Page 35 of Tryst

He isn’t even here.

Sliding from bed, I grab my robe to cover myself and tie the belt quickly around my waist. Opening the bedroom door reveals Andres on the other side, which startles me.

“Ma’am,” Andres reaches for my hand, “We have to go.”

Looking down, I realize that his hand is covered in blood. Both of his hands are covered in blood. His arms and clothes are covered in it as well. It is only then that the nauseating, metallic smell hits me.

Nearly on autopilot, my body follows behind Andres. I feel numb, my brain unable to comprehend whatever it is that his happening in this moment.

“Andres,” I stutter over the lump in my throat as he gently pulls me into the elevator, my bare feet stepping in puddles of cold, wet blood. “Whose blood is this?”

He doesn’t answer. Dropping my hand, he pushes the button for the floor beneath ours and we ride in silence for the eternity it takes the elevator to travel the floor.

When the doors open, my body instinctively follows the trail of blood down the hallway.

So much blood.

Pushing open the door with the bloodied handprints, I step into a relatively dark, unfurnished apartment. Eduardo and a man I have never seen are hovering over a table, rash words coming from them both.

As I walk further into the apartment, I see more blood dripping from the table and pooling into the now stained carpet. When I realize who is laying on the table, my heart stops and stomach flops.

“Alex,” the word whispers over my lips as I run to his side.

“Oh my God,” I scream when I reach him.

He doesn’t even look like my husband. His skin is grayish in appearance, his eyes sunken, and he looks frail and weak.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yell, my attention darting back to Andres and Eduardo, as I grab Alex’s hand. “He needs to go to the fucking hospital.”

“This is the hospital, señora,” the man I’ve never seen speaks with a thick accent as he shoves an IV needle into Alex’s arm.

“Cerecita,” Alex’s eyelids flutter and he squeezes my hand, “lo siento.”

“No!” I firmly squeeze his hand back with both of mine, “You don’t get to be sorry.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,”his words are so faint, they are nearly inaudible, “I have so much to tell you. So much you need to know.”

“Don’t you dare,” tears trickle down my face when I realize why I was brought here.

Alex is going to die.

His grip on my hand loosens and I watch as his eyelids flutter, “Just know I love you,cerecita. That part was never a lie.”

Clutching his near lifeless hand to my chest, I scream at the other men in the room, “Fucking do something!”

As though my screams are silent, they all ignore me. The three of them continuing to try to stop the blood from pumping out of Alex’s body.

“No, Alex!” I squeeze his hand and pound it against my chest before releasing it.

As though I have no control over myself, my hand comes down hard against Alex’s face. The slap echoing through the near empty room as it leaves a red mark across his cheek. Andres grips my arms and pulls me from Alex, but I fight against his hold, and he releases me.

Stepping back to Alex, I slap him again.

“You don’t get to fucking die. Do you hear me?” My tearful words are filled with anger, “You don’t get to fucking die and leave me like this.”

I smack him again and again, as tearful demands continue to spill from my lips. I yell at him until I am no longer physically able to continue and my exhausted body collapses to my knees.

His face next to mine, I gently wrap my arms around him and press my face to his. Sobbing, my tears roll down his face as much as they do mine.

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