The Boy from the Band

I Do Believe in Your Hexagram

"Fuck off," I replied, "I'm not giving you shit, get the fuck out of my face." Brave words.

One grabbed my purse strap, but I was holding onto it. I shoved my hand in his face but this only seemed to anger him. I aimed a sharp kick in his shins and he reached out his hand and slapped me on the side of my head.

Which made me madder. I reached out with my fist and aimed it at his nose, but missed. His friend tried to punch me in the face but I ducked and his blow only glanced off the side of my head. At that point, I should have let go of my purse but the tequila I'd drunk had made me careless and I tried to return the blow but the other one landed a punch on my temple that knocked me out.

They were still hitting me when I fell and before I lost consciousness I heard footsteps. Oh no, they've got reinforcements I thought, and passed out.

I woke, smelling the medicinal odor of a hospital—god knows I was familiar enough with them. A nurse was shaking me awake, saying, "Wake up, Dacy, don't fall asleep, we need to make sure that you don't have a concussion."

I saw her anxious face, then noted I was wearing a hospital gown and my left wrist was encased in an ace bandage. "What happened?" I ask.

"You were attacked, but some men walked by and saw what was happening. Two chased your assailants but didn't catch them, the other called the police and an ambulance. You were very lucky."

"Not so lucky," I said and looked at my wrist. To make matters worse I was dizzy and wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and go to sleep.

A wave of nausea passed over me, "I'm going to be sick," I said and she put an emesis basin under my chin and I threw up tequila and the nachos I'd eaten at the bar. The bastards must have punched me in the stomach because throwing up made me hurt like hell.

Another nurse came in, followed by a tall man I didn't recognize at first. "You have a visitor," she announced, sounding rather pleased, and I recognized the tall, thin form of Robbie.

"Hey, what happened to you?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"I made the mistake of walking home alone on the wrong night. Robbie, I've lived in this neighborhood for more than six years and nothing like this has ever happened." Talking was making my head hurt. "What are you doing here?"

"They were looking for someone to notify and they got my name out of your address book. I came as soon as I could."

"So they didn't get my purse after all—good. Robbie, I'm sorry but I can't talk anymore, I feel like shit."

"That's okay, you're allowed." He kissed the top of my head, "Call me if you need anything, I'll take you home if you want." I'm touched but I won't take him up on his offer.

I watch him leave my room, feeling confused like I always do where he's concerned. Robbie has put himself into my life and I don't know why. I watch him leave then close my eyes and try to go to sleep, only to have the nurse wake me again. A CT scan revealed I had a mild concussion—what was so mild about it, my head hurts like hell, and I'm so dizzy that I'm sick to my stomach. They tell me I can go home the day after tomorrow if I show improvement, or at least if I don't get worse.

The hospital lets me go home as long as someone can look out for me. Simple, my next-door neighbor is a nice Mexican lady and she'll make sure I'm all right and give me more food than I can eat! It will be hard, but I can take care of the cat litter box myself.

I don't call Robbie for a ride home, Gina's offered and I'm accepting. She shows up in my room with her blond-haired bambino and gives me a hug. He smells of milk and baby and I adore him. He's walking now and holds both of our hands, proud that he can toddle out on his stubby legs which lasts until the orderly insists I get in the wheelchair. I put Baby on my lap and he crows as he enjoys a new kind of ride.

I wish I could have had a "baby Rick." I think Rick feels the same way but maybe it's best that it didn't happen. How could I explain to him or her why their father isn't there and he's married to another woman?

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Gina asks as we pull into the parking lot, "If you need any help..."

"Please don't fuss over me," I tell her, "If I need you, I'll call, I promise. If you can come up and help me get settled that will be fine. As soon as Maria knows I'm home she'll appear with food. I just need to be careful, I get dizzy if I move too fast. I'm going to have to call Dorothy and explain I'll be out for ten days—doctor's orders. How bad do I look?"

"Kinda bad, but it could be worse—honestly. I'll get Robbie out of his car seat, don't go up the stairs without me."

Why does she have to call him "Robbie?" When she told me what they were naming the baby, I winced, I don't hate Robbie but I don't like the reminder. Why couldn't they call him something else?

She carries him up the stairs, following anxiously behind me. I think Gina has taken what's happened to me worse than I have. I'm not blasé about it, I try not to dwell on it because what's the point? I'm not a fatalist but sometimes I think we get dealt a certain set of cards for a reason. It's what you do with the hand that counts and my parents have taught me to be strong and not let circumstances bring you down.

My lovely neighbor Maria brought me a plate of enchiladas and a plate of chili Rellenos. I heat the enchiladas in the oven and when they are bubbling hot I bring them out to the living room where I've made up a bed heaped with pillows. The pillows help stabilize me and I can see the passing of people out my window. There's no way I'll be able to sleep in my bedroom.

This incident has done something to me, little noises make me nervous that I ignored before. Still, the pain pills—and I definitely need them—help me relax and I'm able to drift off to a dreamless sleep.

When I get home I notice that I've stopped dreaming. I tell the doctor about it and he assures me that it was probably only temporary, which makes it strange that I'm dreaming about someone unlocking and opening my door. I'm sure that something is going on when I hear it shut and I'm starting to feel afraid. They haven't caught my assailants and what if they know where I live and have come to finish what they started?

Then I hear a familiar voice saying, "Wake up, sleepyhead," and I sit up too suddenly, and when I start to get dizzy Rick takes me in his arms to steady me.