NICO
I’m crazy about her. Not only is she sweet and sexy as hell, but I love that she’s so fiercely independent. Even though I want them to move in with me and stay forever, I have tremendous respect for her desire to keep the home she established for herself and Mateo after leaving her husband.
As I roll the riding mower out of the garage and check to make sure it has gas, Mrs. Alvarez from across the street comes over, carrying a tote bag.
I stop what I’m doing to say hello to her.
“We heard about Milo, and we’re simply heartbroken for him and all of you.”
“Thank you.”
“How is he?”
“The latest report was that he’s awake and alert and doing as well as can be expected. We won’t know anything for certain for a few days. They said we can see him later today.”
“Thank God he’s still with us.”
“Yes, for sure.” Contemplating the alternative still has the power to reduce me to tears.
“I made a casserole and some brownies for you.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you so much.”
“Will you please give Milo our love?” she asks tearfully. “Everyone in the neighborhood thinks the world of him.”
“I’ll do that.”
Before she can walk away, Mrs. Sanchez from two doors down arrives with another casserole and the apple pie that Milo supposedly loves. She has the same message for my brother and is on the verge of tears as she lets me know her entire church is praying for him.
I thank them profusely before carrying the food inside to put in the fridge. When I come back out, I move quickly to start the mower and head for the Millers’ home three doors down so I can get the job done and grab a nap before work. I can’t drive people without sleep.
I’m about halfway through the cutting of the Millers’ front yard when they pull into the driveway in their new Buick. Mrs. Miller helps her husband from the car and then waves me down.
I cut the power to the mower.
“You don’t have to do that!” she says.
“Milo would want me to.”
“But you should be with him, Nico,” Mr. Miller says as he leans on a walker. “Not here cutting our grass.”
“We can’t see him until later, so it was something to keep me busy.”
“If you’re sure that it’s no problem.”
“I’m sure.”
“How is he?”
I give them the latest info, feeling like I’m on autopilot as I say the same words for the third or fourth time now.
“Please tell him we love him, and we’re praying for him.”
“I will.”
“Thank you, Nico. Your parents raised good men.”
They raised one good man and one who could use some improvement. “That’s nice of you to say.”