Page 87 of Out of the Blue

I make a beeline to the nurse’s desk. “Hi. I’m looking for Trent Washington.” I point. “He’s not in his room.”

My breathing’s erratic while I wait for the nurse to consult her computer. “Ah. He was discharged this afternoon.”

“Discharged?” I repeat.

“Yes.”

I deflate. “Oh.” He’s gone? “Okay.” He left me. “Thanks.” Like everyone.

I stumble down the hallway, past his room, and fall into a chair in the waiting room. How could he leave without letting me know?Because he doesn’t want you in his life, stupid.Where is he?

I’m as empty as his hospital room. Desolate. Unwanted. Abandoned. Feelings I’m intimately acquainted with.

Anger rushes through my bones. How dare he? Well, if he can leave me behind without a backward glance, I can reciprocate. Fishing my cell phone out of my purse, I pull up his contact and press, “Block.” There. Two can play his game.

I don’t need him in my life. If I’ve learned anything in my twenty-five years, it’s no man ever wants me for longer than a roll in the hay. My father taught me this at an early age—minus the sex part, of course. Every other guy in my life has reinforced this truth. My only mistake was to believehewas different from all the rest. I jump to my feet and stomp out of the hospital, wiping my boots on the sidewalk.

I wake the next morning at the ungodly hour of six. My mother’s sofa bed has a bar that hits my back in the exact spot to prevent anyone from getting a good night’s sleep. At least I have a roof over my head. Stretching, I leave my uncomfortable bed and begin my morning ritual. I need to leave in a couple of hours to make it to Apex in the City on time. My first day back post-accident.

As I’m flat ironing my hair, the doorbell rings. Neither my mother nor my sister has shown their faces yet this morning, so I leave the device on the side of the sink and answer the door.

A guy in a grey jacket reading Rick’s Messenger Delivery stands on the stoop. “Miss Hernandez?”

I grab on to a lock of my hair and twirl it. “Yes.”

“Got a letter for you.” He points to his iPad for me to sign. When I’m done, he delivers an envelope with Apex as the return address to me.

Plodding back into the house, I mutter, “What did you have to write me a letter about, Trent?” Seriously, dude? A fucking letter? Never knew we were so formal. Using my finger, I break the seal and pull out the letter.

As I unfold the paper, my eyes bug out. Fired! Apex fired me. For “performance-related issues.” I crumple the pink slip up in my hand and whip it across the room. It lands at my mother’s slippered feet.

“What’s this?” She bends down and picks up proof of my failure.

With a listless voice, I admit, “Got fired.” No use trying to spin it.

She flattens the paper out on her leg. “I see.” She places the document on the kitchen table. “Well, not to add insult to injury, but last night Sebastián asked me to move in with him. Isn’t that great?”

My mother’s revolving door of men is doing much better than mine. “Wonderful.”

Her head bounces. “I agreed, of course.”

“Clearly.”

“And I’m moving out. You and your sister can have the apartment, if you want it.”

Two-bedrooms in the heart of Newark. I can have a bedroom. Although, without a job, how can I pay for it? “How much?”

“I’ve already paid for this month’s rent, so you’re good until the first. Thought you’d appreciate I did that for you.”

For me? Yeah, right. She probably couldn’t get this guy, Sebastián, to ask her sooner. I repeat, “How much is the rent?”

“Only two grand a month.”

How am I going to be able to pay this, plus Juanita’s tuition and my credit card bills? The only positive thing about my split from Trent is he didn’t add to my debt. I’ll figure it out somehow. I always do. “I’ll take it.”

Mamá points to my letter from Apex. “Better get on this.” With her parting shot, she leaves the room.

I fall onto my bed, which I haven’t returned into a sofa yet. On a side table, my phone rings, and Rita’s name appears. I’m not ready to talk with her, if I’ll ever be ready. I decline the call.

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