“Did he tell you why he took you?” Yesenia asked.
Cel shook her head.
Yesenia looked away and also shook her head, disgusted. “That boy was never right in the head. Loco follador.”
The moment passed.
“What about Lauren?” Cel asked. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” Yesenia gestured at a red vase of wilting daisies on the window sill. “Those are from her family. For saving her.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Two weeks.” Yesenia glanced at Cel’s stomach. “You lost a lot of blood. The bullet went through your stomach and pancreas.”
Cel dropped her chin and looked at her abdomen, bit her lip again, chewed for long seconds. Yesenia squeezed Cel’s hand, and Cel locked eyes with her abuela. “Did Parker’s family already have a funeral for him?”
Yesenia nodded. “It was nice. I went with Natalie, Craig, Omar, and Kris. He’s at Gallagher Cemetery, close to where his father is buried. Beverly, Jennifer, and Jill have come by here with flowers to check on you a few times, too, por extrano que parezca.”
Cel’s eyes widened, her expression saying, Really?
Yesenia’s brow rose. “I know. I don’t think they want to be friends or anything, but they said they’re sorry for blaming you about what happened to Parker.”
As Cel’s eyes moved around the room, Yesenia said, “Lots of people have been coming by. Natalie comes every day and Omar on the weekends.” She gestured at the pan de polvo on the table with her eyes. “Natalie and Omar brought those yesterday. Last week I taught Natalie how to make them, and those are from her third try by herself. She said the first two didn’t turn out so well.”
Cel eyed the cookies and a slight simper touched her dry lips.
“Sterling and Hart have stopped in, too.”
Panic seized Cel’s chest and must’ve also touched her eyes because Yesenia squeezed her hand again. “Don’t worry, mija. You’re not in trouble. They know it was self-defense. They just want to talk to you about what happened, get your side of the story. They assume you were kidnapped like Lauren and Parker, and Lauren already told them how you crawled upstairs after Jeff shot you and told her you’d killed him but that he stabbed Parker.”
Cel pushed out a long breath, the work of her diaphragm sending barbs of pain through her abdomen, and closed her eyes.
“Everything will be okay, mija,” Yesenia assured, stroking Cel’s head. “I promise. This dark stint will pass.”
Cel knew her abuela was right. It would be hard, but it would pass. It would just take time. Time for the heartache and guilt and paranoia to subside. Time for the reassurances of justification to take root and sprout and cover everything else. Yes, eventually, she’d be able to forget what she’d done, to erase the image of Parker’s dead eyes from her mind, to feel happy again, find purpose. She just had to keep breathing, keep drinking, keep eating, keep moving, keep living. Bury her wayward emotions so deep they couldn’t survive. Break apart and compartmentalize her past actions so well they couldn’t form a cohesive narrative in her mind. Remind herself daily that she wasn’t a bad person, that she’d made the right choice, the only choice. That she was strong and patient and resilient. Of course she was going to miss Parker something fierce, always, but she could get through this dark stint. Just like after Abby.
When Yesenia began whispering the same soothing spell she’d whispered over Cel a thousand times before, Cel joined her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jeremy Hepler is the Bram Stoker-nominated author of The Boulevard Monster as well as numerous short stories and nonfiction articles. He received the Texas Panhandle Professional Writer’s Short Story Award in 2014, and his debut novel was a Bram Stoker Award finalist in the Superior Achievement in a First Novel category in 2017. He lives in the heart of Texas with his wife and son where he's working on his next novel. For more information, you can follow him on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Goodreads, and Amazon.
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