“Let’s not play this game, all right? You and I both know that you’ll hit me again. But I’m not here for starring in my own battered wife movie of the week. I didn’t press charges before, but that doesn’t mean I won’t if you try something else. So leave me alone. Don’t show up out of the blue again when I’m at the grocery store. Don’t come by my work or my home. Stay away from me, and we can leave the past in the past.”
“Or what, you’ll sic that policia boyfriend on me?”
“No. He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m more than capable of going to the police station on my own. Now let my cart go.” He stared hard at Santos, refusing to back down. Finally, Santos let go, but not before shoving the cart so forcefully to the side that it slammed into the shelf, knocking a box of oatmeal into the basket.
“Whatever. I don’t want your ass after you let somebody else in there anyway.” He left, strolling down the aisle the way Miguel had come.
His heart pounding from fear and adrenaline, Miguel stood there for several seconds before he sagged, resting his forearms on the cart handle. It was over, Santos was gone. Miguel forced himself to straighten and tried to look at his shopping list again, but all he was doing was staring at ink without comprehending it as words.
With a frustrated curse, he pushed the cart forward. But it wasn’t to continue his shopping. He went to the register to check out. He hadn’t picked up even half of what he’d come for, but he needed to get out of there. Miguel kept his head down, barely returning the cashier’s friendly chatter as he paid.
Outside, his hands shook as he put his bagged groceries in the car. The car that he was so proud of. The car that he paid for by working. Working because he enjoyed it and he was doing what he’d always wanted to do. This car wasn’t given to him because of what he did in the bedroom. Tears tried to rise up but Miguel furiously held them back. He hurried around to get into the driver’s seat and drove home, hyper focused on the road because he needed something to do to hold back the tears and block out the encounter with Santos.
But once he was home and the food put away, the tears couldn’t be stopped. Emotion—fear, anger, shame, and regret—clogged his throat. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, his shoulders slumped as he cried. Santos was right. He had enjoyed being taken care of. And he’d fallen so easily into letting Hector help him. Maybe this whole independence thing wasn’t who he was. Maybe Just Miguel was just a phase, and he’d be back with Santos or someone else like him if things got too tough to do on his own.
No. Miguel shook those thoughts off and wiped the tears away with the back of his fist. That part of his life was over. He’d seen Santos and rejected him without the slightest urge to take the easy road and go back to him. He was happy with his life. He liked who he’d become. He hadn’t killed that goddamn cockroach by himself just to turn around and hand over his independence to another man. Just Miguel was still on.
Still shaky, but feeling proud of himself, Miguel wanted to celebrate. He took his phone out of his pocket and started to call Leon so he could scream to his friend about what a badass he’d been telling Santos off. But then he admitted to himself that the person he wanted to hear praise from was Hector.
He thumbed back on his phone a few times until he reached Hector’s contact button. The phone rang several times after he hit send. If Hector didn’t pick up after the next ring, it was going to roll to voice mail. Miguel was disappointed, he really wanted to share what happened with He—
“Hello?”
“Hector! You’re not going to believe what happened.”
“What? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. But I ran into Santos at the grocery store today.”
“Santos? I’ll be right there.”
“No! No. Nothing bad happened. He had some stupid crap to say and tried to get back with me. But I shot him down. I wasn’t even afraid of him.” He laughed. “Okay, maybe I was a little afraid. But still. Can you believe I did that?”
“That’s good to hear, Miguel. Listen. Can I call you back later? I’m in the middle of dinner.”
“Yeah, I guess I don’t want to hear you chewing in my ear,” he agreed with a laugh. But when Hector didn’t laugh back, it clicked. Hector wasn’t eating alone. That was why he didn’t want to talk. His happy smile faded. Hot embarrassment burned his face while icy disappointment froze his chest. “You’re on a date. I’m sorry I interrupted you. Talk to you later.”
Feeling stupid, he hung up, not even waiting for Hector to return his goodbye. He put the phone down on his little kitchen table, stepping away from it like the thing was going to jump up and bite him. What did he expect? He’d so much as told Hector he needed to get out there and date so he could figure out what he really wanted. So why was he surprised when that was exactly what he’d done?
***
Hector looked down at his cell when the call with Miguel abruptly ended. He was tempted to call him back, but Miguel had said he was fine. Hector put his phone away and looked at Alvin, his dining companion.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I’m guessing that was the ex we’ve been talking about?”
“How’d you know?”
“Because you looked like you were about to get up and charge out of here to get to him.”
Hector had to laugh. That was exactly how he’d felt.
“Did he say or sound like he needed you?”
Hector shook his head. “No.”
“Then you did the right thing by not going to him.”