day one. I’ve only seen color on her face and joy in her eyes in the last year or so, and I would do anything to keep that growing brighter.
I don’t want her to worry about me.
“I’m going to be fine,” I assure her. “I promise you. This is just part of the game.”
She grumbles something and looks away.
I’m lying there on the couch with the frozen peas on my knee, Armando sifting through the vinyl collection by the record player, when headlights flash outside the door.
“Who the hell is that?” I ask. We have gates that are operated by code and not that many people know it.
“It’s Mateo,” my mother says, her chin raised in defiance.
“You called him?”
“I texted him,” she says. “I had to. How are you going to get to the facility tomorrow? You can’t drive. He said he would be right over.”
I press my hand over my eyes. I can’t believe she called my coach like he’s got nothing better to do than to drag my sorry ass around. “That is so unprofessional,” I mutter.
“Well, I don’t care. He’s your coach. He’s practically a father to you. And you call someone like that when you’re in trouble.”
There’s a knock at the door and my mother goes over to it while Armando watches curiously. He’s always been a bit intimidated by Mateo.
She opens it and I hear her say, “Who the hell are you?”
I raise my head and see Thalia on the other side of the door, dressed in her uniform, hair pulled back in a low bun.
“I’m here for Alejo,” Thalia says in English, which of course my mother doesn’t understand.
I sit up and say in Spanish, “It’s okay, Mama, it’s my therapist. Let her in.”
But my mother does no such thing. “She is not your therapist. She is some crazy fan of yours.”
“She is not a crazy fan. She is my physical therapist.”
“Is she a hooker? Did Mateo send you a hooker? Is this his idea of making you feel better?” She reaches out and actually tugs at her Adidas jacket collar. “Are you naked under there?”
“?Mamá!” I yell, trying to get up. “Please.”
Meanwhile, Thalia is staring at my mother with wide eyes, obviously with no idea what she’s saying, which is for the best.
“Should I go?” Thalia asks me. “Mateo called and said you needed to be taken to Valdebebas.”
“Come in,” I tell her.
Thalia eyes my mother and shakes her head. “I don’t want to disrespect your mother.”
“Oh, her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Is this your girlfriend?” Armando asks me, in Spanish thankfully, as he comes over to pull me up to my feet.
“No,” I tell him quickly, wincing at the pressure on my leg. “She is my therapist. Seriously. You want to see her credentials?”
“If they’re underneath that jacket, then yes.”
I reach out and smack my brother across the head. “Show some respect, you idiot.”
“Do you need any help?” A deep male voice asks in Spanish.
I look over to see a tall, somewhat familiar man standing behind Thalia, peering inside.
“And let me guess, you are the pimp?” my mother asks him, hand on her hip. But at least she steps aside so the man can step inside.
“I’m the driver, Manuel,” Manuel says, giving my mother an odd look. He then turns his attention to me. “Do you need help?”
I shake my head, swallowing my pride, and try to walk, but I stop in pain after one step.
“Easy, Alejo,” Thalia calls out as Manuel comes over and puts my arm over his shoulder. He’s a stocky man, so he supports me with ease.
My mother gives us a wide berth as we head outside.
“I’m going to call Mateo and make sure you’re not being kidnapped by a hooker and her pimp!” she cries out.
“Mama, please,” I tell her. “It’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You better. Al mal tiempo, buena cara,” she says.
“Sí, sí,” I tell her as Manuel leads me to the back of the town car and opens the door for me. I get in and put my leg up across the other seat while Thalia gets into the front seat beside Manuel.
We drive off through the gates.
“Al mal tiempo, buena cara,” Thalia repeats, twisting in her seat to face me, her lovely face in the shadows. “Why have I heard that before? What does it mean?”
“If there is bad weather, put on a good face,” Manuel says. “A popular saying.”
I nod. “I believe the English equivalent would be, suck it up buttercup.”