Chapter Sixteen
Ricky
I WAS SUCH an asshole. For the past two days, I had done nothing but think about that night with Aveline. I grabbed a wrench, tightening the lug nut before shifting back on my knees. The bike was finished but my mind was a jumbled mess. First of all, why had I asked her out? Scraping money together for a couple of drinks was tough. I told myself it would be worth it to get closer to her parents.
Second, how could I have walked out of Manny’s like that? She called me beautiful inside and out. No one had ever spoken like that about me. When had a girl ever been so open, so vulnerable? And I freaked out and left her alone.
In a bar.
Where I was fairly certain she couldn’t communicate, seeing as she didn’t speak Spanish.
Oh, and on Valentine’s Day.
Mother. Fucker.
I fell back against the concrete wall, hanging my head between my knees. The problem was clear. I liked Aveline. She was sweet, funny in a slightly awkward way, and pretty. Delicate and fragile, she reminded me of a butterfly. My body size and general lack of manners felt wrong next to her, yet the pull was there. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I wanted to hear that whisper of a voice. I wanted… God help me… I wanted to touch her. Definitely more than a graze of my hand against hers.
But it was hearing that she wanted me that broke me. Because it was one thing to risk my heart. To go after her parents, to give all I had to help my family, but it was quite another to risk her feelings along the way.
A monster lurked inside me, urging me to do just that, hurt her because why should I care? She hurt my family, too. But the man I wanted to be couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t hurt Aveline. I needed money, but that didn’t mean she had to be destroyed along the way. Devoting all my energy to helping my father, my entire family, was the priority. Worrying over her heart was too damn much.
As badly as it felt to know I had hurt her, in the long run, I was doing the right thing. Squashing any hope Aveline had for romance between us was the best gift I could give her. Keeping her away from me was the ultimate protection.
“Ricky, got something to show you.” Ed walked out of his office and into the garage bay where I worked.
“Hey, Ed. What’s happening?” I stood up, wiping my greasy hands on a rag I kept in my back pocket.
Ed crossed his arms over his beefy chest. “Take a look,” he gestured with his chin to the window that flanked the entry garage door.
My stomach turned, senses piqued that this would not be good news. I walked out the side door and around the corner, facing the front of the shop.
The sign said, For Sale by Owner
Dread hit me like a wall. I needed this job more than I needed anything else right now.
“Had to do it. I’m sorry man. I’m closing up shop and moving south. I need a fresh start.” Ed spoke through clenched teeth. It was clear he was pained by his decision.
I swallowed past the boulder in my throat. “How long?”
Ed scrubbed his hands down his face. “I can keep you on through March. If the shop hasn’t sold by then, I’m locking up and taking off. Told my buddy I’d be in the Florida Keys with him by spring break. We’re thinking about chartering a boat and taking people on fishing trips.
I tuned him out. I was happy for Ed and his new start. Really, I was. But this was not a “for fun” job. This was a keep the roof over our head and lights on job. I’d have to start looking for something else right away.
We walked back into the shop and I returned to the bike I was working on. All the while wondering what the hell I was going to do if my plan failed.
* * *
“MAMA?” MARCELA ASKED, jostling Mama’s knee. “Wake up.”
Mama woke with a start, her body stretched out on the sofa. “What? Is he okay?” She rubbed her eyes, acclimating to the light in the room.
“We were afraid to move Papa to bed.” I sat next to my mother, elbows on my knees. “Listen.” The room became silent as we focused on his rapid breathing and the sounds coming from his lungs that did not sound normal.
“I think it might be respiratory distress,” Marcela said, watching Dad’s sleeping frame, her shoulders rigid and face pinched. “I called an ambulance. He needs to see a doctor tonight, Mama.”
Mama stood. “I’ll go wash up,” she said, her voice shaky.
“I’ll ride with him to the hospital,” I announced, standing as well.
Teresa stood by Papa, a father who had never spoken to her, that she’d never known before his accident, a helpless look on her face as she watched him struggle to breathe.
Mama shook her head. “He is my husband. I will go. Ricardo, you have class and work. I’ll need you to work because I will have to miss a day’s wage tomorrow. Marcela, why don’t you come with us? Last time you were the only one who understood half of the medical jargon those doctors were throwing at us.”
The reminder of the end of my job made my heart race in my chest. Screaming sirens sounded closer and closer. “I’ll meet them downstairs.” I took off, jogging down the stairway to make better time than waiting for the old ass elevator.
After Papa’s accident, he spent months in the hospital. Hope faded quickly that he would regain any lost functions or be able to speak. The damage to his spinal cord and neck were too severe. Mama wept the day she realized her husband would rely on a ventilator to breathe every day for the rest of his life.
Nights like these, when the women I loved were overcome with panic, fatigue, and stress were when my plan threatened to spill over and ruin my life. I wanted to hunt Aveline’s parents down and drag them here, forcing them to listen to Papa’s lungs rattle, his desperate breaths, and wide-eyed distress.
But what did I do? I bolted when the cause of this anguish told me she liked me. Acting like a damn grade schooler, I ran. Instead of remaining focused, putting emotions and guilt aside, and using her contact to gain access to her parents, I fled the scene.
Christ, I needed Aveline’s parents more now than ever and I’d completely blown it with her. I had to figure out my way back in.
I met the paramedics outside as they were opening the back door for the ambulance. “I’ll show you the way. Spinal cord injury, complete C1 quadriplegic. Abnormal and rapid breathing, most likely respiratory distress. He’s had pneumonia before, looks like that might be happening again.” The paramedics gathered information and we moved the stretcher into the elevator.
Yes, we had dealt with my father’s health complications many times before. While we never got used to the fear or uncertainty, we knew what to brace for.
How long the rest of his life would be, we had no idea. Doctors told us that once he lived his first full year on a ventilator, with proper care and therapy he could live another twenty years. Possibly more.
And we were approaching nineteen years. With no therapy besides what we did at home with him. Without private insurance, we relied on Medicaid to help care for my father. But there were co-payments, procedures that were deemed “optional” and not covered, resulting in endless medical bills to pay.
My ears rang, and my vision blurred.
Papa’s health always came first but looming over all of us was the mountain of debt that kept growing day by day. I couldn’t let my emotions bubble over. I screamed inside, boiling over until I was ready to lash out and physically hurt something. Or someone. I had to do something, to act. Hearts aside, feelings aside, my father was my only priority.