Chapter 10: Today For You
Digging through the pockets of his worn-down jacket, Angel managed to scrape up just enough money for a subway ride and a phone call. He was not looking forward to staying at a shelter, but he did have an alternative: Mami.
Angel's mother was staying with a close friend of hers in the Bronx, Ceci Casablanca. Angel knew Ceci very well, and his family had always been close with hers. Angel was good friends with Ceci's daughter, Carlotta.
He dug vigorously through his pockets to find the letter his mother had written him a few months ago. She had left Ceci's number on the bottom of the paper. He finally found the paper, wrinkled and creased from being folded and unfolded so many times. Unfolding it one more time, his eyes dropped to the bottom of the paper, and found Ceci's number, written in thin, loopy handwriting.
He shoved a quarter quickly into the pay phone and briskly dialed the number, waiting impatiently as the phone rang into his ear.
"Hello," a young girl's voice answered quickly on the other line.
"Is Lourdes Schunard there?" asked Angel hopefully.
"Angel! Oh my God! It's Carlotta. How are you?" she screeched into the phone. Wincing from the loudness, he smiled and answered her.
"Uh, I'm alright. How are you?"
"Okay, I guess. Wow, I haven't talked to you in SO long. I miss you!" she exclaimed without pausing to take a breath.
"I miss you too. I'll come and visit soon though. Mami said she was living in your house now, is she there?" the dead silence on the other end alarmed Angel. Carlotta was never this quiet. "Well?" he asked again.
"Oh my God, you don't know," she said, more to herself than to him. Continuing, "Honey, um, last week, your Papi came here. He was drunk and," she paused uncharacteristically to take a breath, "he found her. He beat her real bad, and we think he might have raped her, but she's refusing to tell us anything."
Angel's mouth hung open in shock.
"I'm so sorry," Carlotta continued.
"Is she okay?" Angel asked frantically.
"Well, she isn't doing so great. She's in a lot of pain, and she's internally bleeding. The doctors stopped it a few days ago, but she was coughing yesterday, and I guess the bleeding started up again. Things don't look good, Ang."
"Can I see her?" he questioned, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, of course. Take the subway down here. You remember where my house is, right?"
"Yeah."
"The hospital's about 2 blocks up, right next to Lola's Fried Chicken."
"I think I remember now. I'll be there as soon as I can," he replied.
"Okay. Hurry, baby, I don't know how much time she has."
"Be there in a few," he told her, and hung up the phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With two suitcases and barely enough money to afford the subway ride, Angel was having difficulty. His bags weren't big, but together, they took up a lot of space and weighed a ton. The weight of the bags couldn't even compare to the giant weight on his chest. He had just lost Lenny, the love of his life, and now he was about to lose his mother. "I'm one lucky son- of-a-bitch," he mumbled to himself as the subway car jerked along. The ride to the Bronx wasn't terribly short, but it seemed like an eternity.
Finally, when it seemed like the car could go no longer, Angel reached his destination. He dragged his suitcases off the train, and trudged up the stairs leading to the street. The blast of cold air nearly sent him flying back down. Walking up the street for only one block, he arrived at the hospital, right next to Lola's Chicken.
Breathing heavily, and exhausted from carrying his bags, Angel entered the hospital and tripped over his baggage.
He marched up to the desk in the magnificent front hall. Pulling his hat away from his eyes, he asked, "Excuse me?"
"Can I help you?" the man at the desk answered in a bored tone of voice. He fiddled with the pencil behind his ear as he stared at Angel with an expressionless face.
"I'm here to see Lourdes Schunard," he stated firmly, "Can you tell me where she's at?"
"Hold on, I'll look it up," he replied, mumbling, and staring back at his glowing computer screen. "Room 18 on the fifth floor," he said after a long pause.
"Thank you," replied Angel as he gathered his bags in his aching arms, and stepped into the elevator.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Angel was a kid, he went to a hospital once with Mami so she could get some kind of blood test. He liked the hospital. He liked the idea of everything being clean, and he thought the stark, white walls were pretty. Now that he was here because Mami was sick, he hated the thought of being here. The white walls were blinding, and the clean smell made him nauseous and dizzy. Glancing at each of the shiny golden numbers on the door, he finally found room number 18. His heart was thumping with anxiety inside his chest, as he entered the room. What he saw made his head spin.
"That's not Mami," he whispered, as he looked at the ghost lying on the cold cot. Even though the figure barely resembled his mother, he knew it was she. When he got up close enough, he still saw a frightening mirror image of himself. Her lips were drained of all color, and her face looked like she was covered in white makeup. The warm, caramel color of her skin had disappeared. Most haunting, though, were the cuts and bruises. He could see her upper arms, and vibrant blue-purple of the bruises looked even brighter against her skin. The large, scabbing cut next to her eye looked like it had been painted on with that stuff the kids use on Halloween.
Angel touched her pale face, noticing the difference between their complexions. "I love you, Mami," he whispered in her ear as he stroked her soft, chestnut hair.
The corners of her mouth twitched as Mami's eyes fluttered open. Although the rest of her body was pale and beaten, her eyes were still a vibrant, sparkling amber, and brighter than ever.
"Angel," she said, as she lifted her bruised arm, and held his hand, "Did Ceci tell you I was here?"
"Yes. Mami, what happened?" asked Angel, sounding like a little kid.
"Your Papi wasn't happy that I left him, hijo," she told him, as he squeezed her hand tightly, listening to her rhythmic, Peruvian accent, "He got drunk and -"she paused, "It's not important what he did, but he is arrested now. We don't have to worry about him."
"Mami, we do have to worry! And what happened matters. He hurt you." Angel trailed off, holding back tears.
"Mi hijo," she whispered, "It's fine. Don't worry about me. It was supposed to be this way. At least I get to see you one more time. I love you, Angel."
"Don't talk like that. We have plenty of time together. Now it'll just be you and me, and we'll be happy together."
"I'm dying, Angel. I don't have much time, and I know that. They can't stop the bleeding. It's only a matter of time before I -"
"No!" yelled Angel, "You can't leave me! I have nowhere to go!"
"What about Lenny?" she asked in a calm, soothing voice.
"His parents found out about us," he quieted down, "They sent him to military school and kicked me out. I have nowhere! I HAVE NOBODY!" he boomed, then paused, breathing a heavy sigh, "but you."
"You will need to learn how to live without me. You're a strong person, hijo, I know you'll be fine."
Angel looked at her, "How can you say that? I'm gonna die without you!"
"You can't think that way," she said quietly, breathing heavily, "I'd rather you be happy without me than miserable with me and Papi."
"Papi's gone!" he screamed at her, gripping tightly onto her fragile, bone- white hands, "It'll just be us. We'll be happy, we'll -"
Angel stopped abruptly when his mother's hand convulsed in his grip. Her entire body began to twict as her sparkling eyes dulled and began to roll to the back of her head.
"Mamita!" he exclaimed.
Regaining composure for only a few precious minutes, she spoke softly, "I'm going soon, hijo, I can feel it. I need to tell you, though, live each moment as your last. Treasure the ones you love, and put them before yourself," her grip tightened around her son's hand, her body resuming it's shaking.
Suddenly, her eyes brightened as she gazed into the identical eyes of her son, "Today for you," she whispered to him, "Tomorrow for me."
Her body went limp as the heart monitor let out a piercing, everlasting "BEEP."
Digging through the pockets of his worn-down jacket, Angel managed to scrape up just enough money for a subway ride and a phone call. He was not looking forward to staying at a shelter, but he did have an alternative: Mami.
Angel's mother was staying with a close friend of hers in the Bronx, Ceci Casablanca. Angel knew Ceci very well, and his family had always been close with hers. Angel was good friends with Ceci's daughter, Carlotta.
He dug vigorously through his pockets to find the letter his mother had written him a few months ago. She had left Ceci's number on the bottom of the paper. He finally found the paper, wrinkled and creased from being folded and unfolded so many times. Unfolding it one more time, his eyes dropped to the bottom of the paper, and found Ceci's number, written in thin, loopy handwriting.
He shoved a quarter quickly into the pay phone and briskly dialed the number, waiting impatiently as the phone rang into his ear.
"Hello," a young girl's voice answered quickly on the other line.
"Is Lourdes Schunard there?" asked Angel hopefully.
"Angel! Oh my God! It's Carlotta. How are you?" she screeched into the phone. Wincing from the loudness, he smiled and answered her.
"Uh, I'm alright. How are you?"
"Okay, I guess. Wow, I haven't talked to you in SO long. I miss you!" she exclaimed without pausing to take a breath.
"I miss you too. I'll come and visit soon though. Mami said she was living in your house now, is she there?" the dead silence on the other end alarmed Angel. Carlotta was never this quiet. "Well?" he asked again.
"Oh my God, you don't know," she said, more to herself than to him. Continuing, "Honey, um, last week, your Papi came here. He was drunk and," she paused uncharacteristically to take a breath, "he found her. He beat her real bad, and we think he might have raped her, but she's refusing to tell us anything."
Angel's mouth hung open in shock.
"I'm so sorry," Carlotta continued.
"Is she okay?" Angel asked frantically.
"Well, she isn't doing so great. She's in a lot of pain, and she's internally bleeding. The doctors stopped it a few days ago, but she was coughing yesterday, and I guess the bleeding started up again. Things don't look good, Ang."
"Can I see her?" he questioned, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, of course. Take the subway down here. You remember where my house is, right?"
"Yeah."
"The hospital's about 2 blocks up, right next to Lola's Fried Chicken."
"I think I remember now. I'll be there as soon as I can," he replied.
"Okay. Hurry, baby, I don't know how much time she has."
"Be there in a few," he told her, and hung up the phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With two suitcases and barely enough money to afford the subway ride, Angel was having difficulty. His bags weren't big, but together, they took up a lot of space and weighed a ton. The weight of the bags couldn't even compare to the giant weight on his chest. He had just lost Lenny, the love of his life, and now he was about to lose his mother. "I'm one lucky son- of-a-bitch," he mumbled to himself as the subway car jerked along. The ride to the Bronx wasn't terribly short, but it seemed like an eternity.
Finally, when it seemed like the car could go no longer, Angel reached his destination. He dragged his suitcases off the train, and trudged up the stairs leading to the street. The blast of cold air nearly sent him flying back down. Walking up the street for only one block, he arrived at the hospital, right next to Lola's Chicken.
Breathing heavily, and exhausted from carrying his bags, Angel entered the hospital and tripped over his baggage.
He marched up to the desk in the magnificent front hall. Pulling his hat away from his eyes, he asked, "Excuse me?"
"Can I help you?" the man at the desk answered in a bored tone of voice. He fiddled with the pencil behind his ear as he stared at Angel with an expressionless face.
"I'm here to see Lourdes Schunard," he stated firmly, "Can you tell me where she's at?"
"Hold on, I'll look it up," he replied, mumbling, and staring back at his glowing computer screen. "Room 18 on the fifth floor," he said after a long pause.
"Thank you," replied Angel as he gathered his bags in his aching arms, and stepped into the elevator.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Angel was a kid, he went to a hospital once with Mami so she could get some kind of blood test. He liked the hospital. He liked the idea of everything being clean, and he thought the stark, white walls were pretty. Now that he was here because Mami was sick, he hated the thought of being here. The white walls were blinding, and the clean smell made him nauseous and dizzy. Glancing at each of the shiny golden numbers on the door, he finally found room number 18. His heart was thumping with anxiety inside his chest, as he entered the room. What he saw made his head spin.
"That's not Mami," he whispered, as he looked at the ghost lying on the cold cot. Even though the figure barely resembled his mother, he knew it was she. When he got up close enough, he still saw a frightening mirror image of himself. Her lips were drained of all color, and her face looked like she was covered in white makeup. The warm, caramel color of her skin had disappeared. Most haunting, though, were the cuts and bruises. He could see her upper arms, and vibrant blue-purple of the bruises looked even brighter against her skin. The large, scabbing cut next to her eye looked like it had been painted on with that stuff the kids use on Halloween.
Angel touched her pale face, noticing the difference between their complexions. "I love you, Mami," he whispered in her ear as he stroked her soft, chestnut hair.
The corners of her mouth twitched as Mami's eyes fluttered open. Although the rest of her body was pale and beaten, her eyes were still a vibrant, sparkling amber, and brighter than ever.
"Angel," she said, as she lifted her bruised arm, and held his hand, "Did Ceci tell you I was here?"
"Yes. Mami, what happened?" asked Angel, sounding like a little kid.
"Your Papi wasn't happy that I left him, hijo," she told him, as he squeezed her hand tightly, listening to her rhythmic, Peruvian accent, "He got drunk and -"she paused, "It's not important what he did, but he is arrested now. We don't have to worry about him."
"Mami, we do have to worry! And what happened matters. He hurt you." Angel trailed off, holding back tears.
"Mi hijo," she whispered, "It's fine. Don't worry about me. It was supposed to be this way. At least I get to see you one more time. I love you, Angel."
"Don't talk like that. We have plenty of time together. Now it'll just be you and me, and we'll be happy together."
"I'm dying, Angel. I don't have much time, and I know that. They can't stop the bleeding. It's only a matter of time before I -"
"No!" yelled Angel, "You can't leave me! I have nowhere to go!"
"What about Lenny?" she asked in a calm, soothing voice.
"His parents found out about us," he quieted down, "They sent him to military school and kicked me out. I have nowhere! I HAVE NOBODY!" he boomed, then paused, breathing a heavy sigh, "but you."
"You will need to learn how to live without me. You're a strong person, hijo, I know you'll be fine."
Angel looked at her, "How can you say that? I'm gonna die without you!"
"You can't think that way," she said quietly, breathing heavily, "I'd rather you be happy without me than miserable with me and Papi."
"Papi's gone!" he screamed at her, gripping tightly onto her fragile, bone- white hands, "It'll just be us. We'll be happy, we'll -"
Angel stopped abruptly when his mother's hand convulsed in his grip. Her entire body began to twict as her sparkling eyes dulled and began to roll to the back of her head.
"Mamita!" he exclaimed.
Regaining composure for only a few precious minutes, she spoke softly, "I'm going soon, hijo, I can feel it. I need to tell you, though, live each moment as your last. Treasure the ones you love, and put them before yourself," her grip tightened around her son's hand, her body resuming it's shaking.
Suddenly, her eyes brightened as she gazed into the identical eyes of her son, "Today for you," she whispered to him, "Tomorrow for me."
Her body went limp as the heart monitor let out a piercing, everlasting "BEEP."