Page 68 of The Delivery

“I thought maybe we could move to Detroit. Be closer to your family. The economy is picking up. Besides, that’s where I applied to art school.”

“You what?” I yelp, crawling across the haphazardly strewn covers to the edge of the bed. All I could see were his legs, his head and torso had disappeared underneath.

“What the hell? Oh, here it is!” Mozey says as he proudly produces a box. He was already on his knees, my head was dangling over the side of the bed above him.

“But we’ve never even had sex,” I whisper through the fog of disbelief.

“Aaaaand, we’re not supposed to. I mean, yet. Didn’t you ever go to church?”

“Yeah. Right.”

The ring was one of a kind, handcrafted by a skilled artisan. A simple band of brushed gold, encrusted with deep, red garnet. I knew immediately that he’d had a hand in designing it.

“We’re supposed to go be reunited with your sister who you haven’t seen in fifteen years. Get your kidney chopped out by some narcos whom she still may want to live with if and when she recovers. You’re the center of a media storm and both of our lives may be in danger. We’ve never had sex because we’re both too chicken shit to fuck up our friendship. And you show up with a ring?”

Mozey smiles warmly, nodding his head. There he goes being amused again with whatever I do or say. He takes my hand and holds it in his.

“Lana, I’m being totally sincere. I want to be with you.”

“I’m glad you think it’s funny because I’m really confused and scared. When the hell did you get that, anyway?” I glare at the ring like it has an ulterior motive.

“At the tianguis en el zócalo,” he says, continuing the smile. “What?”

“Just kidding—I’ve had it for a while. Last night, when I went out to paint, I felt really fucked up. I was looking for the right spot and then I got to thinking that this past week should have felt like the worst in my life. But because I was with you, it felt like an adventure.”

“So you wanna put a ring on it because it’s all good times? News flash. I’m not always fun.”

“I know you’re not. You’re a pain in my ass. But I don’t want to ever do one single thing from here on out without you by my side. Because you make everything better, Lana. You make me want to enjoy life.”

“Is this a joke or a media ploy? Are you really proposing? There are easier ways to get a green card, Mo.”

Mozey pulls back like he’s appalled at my reaction.

“I fucking put my heart on my sleeve and you—what do you want me to do? Slit my wrists to prove I’m not joking. I want to be with you. I don’t want you to be my girlfriend. I want you forever.”

He stands up from the floor, pulls me to my knees on the bed and then into a hug. I breathe in the scent that’s so dear to me and at the same time pushes blood through my veins making my heart charge like a racehorse out of the starting gate.

“Here,” Mozey says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it until he finds what he wants. An email exchange with my dad dated over a week ago.

With our blessings, my son. Of course! There has never been anyone other than you.

Doesn’t really come across so great in translation, Dad. Thanks, I think.

My eyes are raw with the weight of tears again as I imagine my dad, excitedly typing, probably with one finger like I’ve seen him do, all the while translating everything to Russian as my mom hangs on each word. Mozey has likely made them happier than they’ve ever been. They could care less that he’s unemployed, undereducated or illegal. He loves their daughter as much as they do, and it’s all they’ve ever wanted. For someone with a good heart to see past the spikes, to risk the bloody fingers for the pure enjoyment of the sweet, hidden fruit inside.

That was our engagement. I didn’t say yes or no, but I let him put the ring on my finger. I lift it up to look at it, and Mozey reaches over and grasps my hand. He smiles at me sweetly and winks, then leans over into my seat to whisper in my ear, “Thank you for saying yes. I know you hate it when I’m right.”

I look down at our hands and nod, sniffing away the tears.

“I didn’t say yes yet.”

“I know, but you will.”

My real fear is that they’ll chop him to bits before we can ever get a chance to make love, let alone tie the knot. But I see his smile, and I know he’s happy. He’s found his sister, and he’s now got the promise of a new family, and of course, my parents and brother couldn’t be happier to induct him into ours. It’s like Mozey is their long lost favorite child.

My confident voice screams, be happy too, this is what you want. My insecure voice tells me he popped the proposal with perfect timing because a foreign girlfriend would drum up too much international interest for them to want to disappear him altogether.

The flight from Mexico City to Dallas takes us a little under three hours. We were notified mid-flight that Brisa has already been transferred, so there’s no longer any reason to go to Ciudad Juárez. I’m relieved because I didn’t think we’d make it out of that city alive.

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