Contusion

by Ofelia Martinez

  The rest of the day is a constant race between Sara and the other nurses to rush fresh basins for my vomit. If that weren’t bad enough, by the evening, I’m spewing out the other end too. How the hell can you get diarrhea when you are vomiting everything you eat?

  By morning, my body feels like it’s been through five fights in a row, with no breaks, and lost all of them. I finally am able to keep down some mashed potatoes. It is a triumph because it means I don’t have to live in the hospital until chemo starts the following week.

  “I hear you finally ate and kept it down?” Dr. Ramirez walks in, pumps hand sanitizer on her hands, and sits next to me.

  “Yeah. It was pretty gnarly there for a second.”

  “Valentina, this is only going to get much worse before it gets better.”

  “I know. I’m in this. I swear.”

  “The standard of care is also a great option. We can go for less aggressive treatment over a longer period of time. You don’t have to be in this trial if it’s too much.”

  “It’s been one day, doc. You giving up on me already?”

  She laughs. “No. Of course not. It’s protocol that the patient understands we can stop at any time.”

  “I’m not stopping. Your chances are my best chances. Do your worst. I can take it.”

  “Okay, then. Since you can keep your food down, you can go home this afternoon. On Monday, you have your first chemo-radiation combo. Be here at eleven.”

  “I know. I know,” I say. “We go like that for five weeks.”

  “With weekends off,” she adds.

  “I never thanked you for breakfast the other day.”

  Dr. Ramirez smiles. “My pleasure. Amanda is a wonderful human. I was hoping you two would become friendly.”

  “We did. She’s great and a total riot.”

  Dr. Ramirez laughs at my assessment. “That’s one word to describe her. I personally use ‘firecracker.’”

  My phone buzzes on the table, and I grab it. It’s an unknown number.

  “Go ahead and take it. We are done here. I’ll have discharge papers here in a bit.”

  “Thanks, doctor. Really.”

  Turning my attention back to the phone, I answer. “Hello?”

  “Valentina, I’m so glad you picked up.” Rory’s voice sends my blood pressure through the roof. Crap. Why did I pick up? I should have known it was him.

  “Um, hey.” I press my hand to the phone, hoping the line doesn’t pick up any of the hospital sounds.

  “I’m calling about that date,” he says.

  “I’m not sure I’m free.”

  “I’ll check in with you Saturday morning. We can play it by ear. If you’re free, you’re free. If not, we can hang out another time.”

  “Uh, okay,” I say reluctantly. The thing is, his voice is the most comforting thing in this hospital room.

  “Valentina, can I say something without you freaking out?”

  “I suspect you will no matter what I say.”

  Rory laughs. “True.” Then his voice turns serious. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  Why does he have to go and say all the wonderful things? He was a play-thing, a boy-toy. I was meant to never see him again.

  Tell yourself what you want, Valentina. You gave him your number for a reason.

  I can’t stop thinking about him either. Memories of our day together have kept me sane the last twenty-four hours. But I can’t tell him that.

  “You are freaking out, aren’t you?” he asks.

  “No. I’m not freaking out.” I pout as though he can see me, and he laughs again.

  “Well, I need to get back to work. I just wanted to say, have a good day, and I’ll be thinking about you.”

  “Thank you, Rory. You have a good day too.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And, you will be thinking about me too.”

  “Fine. I’ll be thinking about you too.”

  I’m a bit panicked he might walk by my door, so I press the call button, and Sara’s head pops in. I ask her to close my door for privacy, and she tells me she’ll be right back with discharge paperwork.

  The strangest feeling comes over me as I wait. I started out this journey homesick for the gym, for Chema, and for Pili. But now, my homesickness is more about time with Rory, and Mandy, and even the cousins Izel and Tlali. It feels strangely like Kansas City is home, not Mexico. I won’t deny I miss Chema and my sister, but they don’t beat in the same spot in my heart that home beats anymore.

  Sara comes back to change the dressing over the two small laparoscopic incisions on my lower abdomen. I sign a stack of paperwork, get a prescription for pain medication I won’t fill, and take a ridiculous cab ride the two blocks to my apartment.

  I’m lying down and icing my belly when I get a text from Chema. My heart sinks. He knows nothing yet. The longer I’ve kept him at arms-length, the harder it has been for me to give him the excuse I had planned for him. I read all his texts in Spanish.

  Chema: Where are you?

  Me: I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you. I’m out of town.

  Chema: Out of town?

  Me: Yeah. I’m in the U.S.

  Chema: What? You never cleared it with me. You haven’t trained in a week!

  I don’t answer him again because I’m a chicken shit, but minutes later, the phone rings, and it’s him, and he’s furious.

  “What’s going on?” he clips as soon as I answer the call.

  “Hi, Chema. Miss you too.”

  “Don’t be cute.”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve me disappearing on you.”

  “What? You’re disappearing?”

  “I wanted to tell you in person. I thought I’d get a break soon so I could say this face-to-face, but that didn’t work out,” I lie. My chest constricts at the betrayal I’m about to lay on him. “I got an agent.”

  “That’s great, Tini! Why didn’t you tell me? I knew you were starting to get attention. We even had a reporter here yesterday looking for you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah,” Chema says, all the anger gone from his voice. I imagine his hulkish frame that never quite seems to fit his warm smile.

  “That’s a first,” I say, surprised.

  “I know. I’ll email you the details so you can tell your agent. If they want to do a feature at the gym while we train, that would be great for the gym too, Tini.”

  “Chema,” I say and feel the tears in my throat. “There’s more.”

  “What’s wrong?” His voice is all concern now.

  “My agent agency. They want me to train with someone else.”

  “You’re dropping me?”

  I take a deep breath. “I have no choice. It’s the only way the agent would sign me. I had to agree to the new coach and new training plan.”

  Chema laughs bitterly on the other end, and the sound knocks the wind out of me. “After everything we’ve been through? After getting you this far? This is how you repay me?”

  “I’m sorry, Chema. Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you. It just worked out this way.”

  “You know what the worst part is?”

  All of it, I think, but keep silent.

  “The worst part is I remember that gangly little kid with not a muscle on her body begging me and pestering me to train her.”

  “I remember,” I smile when I think of our start. “It took me four months to persuade you.”

  “You never persuaded me, Tini. You’re a force of nature. There isn’t a goal you set you don’t accomplish. You wanted me as your coach, and you showed up at my gym daily until you willed me into being your coach.”

  “I’m grateful for everything—”

  “Which is why I don’t buy this ‘it just worked out this way’ bullshit of yours. If you decided to drop me, that’s fine, but I deserve the respect of being your mentor—of being your friend. Hell, Tini, you’re my little sister. You owe
d it to me to tell me to my face. I’m your fucking family.”

  “Chema—” I croak out, but he is no longer on the phone with me.

  I roll to my side and curl my knees to my chest. A shiver runs through me, and the fetal position provides warmth. I cradle the phone in my hand, hoping he’ll call back. Hoping he’ll let me apologize. Hoping he’ll forgive me.

  But there is no call, and I fall asleep like that.

  Chapter 8

  Being sick sucks. The only good thing about it, and I really do mean the only good thing, is that I get to watch all the television I never got to when I was in training.

  I’m halfway through the live-action version of Beauty and the Beast when my doorbell rings.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, girl.” Mandy’s loud voice fills my living room from the intercom, and I wince at the sound.

  I buzz her in and unlock my door. I’m back on the couch when she enters my apartment.

  “How’s it going?” she asks.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I’m sure. Sorry I didn’t visit while you were in the hospital—”

  “It’s okay, Mandy. I know you work there. I don’t expect you to want to spend your time off there too.”

  “Wish that were it. I’m actually working overtime to get the pieces ready for the art show.”

  “That’s right. How’s that going?” I ask, and my face scrunches up with a short-lasting jolt of pain at the incision sites.

  “Where are your pain meds?” Mandy asks.

  “It’s nothing,” I say.

  “Don’t give me that. Where are they?” Mandy walks over to my kitchen and starts rummaging through my cabinets.

  “I didn’t fill the prescriptions,” I admit.

  “Valentina! Seriously? You’re going to need them soon.”

  “I’ll go to the hospital pharmacy at my next appointment. Happy?”

  “Barely,” she says and plops on the cushion next to me. “What are we watching?”

  “Beauty and the Beast.”

  “Oh, is this the one with Emma Watson as Belle? I love this version.”

  “Would you like me to start it over, Mandy?”

  She grins. “Thanks for taking the hint.”

  We both relax, and I forget all about the pain as we watch the movie. Her presence lifts me somehow and props me up. I only hope I can be the same for her if she ever needs this kind of support.

  My sister would be here now if I had told her and she was able to get away from her obligations. Who am I kidding? She could only be here if her husband were to give her permission, which is a big ‘if.’ I didn’t want to put her in that difficult position. Having Mandy in that sisterly role almost made up for Pilar’s absence. Almost.

  The movie is nearly over when my phone dings on the seat next to me. I smile at the nickname I saved Rory under until I realize Mandy’s gaze also followed the chime, probably thinking it was her own phone. Panic overtakes my smile.

  “Big Dick?” her eyebrow raises suggestively. “Who’s Big Dick?”

  “Oh my god. Shut up,” I say and grab the phone so she can’t read his full text.

  Mandy pauses the movie and turns to face me instead. “Come on, give up the goods.”

  “Fine. Just that one night stand I already told you about.”

  Mandy raises an eyebrow. “You exchanged phone numbers with a one night stand?”

  “It was a mistake, okay? Chemo brain.”

  “Oh no, you don’t. You gave him your number before you started treatment. Besides, it’s too soon for chemo brain. Oh,” she says, and her mouth forms into a smile.

  “What?”

  “You like him.”

  I avert my gaze.

  She relents, finally, and starts playing the movie again. I read the text that came through.

  Rory: You end up being free?

  I sigh. It’s Saturday, and he is claiming his date. If only I could go with him. It’s not like I don’t want to go, but I have no energy. I make up an excuse. I base it on truth, so it’ll be harder to slip in my story. I was having enough of a hard time casting the web of lies with Chema and Pili as it was.

  Me: Yes. But I can’t. I’m not feeling well.

  Rory: What’s wrong?

  Me: Just a stomach bug. Raincheck? I wouldn’t want to get you sick.

  I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to spin that lie and keep Rory at bay, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to him yet.

  “Chica, you should see the smile on your face,” says Mandy.

  I roll my eyes and grab a cushion, hugging it to my body. The credits roll, and Mandy and I both sigh after the Beast.

  “You know,” she says over the credits’ music. “There’s a massive plot hole in Beauty and the Beast.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “Belle should have totally tapped Gaston’s fine ass.”

  “No, she shouldn’t have!” I say, appalled at the travesty she just suggested.

  “Oh, come on, tell me, if you had been in a little town like that with few options, you wouldn’t have had a little fun with him?”

  “He is really hot, isn’t he?” I ask sheepishly.

  Mandy nods. “And athletic, which I’m sure is your type.” Mandy stands and stretches her arms over her head. “Between your text from Big Dick and watching Gaston grunt in that fight scene, I seriously want some. I’m going to go see what Chris is up to.”

  “Okay. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Sure thing. Oh, tomorrow night, if you're feeling up to it—and only if you are feeling up to it—I’ll pick you up for dinner. We have Sunday family dinners, and you can meet my parents.”

  “I’ll let you know if it’s a good day.”

  Mandy leaves, and I scroll through movie options to pick my next movie when a knock at the door distracts me. It’s strange because I didn’t buzz anyone up. I wonder if Mandy is back for some reason.

  “Did you forget something—” I start to ask, opening the door, but freeze when I see him. For a long moment, I don’t know what to do. My jaw drops.

  Rory stands in front of me, handsome as I remembered him, with a grocery sack in each hand. “Can I come in?” he asks.

  “Um, sure. Sorry.” I move aside, and he steps through, making his way to the kitchen.

  “No offense, but you look like crap,” he says.

  “You should have just said offense.”

  He chuckles, but the concern continues to crease his brows. “You lose a fight or something?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Am I ever going to get to watch you fight?” he asks.

  The question saddens me more than I would have thought. The truth is, I have no idea if I’ll ever get back to the cage. “What’s that?” I ask as I try to peer into the grocery bags he has placed on my counter. Changing the subject is safer. I avoid sitting at the barstool because barstools and Rory in the same room are a dangerous proposition, and I’m still weak from my first round of treatment.

  “Well,” he says. “You said you were sick, so I brought supplies. You know I’m a doctor, right?”

  “Yeah, you mentioned.”

  He starts pulling out items and turns them on the counter so they face me. First in the lineup is a tall white container. “Chicken noodle soup,” he says. I hope it’s better than what they serve at the hospital, but I stay quiet. “Crackers.” He pulls out a six-pack of ginger ale and puts that in the fridge.

  “You really didn’t have to do all this, Rory.”

  “I know.” He shrugs. “I wanted to. And that’s not all.” He keeps pulling items from the bags, and I can’t help but laugh when I see the rest of his purchases. There’s a familiar blue container of Vick’s Vapor Rub—or vaporú as we call it in Mexico—and a tall candle with the Virgen de la Guadalupe on it.

  “You’re unreal,” I say through a laugh that sends a small shock of pain through my incisions. I play it off and k
eep talking. “How did you know?”

  “You okay?” He asks with concern.

  I scramble through my brain for a lie. “Yeah. Just a bit of a stomachache.”

  He nods. “I searched online for Mexican home remedies, and these two items came up a lot. Sprite and lemon did too, but I thought it might be a bit much.”

  “Oh, that would be a bit much? How’d you think to do this?”

  “Every culture has its own home remedies. It’s kind of interesting to a doctor. Would you like some soup?”

  I shake my head. “Not really hungry yet. Later?”

  “Sure. You staying hydrated?”

  “Okay, you know you’re not actually my doctor, right?”

  Rory’s hands shoot up in surrender and then he places the soup container in the fridge too.

  “Well, thanks for stopping by, and you know, checking in.”

  “You kicking me out?”

  “No, I just—” I bite my lip and look away from him. “I can’t imagine you’d want to hang out with me while I’m sick. And besides, it’s kind of gross. I’m not ready for you to hear those sounds.”

  “If I may, I would like to counter those points,” he says seriously as he counts fingers. “One, I’m a doctor. No sound to escape you should embarrass you. Two, yes, hanging out with you is exactly what I want. Three, if you are worried about getting me sick, don’t. Work a year at a hospital, and you will have the immune system of a god. And four, I would cheer you up.”

  “Fine,” I say, happier than I would have liked. “But no funny business. I’m just being lazy on the couch and watching TV.”

  “That’s exactly what I would have prescribed,” he says and kicks off his shoes before taking his spot on the couch. “Seriously, though. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well.”

  I sit next to him, and it must be too far for his liking because he wraps his arms around me and scoots me to his side so I can cuddle next to him. I bask in the warmth of his body, and he keeps one arm around me as we scroll through our options.

  He makes me watch a sci-fi show about androids who raise children on another planet, and it isn’t half bad. I make him watch the most recent female flyweight MMA championship. He’s like a little kid, staring amazed at the screen. It’s almost as if he can’t believe women are so tough.