Status: Coming along
Secret Hung the Gold
Thanks to Alex
To say that making Ariel uncomfortable is fun would be an understatement to Ernesto. He leaned down on the back of the couch and watched her standing there. Her eyes showed a will but her body seemed rigid as if she was fighting something.
Ernesto smiled harder. “You thirsty? I got some wine in the back. And two glasses.”
Ariel’s face reflected nothing but shock. “N-no thanks. I don’t drink.”
Ernesto stepped from behind the couch. “Good, ‘cause I can’t drink anyway.”
“Because of your arm?” Ariel asked, tilting her head slightly.
Ernesto frowned. “Yeah, the medicine they have my hyped on don’t mix with alcohol.”
“What happened?”
Ernesto inhaled, looking down at his arm. The pain was constant, like a hum in the back of his head that wouldn’t release even if he took the entire bottle. There were times that Ernest would sit in his room and stare at the bottle, wondering what it would be like to dump all of the pills down his throat. Would he hurt then? Would he still wake to a life like this? No father, hardly a mother, selling drugs just to buy food for a week, bullets flying every night for absolutely no reason, putting your life in danger just to get robbed a while later? That is what he woke to every morning. And he hated it.
“I fell.” The lie slipped from between his lips so effortlessly he shocked himself. He glanced up to see Ariel absorbing it. She believed him. It hurt a little to lie to her, with her angelic presence, and made him feel like a devil. But just as quick as the idea arose, it dissipated. If he walked around with that attitude, he wouldn’t last thirty seconds on the street.
“So are you going to be on school on monday?” Ariel asked. Ernesto just looked at her for a second, absorbing her perfection, her long hair, her beautiful face. She looked out of place standing in his living room, even though she only wore a snug pink V-neck and a pair of blue jeans. There was a glow that surrounded her, like the sun shown through the open window just to present her. Her smile was rare to him, but when it appeared, he felt like a million angels just sung to him.
But there was no way he’d ever tell anyone that.
“Prolly Monday.” Ernesto said. “The doc’ll let me know tomorrow.”
She nodded again, and glanced toward the open door. She double taked when she saw several men surrounding her car. Ernesto followed her gaze and walked through the door, walking up to the guys. He spoke to them, and they slowly separated. Ariel walked out on the front porch and slowly descended.
“I guess it’s time for me to go,” Ariel said. If Ernesto didn’t know any better, he would have detected a hint of sadness in her voice.
“Alright.” Ernesto said. Ariel began to walk away. “Hey, Ariel?” She turned. Ernesto paused for a second. “What, no hug, no kiss?”
He smiled as Ariel smiled and watched her get into her car. The engine sounded up beautifully and with a quick wave, she was gone. Ernesto stood in that spot long after the car disappeared.
“Ernesto,” it was his brother Alex. “Who the hell was that?”
He looked at his brother and smiled, wrapping his good arm around his shoulder. “No one, bro.”
Ernesto stayed up past his brother and sisters. He sat on the patterned chair and stared at the black screen of the television. The unopened folder sat on his lap, and his hand rested on it. He flicked the edges of the folder until the paper became dogeared. Nothing was crossing his mind, at this point it was as blank as the television he stared at.
Ernesto looked down at his arm in the sling. At the moment it didn’t hurt, but upon looking at it, Ernesto felt a pang through his heart. It wasn’t one of pain; that was something he could handle; rather, this was one of anger, this burning fire inside his chest. All directed towards Stratton.
Flashes of the night played in Ernesto’s head. First the debilitating shot through the rotator cuff, then the endless kicks, punches, even a brick, slamming down on Ernesto’s limp body. Ernesto remembered looking up into Stratton’s smiling face and hearing him saying only one thing: “You shoulda just took the gun.”
His mother cried at his feet as he lay in the hospital. That was the first sound he heard when he woke- besides the hum in his head. She was praying. Her tears burned through the sheets, down into the bed, searing Ernesto’s skin. Her sobs swelled his heart, made him feel like dirt for even thinking he could tell Stratton what to do. The five hundred dollars was never found.
Now, Ernesto’s mother is more in debt. Ernesto’s surgery to remove the bullet, to reset his bone, and the x-ray to find out he had two broken ribs, piled more and more bills on top of the bills his mother already has. Now, her three shift days will turn into four.
And it wasn’t even his fault.
Ernesto would sell but nothing of that size. But thanks to Alex, Ernesto had no choice but to tell Stratton was was to happen. And that is what got him here.
If Alex would have just stayed in a child’s place, then Ernesto would have use of his arm, have his ribs all in one piece, and their mother wouldn’t be so far in debt.
Ernesto lifted his shirt, staring at the ugly purple bruises that branched out like a autumn tree from the bandage over his ribs. He knew of the purple bruise under his eye, it was the first thing everyone saw. Sharp pains still pulsed in his shoulder, and, even though his ordeal occurred about a week ago, the bandages always remained a crimson color.
Ernesto rose from the couch, a groan escaping his throat. He hated that couch, the way it folded over whomever sat. That hate was multiplied now that every bone in his body felt like glass, brittle and painful. Now that he thought of it, he hated everything. The tiny house, the sunken couch, the fact that Ernesto works and works, but can never seem to just get out. His mother will always be in debt, no matter how many bags of “merchandise” he sells. They will always eat food so far on the brink of expiration, the store practically gives it away. How many nights, Ernesto has to take a cold shower, because mom had to strategically choose exactly what bills to pay.
As Ernesto slid down into his bed, wincing as he moved each part of his body slowly onto the bed, he found himself angry. Only because he felt like a fish swimming against a current, using all of his power to move then opening his eyes and seeing he was farther back than he was when he first began.
Ernesto smiled harder. “You thirsty? I got some wine in the back. And two glasses.”
Ariel’s face reflected nothing but shock. “N-no thanks. I don’t drink.”
Ernesto stepped from behind the couch. “Good, ‘cause I can’t drink anyway.”
“Because of your arm?” Ariel asked, tilting her head slightly.
Ernesto frowned. “Yeah, the medicine they have my hyped on don’t mix with alcohol.”
“What happened?”
Ernesto inhaled, looking down at his arm. The pain was constant, like a hum in the back of his head that wouldn’t release even if he took the entire bottle. There were times that Ernest would sit in his room and stare at the bottle, wondering what it would be like to dump all of the pills down his throat. Would he hurt then? Would he still wake to a life like this? No father, hardly a mother, selling drugs just to buy food for a week, bullets flying every night for absolutely no reason, putting your life in danger just to get robbed a while later? That is what he woke to every morning. And he hated it.
“I fell.” The lie slipped from between his lips so effortlessly he shocked himself. He glanced up to see Ariel absorbing it. She believed him. It hurt a little to lie to her, with her angelic presence, and made him feel like a devil. But just as quick as the idea arose, it dissipated. If he walked around with that attitude, he wouldn’t last thirty seconds on the street.
“So are you going to be on school on monday?” Ariel asked. Ernesto just looked at her for a second, absorbing her perfection, her long hair, her beautiful face. She looked out of place standing in his living room, even though she only wore a snug pink V-neck and a pair of blue jeans. There was a glow that surrounded her, like the sun shown through the open window just to present her. Her smile was rare to him, but when it appeared, he felt like a million angels just sung to him.
But there was no way he’d ever tell anyone that.
“Prolly Monday.” Ernesto said. “The doc’ll let me know tomorrow.”
She nodded again, and glanced toward the open door. She double taked when she saw several men surrounding her car. Ernesto followed her gaze and walked through the door, walking up to the guys. He spoke to them, and they slowly separated. Ariel walked out on the front porch and slowly descended.
“I guess it’s time for me to go,” Ariel said. If Ernesto didn’t know any better, he would have detected a hint of sadness in her voice.
“Alright.” Ernesto said. Ariel began to walk away. “Hey, Ariel?” She turned. Ernesto paused for a second. “What, no hug, no kiss?”
He smiled as Ariel smiled and watched her get into her car. The engine sounded up beautifully and with a quick wave, she was gone. Ernesto stood in that spot long after the car disappeared.
“Ernesto,” it was his brother Alex. “Who the hell was that?”
He looked at his brother and smiled, wrapping his good arm around his shoulder. “No one, bro.”
⇐⇒
Ernesto stayed up past his brother and sisters. He sat on the patterned chair and stared at the black screen of the television. The unopened folder sat on his lap, and his hand rested on it. He flicked the edges of the folder until the paper became dogeared. Nothing was crossing his mind, at this point it was as blank as the television he stared at.
Ernesto looked down at his arm in the sling. At the moment it didn’t hurt, but upon looking at it, Ernesto felt a pang through his heart. It wasn’t one of pain; that was something he could handle; rather, this was one of anger, this burning fire inside his chest. All directed towards Stratton.
Flashes of the night played in Ernesto’s head. First the debilitating shot through the rotator cuff, then the endless kicks, punches, even a brick, slamming down on Ernesto’s limp body. Ernesto remembered looking up into Stratton’s smiling face and hearing him saying only one thing: “You shoulda just took the gun.”
His mother cried at his feet as he lay in the hospital. That was the first sound he heard when he woke- besides the hum in his head. She was praying. Her tears burned through the sheets, down into the bed, searing Ernesto’s skin. Her sobs swelled his heart, made him feel like dirt for even thinking he could tell Stratton what to do. The five hundred dollars was never found.
Now, Ernesto’s mother is more in debt. Ernesto’s surgery to remove the bullet, to reset his bone, and the x-ray to find out he had two broken ribs, piled more and more bills on top of the bills his mother already has. Now, her three shift days will turn into four.
And it wasn’t even his fault.
Ernesto would sell but nothing of that size. But thanks to Alex, Ernesto had no choice but to tell Stratton was was to happen. And that is what got him here.
If Alex would have just stayed in a child’s place, then Ernesto would have use of his arm, have his ribs all in one piece, and their mother wouldn’t be so far in debt.
Ernesto lifted his shirt, staring at the ugly purple bruises that branched out like a autumn tree from the bandage over his ribs. He knew of the purple bruise under his eye, it was the first thing everyone saw. Sharp pains still pulsed in his shoulder, and, even though his ordeal occurred about a week ago, the bandages always remained a crimson color.
Ernesto rose from the couch, a groan escaping his throat. He hated that couch, the way it folded over whomever sat. That hate was multiplied now that every bone in his body felt like glass, brittle and painful. Now that he thought of it, he hated everything. The tiny house, the sunken couch, the fact that Ernesto works and works, but can never seem to just get out. His mother will always be in debt, no matter how many bags of “merchandise” he sells. They will always eat food so far on the brink of expiration, the store practically gives it away. How many nights, Ernesto has to take a cold shower, because mom had to strategically choose exactly what bills to pay.
As Ernesto slid down into his bed, wincing as he moved each part of his body slowly onto the bed, he found himself angry. Only because he felt like a fish swimming against a current, using all of his power to move then opening his eyes and seeing he was farther back than he was when he first began.