“Oh. Dad, then?” I didn’t think Dad would bring Sara something so decadent and fancy. If anything, he would bring her favorite Mexican candy:Mazapánes.
She shook her head. “No. Dr. Medina stopped by to check on me. You just missed him.” She pointed with her chin to my dresser, where a vase contained a spectacular arrangement of yellow tulips, alien-like purple plants, and tiny little baby pineapples that could fit on the palm of my hand. Next to it sat an enormous card, flipped open to reveal signatures and well-wishes from nearly everyone on the oncology floor.
“Dr. Medina?” It made more sense to me that one of Sara’s nurse friends would have dropped off a collective card and flowers. Though the signature chocolates and the extravagance of the selected flowers—thathad ‘Hector’ written all over it.
“Yep,” she said as she shoved another chocolate in her mouth.
“What did he say?”
“Oh, he asked how I was doing. If I was in any pain. And since your dad was at work, he offered to help if I needed to get up or go anywhere.”
“Wow,” was all I could say.
Sara eyed me with a glint in her eye. “Yeah,” she said. “Wow.”
There was something so incredibly sweet about him checking in on my friend and trying to cheer her up. He remembered when she had stolen my chocolate. He was observant even about my friends and always thoughtful about what he did.
I snapped out of it. “Well, that was nice of him,” I clipped, and changed the subject. “Have you moved from the bed at all, missy?”
“I got up to open the door when he showed up.” She shot me a toothy grin half-smeared with chocolate.
I laughed. “That doesn’t count,” I said.
Sara was wallowing, but two days of it was more than enough. I told her to go for a walk. She needed to get moving and get under the sun a bit. In the meantime, I could get some work done around the house for Dad.
I was mowing Dad’s front yard when the familiar black pickup truck pulled into the driveway next door.
I took my earbuds out and stopped the music on my phone so I could say hi to Ramiro. I hadn’t seen him since he’d left Dad’s after seeing Sara a few days ago. My lips tightened when I heard him slam the door to his truck. He sped to his front door, but not fast enough for me to miss the slight glint of red rolling down one side of his face.
“Ramiro?” I said as I started walking toward him.
“Not now, Caro.”
“What did you do?”
“Not now, Caro!” He slammed the front door of his house—like that would stop me.
He groaned when the door creaked open. He was lying on the couch when I walked in. I got close enough to him to see the line of blood starting at his forehead and dripping down to his jaw. It had started to congeal, and some of it was smudged, probably from his attempts to clean it up on the drive back home.
I ran to Dad’s to pick up a clean towel and my first aid kit, then went back to Ramiro’s house. He didn’t protest the second time I entered. I wet the towel and set the supplies on the floor next to the couch where he was still lying, looking at the ceiling.
He didn’t wince when I cleaned up the blood. His eyebrow was busted, but he wouldn’t need stitches.
“You found him.” I wasn’t asking.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
It was no coincidence that on learning Sara’s boyfriend’s name, he’d disappeared for a day and came back home with blood on his face.
“But you should see the other guy,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking upward.
“Thank you,” I said. I knew he had executed the task I had so wanted to do myself. He wanted to give me plausible deniability in case the little shit pressed charges against him, so I didn’t ask him any more questions. I knew he would always protect me—us: Sara and me.
Neither of us told Sara what Ramiro did, but I knew we both had the satisfaction of knowing that justice had been served, whatever happened next.