Mona didn’t look up at the sound of the bell. A long line waited at the counter. She hustled to make orders and ring up sales. Guilt hit me. I never called her to explain my absence. I turned to Beatriz to tell her I wanted to leave.
She’d anticipated it, but didn’t look at me with pity. Determination in her eyes she held out her hand. In it, she offered a hair tie. I stared at it a moment and then slowly reached for it.
Mona murmured a quiet cry of joy when I stepped behind the counter with her. Customers watched me expectantly. I turned away, not ready to take orders. I could fill them while I bled inside. The handle of the coffee pot welcomed my hand. Feeling brittle and thin, I struggled to slip into our routine. Customers smiled and thanked me as I handed them drinks, but I couldn’t manage a return smile. The simple monotony kept my hands busy, but I struggled to focus. The noise and the bustle wore on me.
I wasn’t sure how long I bumbled behind the counter before Beatriz tugged me to the backroom and sat me down with a sandwich she pulled from a plastic baggy. It looked like something Gran made. My hand trembled as I ate it numb inside and out.
Beatriz left me alone in the backroom for twenty minutes, just enough time for me to finish a soda and the shakes to fade. Then she put me back to work. This time, I slid into the routine with more ease.
Beatriz flipped the sign on the door at exactly one. We cleaned in silence. Mona tried giving me tip money, but I saw the pathetic amount in the jar. I shook my head. She didn’t push me.
Back in the car shivering as the chill of the leather seats seeped into the backs of my legs, I looked out the windshield. “I know what you’re doing,” I said quietly as she started the engine.
“Good for you,” she said sarcastically. It lacked any malice.
“Pulling me back into my old life won’t change anything,” I pointed out. She had to know. The sooner she accepted it, the faster she could move on.
“You’re right. It won’t. If he’s still alive, he’ll be back soon. If he’s not, you’ll die in a few weeks. I just don’t see how staying in your room is a better option for anyone. Your life isn’t just about you, Tessa. It’s about the people who love you too.”
Ouch.
“I know you’re dying. Not just in a few weeks, but inside… right now. I can’t make that go away.”
We both sat in the idling car outside the Coffee Shop, staring straight ahead.
“But maybe I can help it fade. Just a little bit every day,” she said, turning to look at me. “If I only have you for a few more weeks, please let me try.” Tears thickened her voice.
A few of my own spilled over my lower lashes. I nodded stiffly. I would pull myself up. Live again for as long as I had. Morik wasn’t the only one who loved me. I needed to remember that.
During the following week, Beatriz stuck to my side. She continued to use her mother’s car to take me to and from school. She sat with me at lunch and met me in the hall after each class. She didn’t try to keep a cheery disposition or lighten my mood. In fact, she adopted a snarky attitude that kept most people at bay.
Slowly, I caught up on homework. Sitting at the kitchen table ignoring the snack Gran placed between us, I listened to Beatriz’s repeated sighs.
“What?” I finally asked setting down my pencil.
“Nothing,” she grumbled while scratching another answer on her paper. She found math easy, so I knew the work wasn’t the source of her sighing. I continued to wait and she gave in. “Ted didn’t last more than the dance. I’d really hoped he’d be…” she sighed and shook her head, “something special.”
I hadn’t thought much of Ted to begin with. Sure, he would have been nice, but a little too boring for Beatriz.
“So find someone better,” I said not wanting to talk about Ted or any other boy. I picked up my pencil, but she wasn’t done with the conversation yet.
“That’s just it. How do I know if the next one will really be any better? I need a way to see into them. Who they really are. Who they will be.” She eyed me expectantly.
I wilted into my chair. “Mom told you.” How much more had my mother told Beatriz? Since Beatriz stayed until just before the chant, I never got a chance to ask.
“Please, Tessa,” she begged.
“Who they are for me might not be who they are for you.”
“A wife beater is a wife beater. You can give me the basics,” she insisted.
I wrinkled my nose and rolled my eyes. She clapped knowing she’d won.