Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 104.2: 1995, Ruiz

"She's embarrassed. She shouldn't be, though."

"Y- yeah." Oh great, I was hiccupping. Hiccupping and crying in the cafeteria of the rehab.

"Here, drink some soda. I don't want you to hiccup."

"Oka- kay..."

His hand took my other wrist, pulling my hand down gently from my face. So gentle. I loved him. I sniffled so hard, and saw he was offering me his can of diet cola. This made my lower lip poke out and I let out a tiny whimper. Then I hiccupped which made my cheeks go red.

"Aww, Ruiz," he sighed, the middle of his eyebrows peaking. He put his soda down on the table and suddenly he was hugging me. My face was pressed to his chest, his t-shirt, smelling a scent so familiar to me. His arms were around my back, pressing me so hard.

I couldn't say anything. I was devastated suddenly. Everything was collapsing inside. These words my Mama had said to me. She was embarrassed. Of me.

"I love you," I heard Ambrose say, muffled because I was so far shoved into his t-shirt. No other place I'd rather be. I never wanted to part from it, smelling this weird hospital laundry smell but also his natural smell that had no name.

I just nodded into his chest, and I hoped he knew my meaning as I hiccupped again.

In the office of his therapist, things were a bit different. Ambrose had taken me in there, with me still pressed to his side. A nurse had called us from the door of the cafeteria.

Now inside, I was in the same maroon chair as I had been last time. It was unsettling, but I was trying to calm myself down. Ambrose was trying to help, and I was trying to be okay. But his therapist could see already that there was a problem.

"What's going on?" He asked us in Spanish. I thought that was weird.

"Oh, its private," Ambrose told him. I'm glad he did.

"Okay," his therapist said in English. I gave Ambrose a confused look. Why had his therapist spoken in Spanish to us? But he answered before I could get up the courage to ask. "Ambrose asked me to talk in Spanish because he said its sometimes easier. Is that okay?"

I blinked and my eyes landed on his desk. Santiago Morales the little gold and wooden block sitting there read. Oh.

"Its okay," I managed.

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

I just nodded. If Ambrose had asked for it I wasn't about to complain. It wasn't about me. I breathed in, realizing this again. No, it was about Ambrose. Whatever he needed. That's why we were here. His feelings.

"Ambrose, do you want to begin?"

I looked over at Ambrose because his therapist had addressed him. But the look on Ambrose's face made me stop. Wait a minute. We had to give him a minute, because his eyes...

"Ambrose?" I asked. His face looked like...

"Um, yeah." Finally some words, but his eyes were wide and staring at Dr. Morales' desk. He seemed to breathe stiffly. I quickly took his hand, maybe to steady him but I could feel he was stiff.

The muted lighting in Dr. Morales' office was suddenly getting to me. It was too dark in here. I wanted to see Ambrose's face more clearly. For the first time, I heard water burbling. My head whipped around behind me, and in the corner nearest to me was a little water fountain on a low bookshelf with water going over some small rocks. Over and over.

I wanted it to stop. I looked at Ambrose again, and my other hand met on our's, holding his hand securely.

He cleared his throat, still not looking at me. This gave me a chill. Why wasn't he looking at me again? Memories of the last time...it was too familiar. I breathed in and held it, fears coming in.