45. Burrito
Chapter forty-five
Burrito
Maria
“Do you think he’s going to be okay in there?” I ask after I take an overly large bite of my burrito.
“It’s not as if they’re stringing him up or beheading him. It’s just a conversation.”
I don’t know how Ed can stay calm throughout all this. All of this stress is making me crave carbs and salt (hence the burrito; I wouldn’t usually eat one of these for lunch).
“What if they give him worse than jail time? We haven’t accounted for that.” I thumb away a glob of cheese that’s running down my lip. I must look like a hungry fiend right now.
“Firstly, you’re eating too fast. Put the burrito down and finish chewing.” He reaches across the table and snatches the foil-wrapped burrito out of my hands. I have half a mind to steal it back.
“We’ll adapt, Maria. I know you’re concerned for Drake, but worrying isn’t going to help him or change anything. Whatever sentence they give him, we’ll deal with.”
I press a napkin to my mouth and finally manage to swallow the huge bite of food.
“How are you so calm? Aren’t you worried about him?”
Ed raises his gaze from the quesadilla he ordered, staring at me from beneath his brows.
“Oh, I’m scared shitless for him. But then I ask myself: what if he hadn’t gotten caught?
What if we hadn’t noticed the signs and he’d kept going?
Would he have overdosed in his car somewhere?
How many patients would he have killed from being high all the time?
The answers to those questions remind me that all of this could have ended up a lot worse. ”
I hadn’t thought about it that way, the what-ifs and could’ve-beens. I much prefer remaining in the present and focusing on what I can do in the here and now.
“I guess you’re right. Can I have my burrito back, please?”
“Only if you’re not going to shovel your feelings into your face again.” Edward gives me a look before handing it back. “I swear, I have no idea how you can eat like that and not look like a balloon.”
“Good genetics, high metabolism. Or maybe it’s because I take more walks than you do.”
“Have you seen how big a hospital is? I probably walk a couple of miles on any given day.”
“Yeah, and there’s a lot of stopping and talking and sitting. Meanwhile, I’m chasing your kid around in a game of tag, wrestling him into his clothes, and pushing him on the swings.”
Edward has a look of defeat on his face as he finishes the last of his meal. I almost feel sorry for him.
“Hey... you know that you can tell me if all of this feels too much, right? You don’t need to bend over backward just because I’m paying you. I’m willing to help out where I can.”
The sudden admission warms my face, and I reach across the table to hold his hand.
“I was just kidding around, Ed. I’m not insinuating you’re a bad father or taking advantage of me. I love my work, and I love taking care of your son. He’s more than a delight.”
Thankfully, Alexander has been distracted by plenty of other things going on around us while he pokes and prods at his food. All of this would be a lot for a child his age, but he seems to be taking it pretty well.
An hour later...
Edward got a call a few minutes ago, saying that the meeting was over.
He wasted no time getting everything sorted so that we could get back there as quickly as possible.
Every nerve in my body feels like it’s fiery hot and ice cold at the same time.
The burrito in my stomach is starting to flip around from all of the anticipation.
Stanley is already there waiting for us. For some reason, he looks like he’s been crying.
“What happened to you?” Edward asks in passing as we all head back into the building.
“Not important now, we’ll talk later,” Stan replies curtly, gesturing to the door. Drake is the only thing that should have our attention right now.
Though my curiosity is piqued, I decide to leave it alone.
We wait with bated breath outside, my hands squeezing Ed’s and Stan’s to the point that our palms are starting to get sweaty.
Why did they call if they said he was ready? What’s taking them so long?
After what feels like forever, the double doors finally open, and Drake emerges. He looks exhausted, defeated, and very much ready to throw the towel in. I’m the first to run up to him and throw my arms around his shoulders.
“I’m so proud of you,” I whisper into his ear before I hear what the verdict is. I don’t care what punishment they’re giving him. That’s not going to make me respect or love him any less.
Wait. Did I just...?
For a second, my heart stops in my chest. I take a step back to question my thoughts, surprised that I would say the word so easily.
The other three draw closer and ask him how everything went, but I don’t hear a single word of it. Static is buzzing in my ears, and my thoughts are somewhere else.
“Can you excuse me for a second? I have to go to the bathroom,” I offer with a polite smile and duck out of there so I have some silence to think. I pick the stall furthest from the door and lock it behind me with a slam.
When did I...? How long have I...?
The lack of any answers or completed thoughts increases my frustration, mostly at myself. I shouldn’t be letting this situation determine how clear my mind should be. I should be able to come to terms with it after everything that’s happened.
Chelsea’s words echo in the back of my head: would Ben want me to be alone for the rest of my life?
The easy answer would be no, that he would want the best for me.
But that’s an easy answer to come up with when he’s not here to argue his points.
It wouldn’t be fair to his memory to assume what he’d want for me.
Finding someone else, much less finding three someone else’s.
Does that mean I love all three of them?
I bury my face in my hands and lower the lid of the toilet to take a seat. The stress of the entire day has been weighing down on me since yesterday, and now is not the time to start considering these questions. Not when my mind is already exhausted. Not when Drake needs us the most.
I meditate for a few minutes to empty my mind before exiting the stall. I stare at my reflection for a while in the mirror while I wash my hands, wondering if the face looking back at me is the same one from a few months ago, before Ben passed away. Am I even the same person anymore?
“Maria...?” Stan’s voice echoes through the closed door of the women’s restroom.
“Yeah, sorry. My lunch might not have agreed with me.”
“Do you want to skip dinner then? We could just have something at home.”
Home? Which home? Mine? Ed’s? The complications of just a simple question are rousing my concerns once more.
“No, I should be fine. I’ll just get soup and some hot tea.” I dry my hands on a paper towel and throw open the bathroom door.
“We promised Drake and I’m not going to go back on it now. A little nausea won’t kill me.”
“If you’re sure.” He nods in the direction where the others are waiting for us. “Drake’s going to tell us everything over dinner.”
We’ve been sitting in a booth for the better part of twenty minutes in complete silence, save for Alexander’s curious questions. Ed’s been keeping him distracted for the most part. Drake sits on the inside of the booth with Stanley beside him so that he can’t escape.
A light seems to go off in everyone’s mind once our food arrives. Finally, something to distract us from the silence so that we can get down to business.
“Enjoy your meal!”
I mutter a thank you before I tear off a piece of bread and dip it into the cheddar and broccoli soup I ordered. A little on the salty side, but I’ll make do.
“First,” Drake croaks, then clears his throat. This is the first time he’s spoken in almost an hour.
“First, I want to thank you guys for even being here in the first place. You could have left me to deal with this by myself, but you didn’t. And for that, I’m grateful.” He takes a long draught from his root beer before continuing.
“They did revoke my license. I’ll have to wait three years before I can attempt to have it reinstated. I’ll have to go through additional training, some remediation, and continue going to therapy in the meantime.”
“And...?” Edward asks, his brows high on his forehead.
“No jail time.” Drake shakes his head, though he still can’t meet anyone’s gaze.
“Oh my God, that’s wonderful!” I almost knock my bowl off the table as I stand to hug him from across the table. He awkwardly gets up so that I can reach him.
“Is it?”
“Huh?”
“Is it wonderful?”
“Drake, don’t start.” Stan presses his fingers to his temple. I resume my seat, confused that he’s not happy about this.
“This was the best outcome we could have hoped for. And you’ve already started working independently, so you’re already set with some money saved up. And if you’re lucky, the new owners should be paying the last of the closing costs on your apartment.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just... You weren’t in there, getting dressed down like I’d personally stabbed their loved ones in the chest. I know it’s my fault, but it stripped me down to my bones and left me feeling empty. It’s hard to come back from that.”
“It is. But you’re not going to do it alone, remember? We’re going to be with you every step of the way.”
“Thanks, Maria.” Drake puts on a brave smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
I really hope things start picking up soon. I hate seeing him like this.