Work Me Up

I force myself to smile in response. At the same time, I can’t help replaying our last argument with this new knowledge in my mind.

Oh, god. The pictures all around her house. Of Selena and another guy, with her arms wrapped around him. My stomach churns, the feeling turning sour now. I accused her of hiding a boyfriend or something from me, when all this time, that has to have been her brother. Her brother, who died in a car accident that traumatized her for years.

Fuck. I have to go find her. I have to explain everything, apologize for what I said.

Mrs. Brown tilts her head, peering at me with a new frown this time. “Are you all right, Antonio?” she asks. Then she glances behind me at the car again, as if remembering where we are, and how I just randomly showed up in their driveway. “Did you need something? If you want to talk to Mark, he’ll be finishing up in a couple of hours at the office. You’re welcome to come with me to meet him, though—”

“No, nothing like that,” I blurt, then wince at how I just interrupted her. I clear my throat, wondering how much I should say. I don’t want to worry Selena’s mother any more than strictly necessary. After all, it was just one fight. The fact that Selena’s not in her apartment doesn’t mean anything. She could be out with a friend, or just walking somewhere. She could even be home and just ignoring me.

The more I think about it, the more likely that last option sounds.

“I just wanted to check in,” I hear myself saying. “And let you both know that we’ve finished up the job. And to mention how well Selena did, again.”

Mrs. Brown’s smile returns, wide again. “Well, thank you for stopping by. I’ll be sure to pass the message along to Mark. As I said, that’s a great relief for me to hear, and I’m sure he’ll feel the same way.” She shifts her bags once more. “We just want our daughter back to her old happy, healthy self. At least as much as that’s possible.”

“Of course. That’s all I want to,” I say, before I can think better of it.

Mrs. Brown’s eyebrows rise, just a hair, and I could kick myself for blurting that out. But the longer she stares at me, the more knowing Selena’s mother’s smile turns, until she’s practically smirking. “Oh,” she says slowly. “I see.”

“It’s… not…” I clamp my mouth shut, before I say anything even more incriminating.

But Mrs. Brown just laughs and waves me off. “Don’t worry. I understand perfectly. Now go on. And tell Selena we said hello, and congratulations on a job well done,” she calls after me, as I start to trudge back toward my car.

I offer a wave, and then climb back into Betty and turn the ignition on. Time to go find Selena. Whatever it takes.

11

Antonio

She’s not at the beach either, or the restaurant we walked to, or any of the cute little cafes within walking distance of her apartment building. And her phone continues going straight to voicemail, which means it’s not even turned on, so a text will be pointless.

Finally, lacking any other options, I park in her lot and take the stairs up to her apartment. If nothing else, she’ll have to come back here eventually, right?

Just in case she’s been inside and hiding with the lights off this whole time, I try knocking again. And again. And again. Finally, I lean back against the door and slump down until I’m sitting with my back against it. I let my head fall back against the wood with a hard thud.

“Look,” I say, loud enough that if she is inside, she’ll be able to hear me through the door. “I get why you don’t want to talk to me now. I wouldn’t want to either. I just… I didn’t know about your history. About the accident, or your brother. I should never have tried to pry, especially when you made it clear you didn’t want to talk about it.”

I shift and stare down at my fists balled in my lap. “I guess I just thought…” I shake my head. “It was pretty clear that you were hurting, and I thought if I knew why, then I could help. But I was a completely insensitive jerk about it. And I should never have accused you of hiding a boyfriend or anything from me, that was so stupid. I was being jealous and irrational.”

I let my head fall back with another hard thunk and shut my eyes, my throat feeling tight. What if I’ve screwed it up for good? What if she never wants to talk to me again?

Then I hear a faint sigh. “Yes, you were,” says a voice, but not from behind me. It’s coming from out here, in the hallway.