From Far Away

Music blares from the corner store, whose owner languishes on his stoop waiting for a customer. The sun is hot in the sky, and there is laughter and rapid-fire Spanish from the kids playing outside. She wishes she could join them. But she can barely move her arm without wincing. Sweat pools under the bandage she’s wearing, irritating the skin held together by a line of white stitches that stand out against the tan of her skin.

She decides to sit on the porch, where she can at least see them. Heat radiates in a curtain above car hoods, the graying tar of the street. An ice cream truck can be heard tinkling its way down the street. At once, in a flurry of pink shorts and cartoon tees, the children disappear into their houses, no doubt for a wrinkled dollar to present to the man behind the makeshift counter. Ashley’s stomach wrenches. Why can’t I do that? she thinks.

Abuelita is watching novelas and drinking a glass of iced tea. She’s fairly young for being a grandmother, but she loves her son’s baby girl all the same- as much as she detests her son for putting her and her mother through this hell.

She hears the truck while it’s stopped in the middle of the street and smiles, reaching for her purse. “Nena,” she calls, walking toward the doorway, “you want a dollar for ice cream?”
But the sight on her porch stops her dead. There is a group of children around Ashley. “Can we see?” one little boy asks, pointing a skinny finger toward Ashley’s bandage.

It could get infected, Alma wants to say. But tentatively, her granddaughter lifts the gauze, revealing the thin line of plastic stitches woven into her skin. The children are hushed in awe, and Alma wonders if any of them has seen anything like that before. “It looks like a long caterpillar,” a little girl remarks, smiling in fascination.

“I think it’s cool,” another boy says. He’s chubby, stomach protruding underneath a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tee. “Here,” he continues, handing her an ice cream sandwich. “I always get two for a dollar. You can have this one. My name’s Louie, by the way.”

The smile on Ashley’s face could light up every streetlamp in the neighborhood. “Thanks. I’m Ashley.”

“I know! Let’s have a race,” one child suggests. “First one up to Ashley wins!”

“And then we can find her the prettiest flower and have her judge,” the little girl who mentioned caterpillars says.

“How about the biggest rock?” Louie says. They cluck in delight, running in all directions.

Alma is touched. She watches from the doorway, forgetting her soap opera as the children place object after object into Ash’s lap, making her laugh. Many of those children were related to her through distant cousins or uncles, though she didn’t know it. Louie would grow to become one of her best friends.

But no one knew it yet. And five months later, she would be back in the lion’s den.

Louie Alvarez reaches the house at the same time Bobby and Ashley do. He’s turned his fat into muscle since his childhood days and stretched out to six foot three, but he’s still maintained his penchant for joking around. “Ah, so this is why you haven’t called lately,” he says, jogging up to them as they beeline for the house.

“Not now, Louie. I just need to get in there,” she says, blowing past him with Bobby following.

“Drunken mother…” The young man shakes his head, then offers Bobby a quick handshake. “Louie.”

“Bobby.”

“Typical white boy name.”

They find the inside of the house a mess. No- “mess” implies it can be cleaned up. Almost everything is shattered; books are scattered throughout, pages ripped out and bindings torn clean off. “Jesus,” Louie breathes. “This is the worst yet.”

“You mean… it’s happened before?” Bobby asks him.

“Yes,” Ashley says. “Plenty of times. And every time he comes back.”

The TV is blaring; Bobby bends to shut it off, but Ashley and Louie tell him, “No.”

“If the police have to be called…” Ashley adds. Bobby nods, his mouth dry as he surveys the damage. “Where is Alex?” she asks, moving faster, running upstairs. “Alex?”

"I'll check the basement," Louie says, and starts toward the door. A low groan sounds from the kitchen, making all three of them stop dead. Immediately, Ash races down the stairs to find her mother, bloodied up, laying facedown on the floor there. “Jesus Chri- Mami,” she cries, kneeling next to her.

Bobby stares, feeling as though he’s just been checked by Andy Sutton. No breath enters or leaves his body; all he can do is stare at the woman in front of him, try to find how she resembles Ashley in any way. All he can see is her injuries; her front teeth chipped, her brow split open, her hair ripped out in places. There are huge bruising welts on her arms and thighs, and she’s having trouble bending or breathing. He can see bruises in the shape of finger marks on her neck as well. “Mami, please talk to me,” Ashley whispers, pulling her into her lap as though Emily is the child, she herself the parent. “Please?”

“Police… went after him,” she murmurs, licking her lips with a dry tongue. She opens her eyes and finds her daughter blurred, wavering in her tattered vision. “Alex…called.”

“Mom, where is he?” Ashley demands. “Is there an ambulance?”

“On the way,” a small voice says from the top of the stairs. Relieved, Louie runs up to him, picking him up.

“You scared the shit out of us, kid,” he says.”Where were you?”

“Hiding… he was trying to find me. I didn’t know what he wanted.”

“Where’d you hide?” Ashley asks, hugging him tightly. He smells like sleep and- she shudders- blood.

“Your closet. He never sets foot in your room anymore.”

At six years old, Alex is smarter than most adults Ashley knows. She sighs, hugging him again and not even bothering to ask how he knows that- or why her father can’t bear knowing anything of his daughter anymore. “Jesus, I almost lost you both.”

They hear the slow-starting scream of ambulance sirens just as Emily passes out.

**********************************
“Louie’s like a brother to me,” Ashley says later to Bobby, as she watches him drive off with Alex in tow, sleeping in the back seat. “We’ve known each other since we were twelve. We actually dated for a while, when we were in high school. He was crazy for me, but…”

“Too brotherly?”

“Well, he just doesn’t know when to chill out. He goes into automatic protect mode all the time. And it’s sweet, really, but… not when you already know how to protect yourself.”

“He seems like a good guy, though,” Bobby admits, cracking open another beer. “He was really worried about your mom.”

“We all have been,” Ashley says. She stares out onto the water, the sky dark, lights on the other side lending iridescence to the surface of the bay. They’ve watched Emily be admitted to the ER, immediately put into surgery. They waited as long as they could, but the doctors finally said no more could be done by them, it was better that they go get some sleep, any changes in condition would be notified to them via phone. Standard bullshit, but it had given Ashley a chance to vent, crying into first Louie’s shoulder, then Bobby’s. Finally, to give her some time alone, Louie asked Alex if he wanted to hang out with him in Long Beach.

Which left Bobby and Ashley alone, going through a six-pack of Corona they’d bought along the way, her doing most of the talking as they sit on the hood of his car. The beer kept her loose, languid, only dimly aware of the fact that her mother was in the hospital hovering close to the other side.

“So… will Louie, like, be upset if he finds out we’re kind of dating?” Bobby asks Ashley suddenly. She looks at him.

“Are we?”

“Well, I mean… I don’t want to leave you hanging.”

“I’ll be honest, by now I was certain you would have run off scared as hell.” She takes a swig.

“Do I look that type?”

“Well, yeah. No, I’m just saying that you wouldn’t have been the first. My last two boyfriends have both had to witness drunken interludes with my father, and neither of them stuck around for much longer after that.”

“Sucks for them.” He brushes a lock of hair away from her face. “I think I’m a little tougher than that to scare off, though.”

Thank God it’s dark, she thinks. He can’t see me blushing. She keeps quiet and takes another drink. “You haven’t answered, though,” she dares.

“Hmm?”

“Are we? You know, dating?”

“Well, I certainly don’t have anyone else in my life. And… I like you.” He smiles. “I like you more than you think.”

His hand brushes hers in the dark. Without questioning or even speaking, she accepts it.

**********************************
The sky is lighter when they wake up. Bobby blinks sleep out of his eyes and gently shakes Ashley awake. “Come on,” he whispers. "It's almost dawn."

They drive to her apartment in silence. Trees, buildings, the lines on the road- everything is lost on Ashley, who lies with her head on the seat rest, peering at the world from under heavy eyelids. Finally, they pull up, and Bobby cuts the engine.

“Ashley,” he whispers. She looks over at him. “You remember when I told you I had family issues of my own, right?” She nods.

“Well… my dad beat my mom up once. When he was drunk. He showed up at the house and damn near killed her.”

“Jesus…”

“Yeah. I was ten at the time. He was supposed to be in jail. But he jumped bail and brought us with him after Mom got out of the hospital. She spent a long time wondering if she should go or not, what would happen to her, him, me, everyone… and finally she bit the bullet. My dad changed our names. I ended up in California playing hockey, and we thought everything would be okay.

“Then, he got arrested when I was thirteen. He tripped up, used an old credit card, and they found him. I spent a lot of my adolescence without him.”

She’s quiet, absorbing his whole story. At length, he thinks she might have fallen asleep again, but finally, she says something.

“He’s sorry, though.”

“He is. I’m just trying to say I know what you’re going through. Which is why you’re not going to scare me off. Not one little bit.”

They get out of the car and he walks her up to her door. Suddenly, it’s like she’s undressed in front of him; awkward and nearly clumsy with her keys, she can’t meet his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, and feels a hand tilting her chin upward.

His eyes are crystalline, reflecting her face as clearly as if she were looking into a mirror. Without saying a word, he bends down and presses his lips to hers, stretching his hand into her hair. Her eyes close; her lips part, kissing him back slowly. When it ends, she wonders why she can’t kiss him a little bit longer.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back huskily, and then takes her hand in his own, leaving a small kiss on the back of it. “I’ll call you later. Get some sleep.”

She nods. And just like that, he’s headed down the hall, leaving her with the touch of his lips still soft on hers.