Falling With Grace

Javier dragged me into the study and shoved me into the chair. A sharp, shooting pain surged through my forearm and to my fingertips as it struck the wooden armrest, hitting my funny bone.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Don’t move, Grace. Elias wants you looked at.” His grip fell from my sore scalp.

Dr. Navarro approached, and I stole a quick glance out the double doors. My hands braced on the armrests, legs tensed.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to see how you’re healing.”

“Don’t forget her chin. She cut it this morning.” Javier dragged a chair in front of the French doors and sat with his elbows on his knees.

“I can see that.” He plopped in the seat across from me and dug into his bag at his side. “You’re a bit of a mess. Aren’t you?”

I kept my lips sealed, my heart thumping against my sternum like an army desperate for escape.

He moved about his examination, and I maintained a death grip on the armrests, my gaze fixed on a ceremonial dress hung behind the desk.

The intricate beadwork must have taken someone weeks to complete.

“Your shoulder is healing nicely. I wouldn’t bother binding it again.” He glanced at Javier. “Her chin is fine. Only a minor cut. It should heal without sutures. But we should remove these old stitches now. They aren’t doing you much good anymore.”

He reached into his bag, dotted my chin with an ointment, placed a small bandage over the wound, and then withdrew each thread from my scalp with medical tweezers and scissors.

When his hands withdrew, I leaped from my chair and positioned myself next to Javier, who blocked the door. “I’d like to leave now.”

My toes turned white as I dug them into the hardflooring.

He exhaled through his nose, stood, and then opened the door as he dragged the chair away.

The weight on my chest eased as I crossed the threshold. Liberation accompanied my hurried steps down the hallway until a small whine emanated from the space to the right. My feet halted, my movements frozen as another whimper struck me.

“Rosa?” Rosa’s forlorn frame hunched on the couch, staring beyond the window overlooking the valley below as though she were drugged, her hand grasping a photograph in her lap.”What’s wrong?”

Approaching with a tentative step, I gently touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?” I glanced behind me.

No one followed.

I sat beside her, her floral perfume a comforting scent.

A smile formed on her wrinkled face, her grip causing the photograph to shake.

“We were childhood friends.” Her quiet voice broke through the silence, cutting the space between us with sadness.

“Who was?”

“Fulgencio.”

“Where is he now?”

“He died after our fortieth anniversary.” Her gaze lowered to the photograph of two boys in black and white, each holding a small hand-held shovel, their expressions frozen in an empty stare.

Had Elias given her something to sedate her?

“I’m so sorry, Rosa.” I touched the photograph as a lightning bolt rippled across my lower abdomen. Hunching over, I braced my arm against the pain.

Not right now…

“May I?”