Falling With Grace

Heraccented tone caressed my nerves, but agitation settled beneath my skin. “I can’t wait until then. I need to leave.” I took another step, her hand drifting away as she followed me to the door. “Who’s here with you?”

Was he on the phone?

“Mi esposo.Husband.”

“Anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“Did you tell anyone else I was here?”

“Only the doctor and my husband. He didn’t like coming home from a trip to find his side of the bed taken.”

Sweat pebbled against my skin as I hobbled to the bedroom door.

“Can the doctor be trusted?” I rested my hand on the door handle.

“Sí.Yes. He’s very good.”

I hunched over and sucked in air as if I’d raced a marathon and came in first place, my broken rib reminding me of their presence.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple days.”

“Has anyone come looking for me?”

She shook her head. “No.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, then swung the door wide open and caught the eye of an elderly man on the phone, the cord tethered to the wall.

He was tall or would have been, if the large hump on his back didn’t have him hunching over. Suspenders held up his pants, resting over his shoulders and pressing into his blue button-up dress shirt.

The brown-eyed man’s gaze met mine.”Ella está despierta.”She’s awake.

Ice-cold dread snaked down my spine as he hung up the house phone, grabbed his walking cane resting along the wall, and then looked at his wife, who stood behind me.

“Están en camino.”

My pulse filled my ears, and my breaths halted.

Who’s on the way?

Who did he call?

Miguel?

Ortiz?

My finger moved to the marking behind my ear as the man shuffled my direction. I limped kitty-corner from him towards the door, his wife nodding in acknowledgment.

“Who did you call?” My heart fluttered in a way that had my feet moving closer to the exit, the scent of fresh coffee and tortillas in the air.

The man shook his head and gave his wife a curious look.

My stomach grumbled, but sticking around to fill it would be a mistake.

Something was wrong.