Page 51 of Wasted On Us

I’ve always hated hospitals. Doctors’ offices, emergency rooms. All of it reminds me of my mother. Being in this waiting room puts me right back to being a kid, dangling my feet from an uncomfortable plastic chair and eating junk from the vending machines while my mother gets weaker and weaker and my father smiles less and less. Only this time, I don’t have Abuelita at my side to comfort me and tell me that everything is going to be okay.

All we know for certain is that she has a sprained ankle. She might have a concussion, so they want to keep her under observation for a few hours. They also want to do an MRI and a CT scan, just in case. My father’s always convinced they want to run as many tests as they can so they can milk the insurance companies for as many dollars as possible. I know that they just want to be extra careful with someone of Abuelita’s age. All I want is the same thing. I’d pay for the tests myself if I had to.

My father has been talking to one of the doctors for a few minutes. When he finishes the conversation, he crosses the waiting room to where I am and quietly sits down next to me. His entire body radiates anger. Rarely have I seen him so tense, completely focused on not coming apart at the seams.

“Go home,” he whispers without looking at me, the syllables sharp as knives.

I shake my head, playing with the cap of the cheap water bottle I got from the nurses station. “I want to be here for Abuelita.”

“I’m here for Abuelita, and I don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stares down at his shoes, twisting the tip of one of them against the tile floor so hard that it squeaks. Though we’re inches away from each other, I’ve never felt so far away from him. “I really can’t even stand the sight of you. My only son betrayed me.”

“I’ll be silent,” I plead, but it’s no use.

Finally, he turns to look at me, and where I expected to see anger in his gaze, I only see hurt. Deep, disappointed pain. “Go. Home.”

I open my mouth to argue but can’t find the words. I don’t think I’ve ever hurt anyone this badly in my life. Certainly not anyone in my family. Family means everything to me. My whole world is lying in a hospital bed and it’s all my fault. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to apologize. No words could ever be enough. The only thing that can start to heal this wound is time. Without another word, I stand and shuffle out of the waiting room and through the emergency room doors out onto the sidewalk.

The sun just starts to peek over the horizon, making the sky that weak, cold shade of blue just after dawn. I mill around for a few minutes, not sure what to do with myself. I can’t stay here, but I can’t go home either. I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m not sure I can handle it. There’s only one person I can turn to, and I just have to hope that she isn’t done with me too.

I shoot Eden a text, asking her if she wants to meet for coffee at the clubhouse in the neighborhood. It’s neutral ground, somewhere not tinged by memories of better times with each other, and somewhere she can plausibly slink off to without getting in even more trouble with her parents this morning.

She answers with a curtsurefar faster than I anticipated, and I’m in my car and headed that way before I can even think twice. I don’t expect her to be happy to see me, but I’m beyond relieved that she’s even willing to still give us a chance. As her boyfriend, it’s my job to protect her, and I left her to face her father alone.

She arrives before I do, and sitting with her coffee cup in her hands, staring through the window, she looks even more miserable than I could’ve anticipated. I order my usual, a black coffee that I dump three sugars into, before hurrying over to her table. She barely looks at me when I sit down, instead gazing into the bottom third of her cup at the now-lukewarm dregs of her latte.

I pass her the croissant I bought her, knowing that she probably has eaten just as little as I have today. She takes it with a small smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes, and toys with the flaky crust.

“Thanks for the croissant,” she mumbles.

“You’re welcome.” I take a sip of my coffee, waiting for her to continue the conversation. She doesn’t. “Is your coffee okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Another weighty silence that I feel the need to fill. “Then why does it look like you’re drinking battery acid?”

Eden pushes her chair back from the table, propping her elbows against the surface and burying her face in her hands. “Because what I have to tell you sucks.”

A palpable despair sweeps over me at her words. The inevitability of what she’s about to say echoes in the hollowness of my chest. It feels as though I’m standing on the precipice of pain, peering into the fathomless depths of a life without her. It’s a bitterness, a wretchedness, that I don’t think I can stand. I’ve been in tough spots before, but the prospect of losing Eden feels like losing an integral part of myself. The hollow echo of her impending words reverberates in my skull, each word a nail hammered into the coffin of our relationship. I sit there, my heart heavy in my chest, trying to prepare myself for the agony that’s to come.

But how do you prepare for the loss of something as precious as love?

My breath stalls in my chest. “Don’t say it, then.”

“We have to stop seeing each other,” she groans, looking at me from between a small gap in her fingers. “We didn’t think this through. We hurt our families.”

“It’s just the shock,” I offer. We both knew the risks involved. There’s still a scrap of hope left inside of me, and I cling to it with both hands. “Everything is out in the open now. They just need time. They’ll adapt.”

“Your family might, but I know my father.” She takes a last sip of the bottom of her latte and grimaces. I don’t think her face is about the cold coffee, either. “And I don’t have anywhere else to live right now. So, I can’t be rocking the boat.”

“We’ll just keep it on the down-low.” The idea sounds juvenile the second it leaves my mouth. I don’t know why I keep trying to do the same thing I’ve always done. I’m not as young as I used to be, and sneaking around for a few quick hook-ups isn’t what I want anymore. It’s not only not feasible, but it isn’t satisfying. I’m not sure if I deserve better, but Eden certainly does.

“We tried that. Look what happened.” Eden gestures in front of her with her palm, as if she can physically point to the last twelve hours of our lives. “Besides, after getting caught, continuing to sneak around without their blessing will just make everything worse when we get caught again.”

She looks like she’s either going to cry, pass out, or throw up. I’m immediately reminded of the way I first found her, about to have a panic attack on the side of the road next to a busted headlight. I thought I was making things better for her. Instead, she’s right back where she started. Maybe even worse.

“I know.” I think, too, of how long Abuelita has been telling me to settle down, and of how much she insisted on me finding someone who made me happy. And until she remembered exactly who Eden was, she was certain that she was the girl to finally do it. “You know I love Abuelita. She wouldn’t want us to give up so easily.”

“You think this is easy?” Eden tears away a chunk of the croissant with her nails and angrily shoves it into her mouth. The fact that she’s eating anything at all eases my mind somewhat, even if she looks furious doing it. “And it makes no sense. Neither of us wanted this. This isn’t… what we do.”

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