Despite the thought of his extra salary, I refuse to return to Señor Vasquez's shop. In fact, I avoid all the streets surrounding his shops as well. Por si las moscas. Just in case. I do not know how I am going to tell Papá; could he understand that I'd rather starve than face him again? Papá fell asleep anyway while looking over the bills, too exhausted to keep his eyes open. I steal away silently, praying he does not wake before I return. Only, this time, I take a long piece of cloth and wrap it around my waist like a belt. Opening a drawer, I take a knife and bury it securely behind the cloth belt, its cool metal pressed against my stomach even through my clothes.

As I begin to walk towards the downtown area of San Juan, I begin to feel sorry for having brought along the knife. What if someone, especially someone at the hospital, notices it on me? If I am attacked, will I have the nerve to use it? Could I pretend I had the courage to use it, or would my attacker be able to sense my weakness anyway? Would I be so weak? I shivered to think I might lash out in anger, in defense and regret the outcome.

Why do things have to be so dangerous, so difficult these days?

I swallow a trembling breath and stay towards the inside of the sidewalk, my hands pressed against my middle, where the cold knife lay.

Finally, before my mind could wander too much, I found the dim, glowing lights of the Hospital de San Juan. There were a few ambulances stationed at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the night's violence to take its course. A man in the ambulance gave me a wary glance, another surprised to see me alone; girls usually travel in groups or with an escort, I suppose. I had not noticed until then.

I kept walking as if I had not noticed his stare, eyes cast down, and I pushed through the door to the hospital. I stumbled my way up to receptionist's table and asked for Consuelo's room number in a quiet voice before turning down the hallway and up the stairs. I stopped before I entered her room, dropping my hands finally from my middle and exhaling. What if she was dead, the injury too terrible to even look at? Memories of her blood flowing onto her white clothing filled my mind; the red was so bright and shocking it had hurt my eyes to look on it.

I shook the image from my mind and slowly opened the door. The bright light emerging from the inside of the room was blinding at first and I squinted as I made my way inside.

"You made it," said a voice, such a warm familiar voice. "Indio was here too; you just missed him, though."

My eyes focused and I saw Consuelo, as pretty as ever, lying in the hospital bed. She looked pale against the starch white hospital sheets and had several tubes weaving in and out of her. I came up to her, speechless, and smiled as I sat next to her. She smiled back and took my hand in hers.

"Dios mío," I finally managed to murmur. "I'm so happy to see you…"

"Alive?" she finished, with a chuckle. "Suerte pura. Pure luck. The omens were good for me that night, I suppose."

"Still, you nearly died for me!" I exclaimed seriously. "And for that I am very grateful."

Consuelo smiled mischievously and attempted to prop herself up.

"Then you must do me a favor, querida. You must promise me you will still go to the dance next weekend, even if I cannot come."

"Ay, Consuelo, don't you ever think? There are more serious things now besides a dance!"

"But I thought you were grateful, Anita," she said, amused. "Are you not grateful enough to do me a tiny favor? ¡Que amor recibo de mis amigas!"

"Fine," I say, throwing up my hands and pretending to be annoyed. "I'll go. But only because you risked your life for me."

She smiled triumphantly. "Always the best reason to go to a dance!" Consuelo tried to laugh but grimaced suddenly, as if some pain had riveted through her body. She shifted herself again and squeezed my hand. "Visit me, will you? Tell me how the dance went and, if you can, keep both eyes on my Indio for me."

I nodded sincerely. "I'll bring you some fresh mango tomorrow. You'll see, you will be your old chatty self in no time at all! But, for now, you have a vacation y soy celosa de ti; you better take advantage, nena."

She smiled again, weaker this time.

"I suppose I'll have to!" she murmured.

I didn't know what else to say; for once, my words left me. Humor would be of no use now. I stayed with her as late as I could, which was when a nurse instructed me to let her sleep. I was grateful to leave. I couldn't stand the grave silence of the hospital. Besides, I needed to get home before it was too late. Even with a knife, the streets are never safe and I ran home before I gave a chance for myself to worry.