Chapter 104.2: 1995, Ruiz
"She can't do that, Ruiz. She can't do that!"
Ambrose was looking mutinous behind one of the large cookies he'd saved from his lunch for us. A beautiful, overly soft chocolate chunk cookie. I was holding one myself, and the chunks under my fingers were slowly melting in a gooey mess, mixing with a cold sweat, but I didn't care. Because my eyes were watering.
He was saying exactly what I thought he'd say, and it was making me cry. I was sorry, but it was. I didn't want to cry in front of him, having told myself I wouldn't, but it wasn't because I was sad. Or was it? I couldn't tell. I just knew his face, his wide open mouth looking just like as I had imagined it yesterday in the kitchen when I had been on the phone with my Mama.
The cookie in my hand slowly went towards my mouth as I looked down at it, with no intention of taking a bite. My grape soda next to my arm was not even open. I'd told him exactly what was going on as soon as we'd sat down on the hard metal bench of this table in the cafeteria.
He'd known I was disturbed anyway. He always knew, somehow.
I watched him place what was left of his cookie on the table, protected by its plastic wrap. Gently, he took the wrist of the hand that was holding my hardly touched cookie. I watched him raise it just slightly, and kiss the inside of my wrist so softly and lovingly. He was staring at me expectantly, but I knew he didn't expect me to say anything else.
He'd just noticed how wet my eyes were. I could tell.
"I'm sorry, Ruiz, but I don't think you should go. I know your cousins want to see you. I know you're going to tell me that. But is it worth it?"
I already knew the answer. Sort of. But I didn't want to admit it. These words from my heart.
"I don't know if its worth it." So small.
"Its not worth it, Ruiz. Just wait 'til next Tuesday. I'll be out of this place. We can go do something fun instead. We can go to the arcade and eat some Easter candy or something. Make our own Easter. You don't need them. Hey, I know. I'll buy you a basket from CVS or something, or the grocery store. I'll get you your own Easter basket. You don't need them. I'm serious, Ruiz. Its not worth it."
"Its not about an Easter basket." Somehow with him here I was feeling vulnerable. At a loss. Feelings building up or had been built up, coming out. My breath skipped and my hand was on my face, covering up to my forehead, my whole face.
"Ruiz." So gentle. I could feel his warmth on my wrist, the pressure of his precious hand. My mouth was watering from the chocolate on my tongue, from when I'd taken the single bite of cookie in my hand.
"Yeah." I sniffled. Oh no.
"Don't cry. I don't think you should go there. I mean it."
I mean it. My Mama had struggled for the words, for what she'd really meant on the phone. Telling me... It had taken me a little bit last night to really put together what she'd meant. But Ambrose had gotten it right away, and met it with anger, disbelief.
"Why would she say that?" Small words again.
I heard his throat hesitate as he began to speak. Probably not getting what I meant out of nowhere. I didn't blame him. But he corrected himself anyway.
"Because she doesn't want you to dress like yourself in front of those kids."
"Oh- oh..." My breath hitched again.
"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.
"Um, yeah." He said again. No less settled.
"Do you want to tell her about what you told me?"
The therapist had respected my gender. My brain took quick note of this, but it didn't release any tension in me. Because what had Ambrose been telling him? It could be anything.
"Um. Yeah. Okay." With these words, Ambrose's face turned towards the door even further away from me. But I wanted him to look at me...
"Ambrose." Did I want to get his attention? I couldn't tell what that was for. Just a lost feeling dropping lower as his face went away even more. There was a slight panic in my heart at this. "Ambrose?"
"Ruiz, I don't know how to tell you this."
My breath came back all at once, causing it to hitch in my throat, making me almost choke. I wanted to ask him, 'tell me what?' but I couldn't get a word out. It was as if the breath had been part of a gathering cloudy storm in me, weighty and depressing on my chest.
He'd been normal in the cafeteria. Why did he get like this in Dr. Morales' office?
"Do you remember when- I don't know if you remember."
I nodded, even though I had no idea what he was going to say. Eager to help him. That's all I wanted. I wanted to help. This realization was like a knock to my chest. My breath...
"Do you remember when..."
"Its okay," Dr. Morales assured, in Spanish like Ambrose had wanted. I nodded with his words. It was okay. Wasn't it?
Ambrose was staring at the carpet in front of the door now, his head down. I still wanted him to look at me, with no way to communicate.
"Do you remember...in the subway?"
My mouth opened but no words came out. What time in the subway? What was he talking about?
"In the subway," he went on. "Miss Kitty. Uh- um. Do you remember how we used to hang out with Miss Kitty? How much fun we had? We went to the library and stuff. We did a lot. She always wanted to be with us. You remember how we went to the park for the fourth of July? Miss Paula came with us that time. We did fireworks. You told me you got scared because Miss Paula didn't seem very enthusiastic, and Miss Kitty didn't seem to enjoy doing fireworks with us either. You got upset."
Oh shit. Was this about me? How I'd acted? I didn't mean to. I'd been young. I was so sorry. I didn't mean to...
"Ambrose, I'm sor-" I began, but I didn't get to finish. I wanted to tell him I didn't mean it, that I'd been immature, and-
"I don't mean to make it seem like I'm blaming you. I'm really not. You thought it was all your fault. But it wasn't, Ruiz."
All the words I'd had to say were gone. There was nothing in my mouth anymore. His voice was so sad. I breathed in, remembering what had happened so soon after that time. I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder, make him look at me. I wanted to see his face so I could see what he was feeling. But there was no way to be sure, no way to know why he was telling me this now. This horribly sad thing.
"Miss Paula went into the hospital. I wanna tell you. She went into the hospital because the doctor told her to. We got the news the day before. It wasn't any emergency. You thought it was all your fault that they were sad, that we made them do fireworks with us and they were mad at us because they didn't want to. But Miss Paula told me she liked it. That was one of the last things she ever told me. So don't worry about it. She liked doing fireworks with us. She just didn't have any energy."
Oh god.
I saw Dr. Morales' hand on the desk near me with a white tissue in his hand. I hadn't even seen him move. I was so focused on the back of Ambrose's head. I nodded and took the tissue, realizing as I took it that I was crying. I sniffled and turned my own head, trying to hide it even though Ambrose wasn't looking at me.
"She said she was sorry you got upset. But she was too tired to smile. Too tired for anything, really. She was ready, but she wanted to celebrate the fourth of July and she knew it had been her time. I know you weren't there when she passed, but that's what she said. I promise."
I wasn't ready for this. Why was he springing this on me? It was too much. I was breathing hard and I tried to steady myself. Why this all of a sudden?
It was too eerily like the last time. I just wanted him to look at me. Something in me sprung out, like a clock breaking with its springs becoming undone. Oh shit. No.
My hands sprung out like the springs. Suddenly I was touching his back, grabbing his shoulders. His shoulders unknitted in my hands, and I used all my strength to turn him around. What was I doing?
"I'm sorry," I whispered, scared again, at what I did. Trembling. "I want to see your face."
He was staring at me with wide eyes, shocked eyes. Silence spread about the room, except for the burbling behind me from the fountain. I forgot we weren't alone for a second. I realized my eyes were wide with shock, too. Shock at myself. What was going on?
"Okay. I'm sorry." He looked so ashamed. So, so ashamed. Why?
"Ambrose, why are you..." What were the words to say? What was this all of a sudden? Why was he talking about this?
"I'm sorry. You were talking about your mom. I was talking about my mom...to...Dr. Morales. Before."
He was? What did this have to do with his mom?
"Okay," I said, unsure. Quiet.
"I wanted to tell you...that Miss Paula knew my mom."
"Okay." I paused. Something wasn't right. Something was off. Wait a minute. "What?" I asked, confused. That hadn't made any sense.
"Miss Paula knew my mom."
Fresh tears filled my eyes. There was no way I was comprehending what I was hearing. I couldn't put two and two together.
"She told me in the hospital. She was smiling at me, the last time I ever saw her do that. I laid my cheek on her hand so we could be face to face, and she cradled my face. She told me she knew my mom, and that she was a beautiful girl who loved me very much. But I didn't believe her. And I don't know how to take it back."
"Ambrose..." I was frozen. Completely frozen.
"She said my mom named me after some character in a book. But I can't remember what book that was. I can't remember."
He started to cry then, still looking at me, his lip being bit by his teeth, staring at me full on. It made me feel so helpless. Like there was nothing in this world that I could do to make it better. It caused a stillness in me, a strange calm. Like none of my problems ever mattered, only this sadness in him mattered. This sadness that I'd never known was there, and if he'd never been in Dr. Morales' office, I might never have known it.
I wanted to crumble, but I couldn't because he was crumbling in front of me and I had to be the pillar. Something in me knew this. I had to be his pillar. I didn't know how to be the pillar, but I had to be... I had to be. Somebody had to be strong, even if I didn't know how to be strong.
"How...did Miss Paula know your mom?" I had to ask this question. I had to say something to make him keep talking. I knew this in myself, something telling me urgently. Like if I didn't ask this now, he might never tell me. Some instinct that I wanted to quiet.
"She knew her in the 70's. My mom was a crack whore. She told me that, used those words and everything. I want to think it was easier for her to say, rather than explaining when she didn't have a lot of breath. She said they met each other, and she didn't know I was my mom's son until she looked me in the eyes. She said she'd never forget my eyes, because...because..." He coughed and tried to withdraw, shaking his head and looking at his lap.
I was about to ask him to go on, but he did anyway. He seemed to want to tell me. I wanted him to tell me.
"She said my mom was sort of a hippie kind of person. Somebody who lived on the street. That's why she couldn't take care of me. Miss Paula was upset back then, because she said she'd offered to take me at first but my mom wouldn't let her because she was gay. But Miss Paula was happy because she got me in the end. She got to look after me in the end, how heaven must be real because look at what happened. That there can't have been coincidences because this wasn't a coincidence, only a miracle. It was fate. How small the world is. She said when she knocked me against the wall asking for her drugs that time, she realized who I was because her face was in my face and she got a good look at my eyes. How she'd never forget that little baby's eyes. 'A Latino baby with those eyes', she said, her last words to me."
I was too much in shock. I didn't know where to begin. I could only listen.
"She talked about my eyes like she was in love. Still in love with that little baby. She kissed me, and I knew she wanted Miss Kitty. She sounded like she didn't have any spit in her mouth, like there were razor cotton balls in her throat. I just wanted to give her some water, but I knew she needed Miss Kitty so I got her and told her to give her some water. And after that, she was gone."
I knew the rest of that story. He'd told me way back when. We'd been in my room at my Mama's place. I'd slowly rocked him back and forth as he told me he'd seen Miss Kitty in the hospital room with Miss Paula in her arms, hugging her as if they'd have to pry Miss Paula away from her because Miss Paula had passed away in about a minute. I'd been overwhelmed then, and I was overwhelmed now. The same feelings, because they never went away.
"But I have to tell you something else, Ruiz. I lied to you."
"Oh." That was okay. What did he lie to me about? There was that strange calmness in me, as if all was right in the world even though he was telling me these things. It should have been unsettling, but it just wasn't. It was smooth, like the burbling water in the fountain behind me.
"I lied to you about Miss Kitty."
Oh.
"Okay." I was trying to be calm, trying to tell him it was alright. It was alright, even though I didn't know what was going on. He was staring down at his lap still, and I took his hand again. He didn't look at me, and that was okay.
"That time in the subway."
Oh...I knew what he meant now. I knew. I closed my eyes and breathed in a long breath. Right, that time. He'd asked me to come to Miss Paula's house. Miss Kitty's house then, because it was right after Miss Paula had passed. He'd wanted me to come sort through Miss Paula's things, and I'd thought it was too soon. He'd sounded really upset on the phone, so I'd tried to go over there quickly. But as soon as I got to the subway station near their place, Ambrose had been there. He'd met me there, and he'd broke down and told me not to go to their place. Don't go to their place.
"I told you in the subway that Miss Kitty's brother woke me up. Told me to get you. I was lying. Miss Kitty... Miss Kitty hadn't spoken to her brother in a long time. A long, long time. I was using an excuse."
"Okay."
"I was using an excuse, because..." He looked up at the ceiling fan. His eyes went wide, and he quickly looked back at his lap. I'd felt that in his hand, that sudden shock. What was he- "Ruiz, I found her hanging from her ceiling fan that morning. I did. Her brother didn't find her. I did. There was nobody else...who...who could have. I was the only one there."
Oh, shit. Oh, shit...okay...
"I found her, and I called you... I wanted you to help me...anybody. But I realized right after I called you that had been a mistake. That you couldn't handle something like that. So I called the cops. And I ran outside the house because I needed to find you before you got there. I had to stop you. Shit, I'm so sorry. I'm an asshole, I'm...I- I'm..."
Oh god no. No, Ambrose... "No, you're not. You're not. Oh, god. Ohh...oh god..." There were no other words. He was crying so hard, rocking back and forth.
I pressed my hands on him, pulled him to me. I was up from my chair, not caring about anything but him. I pulled him, made him stand with me. I hugged him, wouldn't let him go. Protecting him, like he'd tried to protect me. I pressed my face into his shoulder and I felt his cheek press against my head, his hot tears leaking onto my scalp, streaking towards my face.
"Its okay," I muffled into his t-shirt. "Its okay now."
"Yeah. Y-yeah..."
"Its okay."
"Okay."
"That was a long time ago. They're together now."
"Ye- Yeah."
"I know they're together now."
I felt him nod, and he was so hot. All the emotions in his body, rushing to his face. All these long kept emotions that he hadn't told anybody. He'd acted like he was okay after that time in the subway, but I'd often wondered if he really was. I knew he wasn't, but he wouldn't tell me. Now I definitely knew he wasn't, and he was telling me. Showing me. Finally.
"If there's anything else you wanna tell me, you can tell me. I'll listen. You can tell me anything." I told him this so sincerely. Right next to his ear, so there was no way he couldn't know it.
But with a great, fresh breeze in my heart, I felt him shaking his head. "What?" I asked, squeezing him.
"I started using again because I found Miss Kitty, because I couldn't take it. But that's it. There's nothing else. I promise there's nothing else."
I nodded, kissing his cheek and burrowing back into his shoulder. All I could think about was that I wished he'd told me sooner.
I realized soon after we'd said good-bye and kissed, when I was in the car with Miss Cha Cha in quiet reflection, that I knew I wouldn't have been mature enough to handle this information any sooner. That he'd been protecting me, after everything. How he'd told me he'd been protecting me in the therapist's office, and all I had to do was listen. How he'd been hiding from me until I was ready. And instead of breaking down about it in the car, I just got the strange calm feeling that I'd had in the office. It was telling me how all was right in the world, not because he had no more lies, but because he finally trusted me enough to tell the truth.