Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ella
“In the depths of my heartache, I watched the iconic film starring Renée Zellweger many times only to discover there is a book that’s JUST AS GOOD. Bridget Jones’s Diary was written for the brokenhearted. To all the lovesick people out there, stay strong with no contact ?.”
—Joey’s Staff Pick
Henry Martin has slept in my bed every night for a week.
In Sudden Death, Rita Mae Brown said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” So this time, Henry made sure to always have a change of clothes so booksellers couldn’t accuse us of another one-night stand.
Still, we’d be foolish to think they wouldn’t catch on soon.
Henry was not the tamest sleeper. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of night and chug the water he now left each night on my nightstand.
Or he’d toss and turn, flipping his pillow, pulling me closer until he was comfortable.
Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night, flip me on my back, and start pressing kisses down my neck.
Once, I told him I wanted to, but I was so tired. He pulled me on top of him, carefully sliding into me, and said, “You’re just gonna stay put, honey, and feel good. I’ll take care of everything.”
It was never enough.
There was a reason I lived alone: I liked having my personal space and alone time.
But I didn’t want any of that with Henry.
I loved coming home and seeing his shoes next to mine at the door or his book on my nightstand.
Nothing was close enough for me. Even at night, we’d be skin to skin, but I still wanted more.
It seemed like we had an unspoken agreement to not acknowledge what was going on or examine it too closely.
Neither of us ventured into the question of what we were to each other and what’d happen after the dust settled.
But he kissed me slowly the minute we were alone in the apartment, sometimes too impatient when I tried to open the door. He’d make Southern comfort food in my kitchen, just to give me a taste of his home. A label wasn’t necessarily important, but I wanted to call him mine.
We had walked into work together this morning, coffees in hand from a little cart on my corner.
In the mornings, we were the only ones in the store, but it was too risky to try anything.
Especially in Leo’s office. Besides, you know, the obvious reason of it being totally icky, but this was the place we came to focus.
Here, we were colleagues and nothing more.
It was harder than it seemed because Henry looked so professional behind that desk. He was wearing his “focus” face right now, poring through our recent sales reports. I’d often get sidetracked by the swell of his bicep or the column of his neck.
“So?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the ultimate distraction in front of me. “What’s the verdict?”
“It’s good,” he said, still studying the papers. “Better.”
“Good enough for—”
He shook his head. “No, not enough to call off the fair or for it to not matter. But enough that we can take our foot off the gas a little.”
“How much?”
“If you’re going forty—”
“I’m a New Yorker, I don’t drive.”
He rolled his eyes. “Plenty of New Yorkers drive.”
“You should be glad I’m not on the road,” I said. “My dad tried to teach me in our neighborhood when I turned sixteen and I hit three mailboxes.”
He stared at me in disbelief. “How on Earth did you manage to do that?”
“Pure grit and determination. And, well, I didn’t adjust my mirrors.”
“Anyway,” Henry said. “It’s not enough to lose focus. It’s helpful for sure, but we’re not just trying to pay our debt here. We need a cushion for the future, too.”
“Heard, okay,” I said, flipping through my binder of notes. “There’s only a few more things to take care of in the upcoming weeks. We’ve got the drag queen auditions this Saturday and the rest of the decorations are on schedule to arrive by the end of the week.”
Henry nodded. “Perfect. We’re meeting here for the auditions, right? Or …”
I winced at the unspoken question. Henry was concerned he was encroaching on my personal space, but truthfully it wasn’t possible for me to get tired of him.
Regrettably, I said, “I actually can’t do a sleepover this weekend. My parents are going upstate to visit my tíos. I told them I’d babysit my siblings.”
“No worries,” Henry said. “I just wanted to make sure—”
“Of course if that weren’t happening, I’d want you to—”
“I just didn’t want to assume anything,” Henry said quickly.
“Assume,” I said quietly. “With me, you can assume.”
My parents forgot to tell me the extremely important detail that Carlito had a cold the past few days that hadn’t gotten any better. Which resulted in Maya and Jorge getting it, too.
“Ella,” Maya moaned loudly from her room. “I need more water.”
“Coming,” I yelled back. All three of them were a lot when they were sick. I’d spent the better part of my Saturday morning running from each room, catering to their every need.
I tried to corral them all in the living room, but everyone wanted their own bed.
I had spent the morning cooking aguadito, a type of chicken soup, and muna tea for the three kids.
I had to run to my bodega to get more Vicks VapoRub.
This was the Peruvian cure-all. The small blue bottle was used to treat every little nuisance.
My mom swore by it when I was little, rubbing it on our backs, chests, and feet.
Well, it wasn’t doing much right now since all of them were still calling me every few seconds.
After I brought Maya some more water, I heard a little voice call out my name.
“Carmelita,” Carlito said, his voice so small and weak. I pushed open his bedroom door where he was lying in bed on his side, cuddling one of his stuffed animals. I sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing back his hair.
“How’re you feeling, hermanito? The tea helped, right? Feeling good and strong?”
He shook his head, his bottom lip wobbling. “I want Mamí.”
“Oh, I know, she’s much better at this than me, huh?” When he nodded, I gasped, all overdramatic. “Am I not giving you five-star service?”
“Mamí gives ten stars,” he said quietly.
“She’ll be back Monday, but you’re stuck with me for now, kid.” I smoothed down his hair, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “You’ll feel better in no time.”
“Thank you for taking care of us,” he whispered. “Even if Mamí’s better.”
I laughed. “Anytime. I like taking care of you, you know?”
“Who takes care of you?” he asked with a yawn.
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re sick in your city apartment, who takes care of you?”
“Oh,” I said softly. “I don’t know. No one does.”
“That’s sad,” he huffed.
“I’m just fine. I’m so good at taking care of you that it’s a breeze when I have to do it for myself.”
He smiled at that, snuggling into his stuffed animal a little more. He looked up at me with his big brownie eyes, batting his eyelashes. “Can I have arroz con leche?”
“That won’t work on me—” I stopped mid-sentence. It took a long time to make the dish and I hated doing it, but when he stuck out his bottom lip, I couldn’t help it. “Fine. After you finish your soup.”
After I checked on Jorge, who was still asleep and snoring, I threw myself down on the couch. Carlito wouldn’t be done with his soup for a little while, so I had some time to rest before I needed to make his arroz con leche.
And right when I closed my eyes, I sat straight up and bolted to the bathroom, puking into the toilet.
Henry: Here. Everything’s all lined up in the event space, what’s your ETA?
Henry: Ella, you on your way?
Henry: Honey, I hope I don’t sound too southern when I say this, but I don’t think it’s in anyone’s best interest to piss off a room of drag queens.
Henry: They just told me I have birthing hips. Please hurry.
Henry: Call me.
After I finished puking my guts out in the bathroom, I passed out on the couch. My forehead was sweaty and I could barely keep my eyes open. I don’t know how long I slept, but I shot up at the realization that my siblings might need me.
When I woke up, I checked my phone to see if Maya or Jorge called while I was sleeping but instead saw a bunch of texts from Henry. My eyes widened at the time. I needed to be at the drag auditions an hour ago.
“Fuck,” I muttered, dialing Henry’s phone number. The dial tone rang and rang to no avail. Anxiety seeped through me. I was trying to give Henry reasons to stay, and leaving him for dead, abandoning him like all his worst nightmares, was certainly not the way.
Ella: im so sorry i just saw all of this the kids are sick and i caught it. lemme see if julie can come babysit and ill be there in thirty minutes
I moved as fast as I could to my old bedroom upstairs. My skin was burning and I wanted nothing more than to just lie down, but I couldn’t leave him high and dry.
I pulled a random pair of pants and a shirt out of my old dresser, shucking them on. I was calling Julie all the while, but she wasn’t answering. I groaned in frustration. I’d just have to ask the neighbors to look after them.
I whipped the front door open and there stood Henry, a taxi driving away behind him.
“Henry,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there. The kids are all sick and—”
He frowned, holding the back of his hand up to my forehead. “It’s worse than he said.”
My brows wrinkled in confusion. “Than who said?”
“C’mon, back to bed, honey,” he said, ushering us into the house.
“Henry, how’d you even know where my parents live? What’re you doing here?” I blinked at him, a little dazed. “Did you take a taxi?”
“It was faster. I wanted to get to you.”
“Henry, you didn’t have to do that.”
He didn’t say anything as he guided me up the stairs. He stood at the top of our stairs, looking at each door and said, “Which one?”
“Second one on the left,” Jorge called.