Contusion

by Ofelia Martinez

  Pilar hadn’t thought to let me know, she simply wanted to know I was safe, but she knew I was sick when she saw the photos. I make Chema show me the images they’ve seen. He has them saved to his phone. The PI took pictures as I left the hospital. This was before I lost my hair. The image of the girl in the photo is unrecognizable even to me. She is me, but with no indication of muscles ever having existed, sunken eyes, and a greyish pallor.

  The truth is, if at this moment Chema showed me a picture of Pilar looking like that, I would move heaven and earth to find her and make sure she was okay. I can’t begrudge them for caring. Even if it means my parents were on their way.

  How could I ever confront them? Neither of them will care about my anger and instead only be angry at me for hiding this. Not once, in my brief adult life, have I let them dictate what my life would look like—an ever-irritating sore on Dad’s side, and this will only give them more ammunition to try to convince me they know what is best for me.

  I take a deep breath. Don’t worry about them until you have to. Instead, I focus my attention on my sister. I owe her an explanation. “Chema? Could you give me some privacy? I need to call Pilar.” He nods and is about to go on a quest for decent coffee when Mandy rushes into my room in a whirl.

  “Is it true?” she asks hurriedly. She brushes the hair off her face and eyes Chema up and down with a glint in her eye. “You’re married? Way to keep a secret, woman,” she scorns.

  “He’s not my husband,” I say and glare at Chema. “He’s my coach and more like family.”

  “Then why does the entire oncology floor think you’re married?”

  “I lied to be able to see her,” he admits and hangs his head.

  “Is that right,” Amanda says, grinning at him and tossing her hair over one shoulder.

  “Mandy! Stop it. You’re with Chris.” I can’t believe this woman. She flirts with anything that moves.

  “It’s not serious, and we have never said we are exclusive,” she says to me but looks at Chema the entire time. I roll my eyes.

  “Well, I’m in a serious relationship. Afraid I’m—”

  “Taken,” I cut Chema off.

  His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at me, but he extends a hand to shake Mandy’s, and her face falls with disappointment for a beat before she takes it. “Chema. Nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, you too,” she says.

  “Mandy, I need to call my sister. Chema was on his way to search for coffee. Give him the lay of the land?”

  “Sure,” she says and smiles encouragingly at me. I know she is happy I’m finally letting my family know.

  The video call rings only once, and Pilar glares at me through puffy, red eyes that match Chema’s. She opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “We’ve been so worried, Tini. You have no idea.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I plead.

  “I knew whatever you needed the money for was important, so I gave it to you even knowing you were lying out of your ass. But I never imagined it was life or death or I would have—”

  “Would have what, Pilar? Come to see me? To help?”

  She crosses her arms and looks away from the camera. We both know that’s not an option, if her controlling husband has anything to say about it.

  “I don’t know,” she says finally. “But I would have done something. You’re my baby sister. You are a big part of the tiny light that exists in my life. I can’t make it without you, Tini. Please don’t ever pull shit like this again. You hear me?”

  “I hear you. I promise I won’t.” And for the first time, I mean it. The heartbreak evident in my sister’s eyes hurts more than any chemo and radiation side effects. She has been hurt enough in her life, and I can’t be yet another person to let her down.

  “I’m sorry. Mom and Dad are on their way,” she says.

  “I know you shield me from them as much as you can.”

  “You’ve noticed that?”

  I nod. “Pilar, if I’ve learned anything from all this, it’s that life is short. I hope I don’t die from this, but even if I do, as brief as my life has been so far, I got to do what I loved. If you were in my shoes and you were facing death, could you say the same?”

  “So that’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to play the cancer card and hold it over everyone around you?”

  “Only the ones I love,” I say and smile.

  Pilar doesn’t engage the topic I tried to broach. Instead, I bring her up to speed on my treatment and we say our goodbyes and end the call, both of us sad but also a bit hopeful.

  There’s nothing left to do with the rest of my day but lay on my hospital bed and rehearse what I want to say to my parents. They need to know that while I share a big part of the blame for pushing off my regular checkups, they could have prevented it all. They need to know what a mistake they have made. And maybe, if I’m brave enough, I’ll tell Dad precisely what I think of him. I was always too intimidated by him to do that. My young age and dependability prevented me from confronting him with his failures as a father, but now I am old enough to know better. My spine has strengthened, and this experience with cancer has matured me more than just physically. It would be now, or it would never be.

  I’m saved from having the dread of time suffocating me by Rory finally showing up.

  “Hey,” he says but can’t look at me.

  “Rory!” I smile at him.

  “Just came to drop off your key. I got all my stuff out of your apartment, and you don’t have to see me ever again—”

  “Rory, you don’t have to—”

  His voice deepens. “Yes, I do. I have to.”

  “Chema is my coach. Not my husband.”

  His head snaps up, and his eyes narrow, searching for the truth.

  “He only said that so he could get my medical information.”

  “He can be arrested for that,” Rory says.

  “No. He won’t. I’m okay with it. Frankly, I’ve put him through hell.”

  “So you two, you were—”

  “No,” I shake my head. “He is my coach and a good friend—that’s it.”

  Rory doesn’t seem fully appeased, but he takes a step forward, giving me hope.

  Chema walks in then, clutching a mammoth cup of coffee that still looks puny in his hand and a bag with something that smells wonderful. “Brought you some breakfast,” he says cheerily. “Hello.” He smiles at Rory as he hands me the paper sack.

  “Hello,” Rory says but blinks as he tries to make sense of the situation.

  I open the bag to find what I can only assume are burritos.

  “Can you believe they put eggs in burritos?” Chema asks.

  I shake my head and chuckle. My dear friend is about to have the same rude awakening with food I had when I first arrived. The truth is, I haven’t eaten a burrito but a few times in my life. The last I remember was when my father had a trip to Chihuahua in Northern Mexico, where the burrito is king. It was one of those rare occasions when he brought his cumbersome family along. But those burritos had delicious grilled meat and beans with fresh avocado slices. Not eggs and cheese so greasy it leaks out of the flour tortilla rendering it soggy.

  Still, I’m famished and take a healthy bite, which I have to admit, is not half bad. “I guess you two met while I was out of it?” I ask through the chewing.

  Both men nod.

  “I explained to Rory you’re my coach,” I say to Chema, “and not my husband.”

  Chema looks at Rory a bit sheepishly but still sizing him up with his glare. I’m proud when Rory stands tall, not at all intimidated by the meathead in the room.

  “I’m sorry about that, buddy,” says Chema. “I’m her coach. Actually, I’m—”

  “Also a good friend,” I say. Chema side-glances me.

  “Oh.” Rory cups the back of his neck.

  “Sorry for the misunderstanding. As you can imagine, Valentina here had me
and her family worried. I had to take drastic measures.”

  “Right, um, well, anyway, I assume you are staying with Valentina for a bit?” Rory asks.

  Chema nods.

  “Good. I’ll be less worried,” says Rory.

  The proposed plan is appealing. The man I have the hots for doesn’t have to see my physical decline, and one of my best friends can help me if I need it. I’m not sure when I became okay with the idea of help, but I did. It might have to do with the fact that not letting the people in my life who love me help me was in fact hurting them. I was hurting them, and I don’t want to keep on hurting them.

  “Chema? Are you staying for a while?”

  “Until you’re out of the woods,” he says.

  “And the gym?”

  “It’s taken care of. Don’t worry.”

  “Well, um. I gave Valentina her spare key back. You can take that. I can show you to her apartment if you’d like,” says Rory to Chema.

  “Why don’t we wait for me to be discharged, and we can go together?” I ask, suddenly nervous about leaving them together alone.

  “They’re keeping you overnight for observation, making sure you’re responding well to the antibiotics, but you look much better, so I’m sure they’ll discharge you in the morning,” says Rory, who I know had to ask Sara for that information.

  It’s not ideal, but I have no further objections. At least not persuasive ones. I reassure Chema I’ll be fine while he goes to freshen up and catch a nap before coming back.

  “Rory?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll see you soon?” I ask because it is a question.

  Rory’s mouth upturns into a crooked smile, almost as if he were upset by the new arrangement. “Yeah, soon,” he says.

  Rory walks out of the room first, and Chema lingers for a bit.

  “You aren’t going to tell him I’m—”

  “Don’t you dare tell him,” I warn my gentle giant, and he smiles knowingly at me. “Chema, thanks for coming. I’m glad you’re here. Really.”

  “I’m always here for you, Tini,” he says and walks out of my room after Rory. I can only imagine what they will talk about.

  Chapter 14

  “Oh my god,” Mandy squeals. “You guys need to see him. He is so hot,” she informs Tlali and Izel who are both huddled around my bed.

  As soon as evening visiting hours started and everyone got off work, my room filled up. Chema is still at my apartment, but my new girlfriends keep me company. Sara even lingers after she checks on me to catch some of the girl-talk. When I first came to Kansas City, I never imagined I’d end up with a hospital room full of friends. I was prepared for lonesome and restless long stints in the hospital, but that has been the furthest from the truth.

  “Is he coming back?” Izel asks and grabs a potato chip from a bag inside her purse.

  “God, I hope so,” Mandy says dreamily.

  “Stop it,” I warn. “You are taken. He’s taken.”

  “You sound a little possessive there,” she says and isn’t even a little discreet when she glances at Rory, who is sitting in the corner of the room.

  Rory’s jaw ticks, and he stands up, probably not wishing to continue to let Mandy target him with her directness. “I’ll leave you ladies to it, then. Valentina, I’ll swing by tomorrow. I’m guessing you’ll have your plate full tonight.”

  He tries to jab at the girls, who all giggle, but I already told him my parents would be showing up soon. “Yeah. See you later.”

  He steps past Mandy, and lands a peck on my cheek, then smiles at me. As he walks away, I don’t miss Tlali looking between us as she presses her hand to her heart.

  “He is so sweet,” says Tlali.

  “I couldn’t believe Mandy when she told me you were dating a doctor here,” says Izel.

  “In my defense, I didn’t know he was a doctor here when I met him at the bar.”

  “He looked a bit jealous,” Mandy says with a mocking smile.

  I smile back.

  “I knew it. You are trying to make him jealous,” Mandy accuses.

  “No. I’m not trying to make him jealous,” I say. “But I’ll admit I’m not mad about it. He’s kind of cute when he’s angry, isn’t he?”

  “Guys, you’re all missing the bigger picture here. Not that Dr. Dennis isn’t super cute and everything, but Chema! We need to get back to Chema. Is his relationship serious?” Mandy asks. “Because I’d love to move to Mexico.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “What does he look like?” Izel asks. “Like, compare him to a celebrity so we can have an idea.”

  Mandy’s index finger taps her chin, and she chews the inside of her lip for a second. “I got it,” she says. “He is ripped. And I mean Ripped. Think of the body of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger. His face, it’s a cross between the manly features of Antonio Banderas, and the sculpted jaw of Henry Cavill.” Mandy nods, pleased with herself.

  I think about that description and picture, Chema. She kind of nailed it.

  Sara laughs. “That’s pretty accurate,” she says, then excuses herself to check on other patients.

  “Okay, that I have to see,” Tlali says.

  Mandy proceeds to fill us in with updates about Chris and her upcoming art show. I’m hoping I get to go. Izel and Tlali don’t have much to report, though they continue to motivate each other with their artistic projects even after their long shifts at work. I’m glad they squeeze time to come chat with me here in there, as busy as they all are.

  The conversation is upbeat, and I’m so grateful that my body’s ailments are forgotten, if even for a moment. I don’t see the sick Valentina reflected in these women’s eyes. The hospital walls melt away from my periphery, and I can almost see myself having this conversation at a bar over dirty martinis. In my mind’s eye, I’m healthy, pink at the cheeks, and my hair is still long. The distraction of this conversation is so welcome, I’m even glad Chema hasn’t returned.

  The happy mood doesn’t last because late that afternoon before Chema has a chance to come back and be my reinforcement, I have two new visitors show up.

  The last two people I wanted to see me sick.

  My parents.

  We are laughing and in the heat of our conversation when a booming voice fills the room, silencing us all.

  “Valentina?” His voice is deep and cool, making my stomach drop.

  We all turn to the door, and I freeze. My father walks in behind my mother.

  “Hi,” I say. All the levity that had been in the room evaporates, and Mandy, Tlali, and Izel all suddenly look at their purses, the floor, or their shoes. Anywhere except at my parents or me.

  “Um, we’ll get going,” Izel says. “Come on, guys.” She gestures for Tlali and Mandy to follow her. They both act like mutes, which is the first time Mandy has been at a loss for words. “Mr. and Mrs. Almonte, it’s really nice to meet you.” Izel is the only one with a functioning brain now, apparently. They all trickle out of the room, herded out by Izel, who closes the door.

  I face my parents and attempt a smile, but I know it’s awkward. My mom brings her hand to her mouth to hide her gasp. Her hair is mussed, something I’ve never seen before, and her designer outfit is rumpled. They came straight from the airport, then. Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed. She grasps my Dad’s arm for support like she can’t stay upright if she lets go.

  On the other hand, Dad breaks away from her hold and steps forward toward the side of my bed. His gaze sweeps my body from feet to face, and he falls to his knees.

  “Dad?” I’m momentarily concerned he has fallen, but he takes my hand in his.

  “Honey. We were so worried.”

  I don’t remember the last hug from my Dad, or the last gesture of kindness between us, so my hand in his is awkward—at least for me. For him, it looks like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  His harsh, black eyebrows are drawn in with concern, and I notice the stubble starting to shade
the lower part of his face for the first time. He never goes unshaven. Or out of his suit and tie, for that matter. He wears a polo shirt and jeans that don’t look out of place here but would have him stick out like a sore thumb any other day back home.

  He lets out a sob, and I don’t know what to do. I look at mom for help, but as usual, she is useless. She takes a seat and clutches her chest like she can’t breathe, as if she were the sick one and not me. I knew this would happen.

  “Dad, it’ll be okay.”

  He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and kisses the top of my hand. I blink at him, unsure what to say. He stands then and grabs a chair to sit next to me.

  “Valentina Almonte, how dare you keep this from your mother and me?” I can tell he is aiming for scorning, but his voice cracks, giving him away.

  “I’m sorry. I would have told you if the treatment failed. I swear.”

  “And you would have robbed us of time together,” he says.

  “Virgensita,” Mom says and looks to the ceiling. She makes a cross over her chest and starts muttering prayers toward the sky.

  This is it. The dreaded moment. The moment of truth. I am sick, but I am still me, and my illness hasn’t erased all the harm done to our relationship before now.

  “You’ve never cared about time together before now, Dad.” I don’t mean to sound as harsh as I do, but I know that’s how it’s received because Dad winces. He knows it’s the truth.

  “I’m sorry, Mija. I’ve let work consume me, and I’ve overlooked so much. I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Tell me what I can do to make it up.”

  “Why don’t you start by taking Mom to your hotel so she can freshen up and let her have her feelings there. We can talk tomorrow when you’re both rested and more calm.”

  We both look at Mom, who is rocking back and forth in her chair with a rosary dangling from her clasped hands, tears dripping from her chin.

  Dad shakes his head. “No. We want to see your doctor. I want to know everything. All Pilar said is that you have c-c-cancer. That you’ve had it for God knows how long, and she didn’t know how bad it was.”

  “Look, I’m getting treated now. I got myself in a very aggressive clinical trial. You can relax and know I’m being taken care of. As for the doctor, you’ll want to talk to Dr. Ramirez or Dr. Medina. They’re the team leading the trial and most familiar with my case, but Dad, it’s late. They’ve gone home, and they’ll be here in the morning.”