Hi! Have a chapter with no actual ending!

Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez

May 9th 1952

He swept Carmen's hair out of her face.

"It's okay," he tried to be soothing but having never given birth he didn't know exactly what 'soothing' was or could potentially be. He was pretty useless at the moment. It didn't feel too good.

Her eyes were starting to close because of the sleeping medication and her grip on his hand relaxed. Her eyes were hazy and distant.

"Stay, okay?" Carmen asked.

"Of course," he said. Sammy held his breath as she went under. He was pretty sure that everyone in Texas could hear his heartbeat. It was deranged at the moment, so maybe that wasn't a good thing.

"Sir, you can go home now," the nurse said dragging him out of the room. "We'll call you when you're a father."

"Wait- what?" Sammy asked. "No, whoa, can't I stay?"

"Are you having a baby too?" The nurse asked unimpressed.

"Ma'am, if you think that that's physically possible than I'm not sure I feel comfortable with your being a nurse." Sammy said.

He got the dirtiest look and didn't get a second to resist as he was kicked out.

Now he was in the workshop, a bundle of nerves and frustration, ranting to Rodrigue and Steve.

"They just kicked me out and God damn it," Sammy said going on and on some more.

"Oh boy," Rodrigue said. "Steve, you stay here and man the shop. Try not to hook up with my sister while I fix this guy up."

And so then Sammy was standing back from the administration desk as Rodrigue talked. He beckoned Sammy over. He nearly tripped over his feet to oblige.

Rodrigue put his hands on Sammy's shoulders.

"Sammy, you can stay." Rodrigue said sounding very serious and serene. "It's okay. I told them about the disease."

"The what?" Sammy said.

He put a hand on Sammy's shoulder.

"I told them that in your seventh months left to live, all you wanted was to be with your wife and child." Rodrigue said seriously.

"Why did you tell them that?" Sammy said dropping out of character.

"Because it's not good to keep all this hurt to yourself," Rodrigue said pounding his spare hand on Sammy's chest.

"I appreciate man," Sammy said. "Sometimes, you and Carmen are all that keeps me going. All that keeps me being honest with myself."

The nurse acting as secretary looked at them all sadly.

"You can just have a seat, sir." She said. "And if there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"Thank you ma'am," Sammy said.

He and Rodrigue walked over to the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"Thanks Rodrigue," Sammy said quietly. "Good one."

Rodrigue shook his head. "It's nothing, my friend. I would do anything to make your last days on earth comfortable."

Dear Anza,

This is a story that I don't think your grandmother ever told you because God forbid anything that may make Sammy look decent, and I don't think that you were at Siggy's on the day that Rodrigue staged the reenactment. But it is a real story.

Moral of it. There is a way to fool the system. But don't tell them that I told you, because the system is scary.

Not a moral but an observation: I think that's the most nervous I've ever been in my life- just standing there and wondering what in the world was going on while I was in a waiting room with the nurse who thought I had a week or five minutes to live and -wait for it- Rodrigue as my only comfort. I love Rodrigue like a brother, I really do. But if that's the new look of comfort, we're all screwed. I guess I've seen how much damage a torn-apart family or a family gone wrong could tear apart people on its way, and I was kind of scared of making some faux-pas and triggering that chain reaction. Actually, I don't even know Anza, but it's a scary thought that a tiny human being will one day be dependent on you. And that 'one day' is, like, right now on that very moment.

Sammy