuffling footsteps and a nurse is at my bedside.
“I’m going to take this tube out of your throat, Lance. I just need you to breathe through your nose, relax and blow out of your mouth when I tell you to, okay?”
I stare at her with blank eyes and give her a slight nod of my head.
The process is painless but uncomfortable, causing me to cough and hack. Once out, I realize how dry my mouth and throat are and I start sputtering in desperate need of water.
Suddenly out of the blue, a cup appears in front of my face and I reach for it with shaky hands. When I look at my hand at the tubes and wires shoved through my veins, I wonder how long I’ve been out.
And then more fear slithers through me. Do the coaches know? Have they been notified? If so, am I still on the team? They’d surely know by now that I had drugs in my system.
Shit, I’m fucked.
As if he can see all the questions written across my face, Cade removes the cup from my hands and turns to Ainsley.
“Can you give us a few minutes alone?"
Her response is soft and assuring. “Of course. I’ll be out in the hallway.”
Before she leaves, she places a comforting hand on my leg. “We love you, Lance. You scared the shit out of us, but we’re glad you made it through. So is Mica.”
The words are double-edged. I’m both relieved and angry with myself for putting them through this. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure it wasn’t good, otherwise I wouldn’t be in this hospital bed.
And Mica. God, I’m scared to find out what she thinks of me now. Surely, she now realizes that I’m a coward and finally knows how fucked up I really am. No wonder she isn’t here with me. I don’t fucking blame her.
When Ainsley leaves the room, I turn my head to face Cade. Clearing my throat, I say the first words I can remember speaking in days.
“I didn’t mean to…”
Shit, this is harder than I thought and my voice cracks. “I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t try to kill myself. You know that, right?”
Cade sits at the edge of the bed and looks directly in my eyes.
“Whether you meant to or not, I think you’ve slowly been killing yourself and you’ve been hiding it from everyone.”
Well, fuck. I can’t disagree with that.
“Maybe…probably.”
I swallow, shifting my gaze to look out the hospital window at the sunshine and blue sky. Such a contradiction to the cold, harsh gray inside of me.
Cade’s right. I’ve been dousing my pain and self-hatred for years, starting with booze in my mid-teens. I was hiding my guilt and loneliness with alcohol as often as I could get my hands on it because it was the only thing that made me feel better about myself. I drank to dull the razor-sharp edges of my life and bury that god-awful self-loathing.
And then I tried pills and they worked even better.
Until they didn’t.
“What happened? Do you know?” I ask Cade, in hopes that he can unravel this mystery for me that’s been blocked out of my memory.
He stands and moves away from the bed, turning his back for a second. His head is bent in what looks like sorrow.
“Mica,” he murmurs, and I gasp.
My heart plummets to the floor. “Holy shit, where is she? Did I hurt her?”
Because I don’t remember much after blacking out, I have no idea where Mica was during all of this and what I may have said or done if I was with her.
His head whips sharply back to me, his eyes pinning me with a glare.
“Yeah, you hurt her, dude. Just not physically.”
And then he tells me what happened.
I’d been avoiding her for days. That much I remember. I was too fucked up to be in her company because I knew I would only bring her down. Plus, I was hanging out with people I knew she wouldn’t approve of. She’d be able to see right through me and would dump my ass.
Part of me had hoped she’d break up with me so I wouldn’t have to do it. I’m a coward and knew she needed to get the hell away from me.
“You were at some drug dealers house when you OD’d. She’d been calling and calling, trying to reach you and you never answered, until finally someone else did. You were at a goddamn dealer’s house, Lance! What the fuck?”
Cade’s voice is loud and explosive. Angry. So very angry with me and I don’t blame him a bit.
He grows quiet for a moment, contemplative, searching my eyes for explanation.
“Why? I just don’t understand.”
I’m bitter and my words carry a bite. “No, you wouldn’t understand. Neither you or Carver. Your lives are perfect. Perfect families. You have everything you want. You haven’t experienced a life like I have. You don’t know what it’s like to kill someone you love. Or watch them die right in front of you. Or be reminded of it every time you close your eyes. Or get verbally abused by your dad.”
His eyes are blown wide in surprise because this is all new information to him. I’ve never shared it with anyone.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve never killed anyone. I know your mom d
ied of cancer. You didn’t cause that.”
I scoff at his naiveté.
“I killed my brother and that led to my mother’s drinking, which directly led to her cancer. So yeah, I caused her death.”
His face softens and grows sad. His eyes glisten with what looks like unshed tears.
“Your brother? I didn’t even know you had a brother, man.”
Closing my eyes to avoid his condemnation, I tell him. I tell him everything.
Tears pour down my face as I tell him about Landon and I swipe them away. Tears that have been bottled up for years come gushing out like a torrential rain. Hard and cold. I suck in gasps of air, sputtering them out as Cade comes over and wraps his arms around my shoulders. My head lands against his chest in a desperate thud.
“Dude, you’re not alone. You’re never alone. It wasn’t your fault. You need to know that. And you need to deal with this shit, man. And we’re all here to help you, Mica even more than any of us. She loves you and wants to see you get well.”
I pull back and he lets me go.
Shaking my head, I’m adamant about this and I won’t change my mind.
“I don’t want to see Mica. Tell her not to visit me. She needs to move on.”
26
Mica
I can’t stop crying. I’ve been bawling my eyes out for over two hours and the tears haven’t dried up yet. They just keep falling.
When I’d finished with my classes for the day and came to the hospital to visit Lance, I’d been greeted by Ainsley, Cade and Carver, their faces downcast and etched with sorrow and regret.
At first, I thought he’d died and lost my breath for that one moment. But I knew that wasn’t the case, because I’d received a text earlier from Ainsley telling me he’d finally come to and they’d removed the intubator.
As I approached the group, Ainsley was the first to step forward, the two guys shifting uncomfortably with their hands in their pockets.
