A large family filled the room. While the adults paced, the kids fought over the channel on the television. A talk-show host chatted with her guest. The picture flicked to a reporter clutching a microphone, and finally, a cartoon. The kids plopped to the floor, content.
That would be us tomorrow—sisters, nieces, and nephews everywhere. Noise and family, the way it was meant to be. It didn’t feel right to be alone in a hospital.
I took the chair in the far corner. It wasn’t clear if Mamá would need in-home care when the hospital released her, and I had no idea what her insurance would cover. I stared down at my hands. Cupped together in my lap, they held no answers.
Several minutes later, the man came into the lounge. The only open seat was next to me. He sank into it with a groan and put his hand over his eyes.
His spiced aftershave was a pleasant change from the astringent odor of the hospital. The scent touched the back of my tongue as I inhaled. His long, lean thigh rested against mine. I could feel the heat of his body through my skirt.
He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. I glanced sideways at him, catching a glimpse of his thick eyelashes. He was praying. As soon as I realized that, I felt guilty for the tingles between my legs. Following his example, I thought of Mamá and thanked God that her stay in the ICU would be short.
“Just a precaution,” the nurse assured me. I repeated her words, like prayers, and believed.
My thoughts returned to the man beside me. Where was his family? Quick glances down at his hands spied no ring.
“Twenty more minutes.”
His voice startled me. I glanced up at him. He nodded toward the door. “The nurses will let us back in soon.”
“Oh. Yes.”
The coffee in the pot next to the television looked as thick as syrup, but I needed something to do with my hands, so I poured a cup and brought it back to my seat.
He must have seen me wince. “Bad?”
I scraped my tongue with my teeth to get rid of the burned flavor as I dropped the full cup into the trash can. “There isn’t enough cream and sugar in the entire world to make that motor oil taste like coffee.”
I wasn’t that funny, but lines crinkled around his smoky topaz eyes as he chuckled. The dimple in his cheek was a test of my waning self-control.
He towered over me when he stood. “I’m going down to the cafeteria. Hopefully the coffee is better there. Can I bring you back something?”
How incredibly sweet he was.
“No. I’ll go, too. Maybe I’ll find something I like if I go down.” I didn’t mean it as suggestive as it sounded, and I most certainly didn’t plan to get caught eyeing his bulge. When I glanced up at him, his eyebrow raised a bit.
“Go down. To the cafeteria,” I blurted. Madre de Dios, the words that came out of my mouth.
He followed me to the elevator. I tried to walk like a nun.
His name was Luis. He worked in a bank, played soccer in a weekend league, and he showed me pictures of his sons.
“They live with their mother in San Diego. I have them at Christmas and for a month in the summer. It isn’t enough, but what can I do?”
I agreed that it was sad, but wasn’t sorry to find out he was a free man.
Even though he didn’t have to, he paid for my coffee. We sat on opposite sides of a wobbly table in the cafeteria and talked about Mamá and his abuela, because the hospital was what we had in common.
Luis’s voice was a nice, rumbly baritone. When he talked of his abuela, his eyes were so sad and soft that I reached over the table to touch his hands. His squeezed back and didn’t let go.
“I don’t think she’s ever coming home,” he admitted.
“Are your parents here in LA?”
“Abuela raised me. She’s all I have.”
I couldn’t imagine growing up without sisters, brothers, or cousins. How horrible to be alone.
When it was my turn to talk about Mamá, his thumbs stroked the back of my hands. I imagined him stroking my hair as it fanned across the pillow on my bed. I bet he took his time with a lover, caressing her until she begged him to move his hands lower. Under my clothes, my skin ached for warm, feathery touches.