Stranger Danger (3 page)

“You made a big mistake, little girl,” the boy who’d
first spoken said.
 
He reached for her
wrist and locked his grasp around it so tight it had hurt.
 
Another of the boys had stroked her breasts
through the tight t-shirt.
 
She had tried
to get away.
 
No one had seemed to hear
her struggles or cries for help but then, she had realized, twenty-five
thousand people were crammed into the stadium, all of them adding to the
deafening roar of noise.

“
Basta
!”

Sara had turned to see who spoke.
 
He looked older than the others, older than
her.
 
He carried himself like a man, not
a high school kid.
 
He had rattled off a
long tirade of Spanish and although she understood a little, he’d spoken too
fast for her to follow.
 
After he
finished, though, he’d glared at the kids who surrounded her.
 
“
Vamos
,”
he’d said to the wolf-faced boy and they’d all gone.

“I’m Santiago,” the young man had said.
 
He’d held out his left hand to her and
displayed a knife, sharp and lethal.
 
“Don’t worry.
 
I had your back.”

Then or now, she’d never doubted he meant to use it
if necessary. From that night, they’d been friends, then more.
 
They’d remained inseparable for the rest of
high school.
 
Her family moved and she’d
attended Garfield her last two years.
 
Her junior year had been Santiago’s senior one.
 
They’d been together, deep and close. They’d
even stayed together after he graduated…until he’d shattered her heart.
 
Their break-up had splintered her heart into
pieces and changed her world forever.
 
I can’t think about that part, not now
.
 
Aloud, she said, “I remember and I do trust
you, Santiago, but I don’t understand any of this.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her.
 
Something in his eyes was so vulnerable, she
believed him. “But I can’t tell you the details.
 
If I tell you, I put you at risk more than
you already are.”

All of a sudden, she understood. “It’s M13 after
you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t ask, Sarita, please don’t.”

His expression darkened and she noticed, despite his
sleep, how haggard he remained.
 
He’d
shaved, though. Fear shadowed his eyes and that scared her, because Santiago
had feared nothing – then.
 
“If you stay,
you’re going to have to tell me sooner or later,” she said. “But I won’t ask,
not tonight.
 
I’ll give you that.
 
Are you hungry?”

He still held her hands in his, but he let go and
offered her a tiny grin. Then he reached for a white T-shirt and pulled it over
his bare chest. “
Si
, I’m
starved.
 
I haven’t eaten for two and a
half days, I think. Tell me you’re making tamales or at least burritos
tipicos?”

No one else she knew except Santiago would tease
when his life was endangered.
 
“No,
hamburgers and frozen fries, but I did buy some beer.
 
Do you want one?”

Santiago grinned.
“
Que bueno
!
I hope its Corona.”

“It is,” she said. “I remembered. It’s cold,
too.
 
I bought it chilled.”

Sara toted the bags the few steps to the kitchen
area.
 
She unpacked them on the counter
and opened him a beer. “
Aqu
í
Tiene
!”

“
Gracias, la muñequita
.”
 
He pulled out a chair, turned it around, and then sat backwards.
 
She watched as he lifted the bottle to his
lips and drank with obvious pleasure. A thought struck her and she spoke it.
“You’re legal, now.”

He paused with the bottle in hand. “What?”

She laughed a little. “It’s the first time I’ve seen
you drink when you’re legal.
 
You, uh, we
were underage before.”

“
Salud
!”
 
He toasted her with a Latin shrug and drank a
long swig.

Within minutes, she had the frozen fries toasting in
the oven and three thick hamburgers sizzling in a skillet.
 
Sara sliced a tomato, then an onion.
 
She seasoned the meat and flipped it over.
 
They didn’t talk much as she focused on
cooking and he finished the beer. For the first time since his arrival, Sara
felt very self-conscious and wonder what he thought.
 
He looked almost the same to her eyes, but her
appearance had changed or so she thought.
 
Did she look better or worse? Whatever had propelled him to seek
sanctuary in her apartment and the looming danger from M13 concerned her.
 
He has
to tell me, all of it, no matter how bad.
 
I have to know.

She’d given her word, though, not to bring it up
tonight so she didn’t.
 
Instead, she
willed herself to relax and pretend Santiago had come for a social visit.
 
As she sat down across from him after
delivering their plates to the table, Sara gazed at him.
 
A rush of old affection surged as she admitted
his presence made her glad.
 
She wished
he’d come sooner and without any unknown circumstances or tension.
 
“So I guess I can’t ask what you’ve been
doing,” she said, without heat or snark.

“No.” He spread mustard across the top half of a bun
and added a dollop of ketchup.
 
“Well,
you can’t ask about the two and a half years, anyway.”

Sara put an onion slice and tomato on her burger,
then handed him the veggie plate. “I thought you’d been here six months.”

“I have,” he said. “But what I’ve been doing, I’ve
done longer than that.”
 
Santiago bowed
his head and until he clasped his hands, she didn’t realize he meant to
pray.
 
The familiar words of the Catholic
blessing came from his mouth and after the first few words, she joined in.
“Bless us, o, Lord, and these Thy gifts which we’re about to receive through
the bounty of Christ, our Lord, amen.”

“Amen,” she echoed. “Do you still go to church?”

Mouth full, he shook his head. “No, not for a long
time, but considering the situation, a little prayer seemed right.
 
Do you?”

She didn’t and hadn’t more than a few times since
she’d married.
 
Erik had been Baptist and
hadn’t been fond of what he liked to call her Popish rites. “I don’t, no.
 
Sometimes I think about it and almost go, but
then I talk myself out of it.”

“Maybe when this is all settled, we should go to
Mass, together, for old times’ sake.”

Santiago’s dark eyes met hers, serious and
somber.
 
He means it, she thought, and
decided she liked the idea. “We should. It wouldn’t be like St. Alphonsus, but
I’d like that, very much.”

“Would you,
la
muñequita
?” Santiago put down his half-eaten burger.

Without understanding why, she answered in his first
tongue. “
Si
, Santiago,” she told him,
then
added, in English, “I’m glad you’re here, no
matter why you came. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed you until now.”

“Oh,
carino
.”
 
His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper,
but Sara heard him plainly. Santiago lowered his gaze and picked up the
hamburger.
 
He didn’t speak again for a
few minutes,
then
said, his tone too casual, “So, tell
me about you.
 
You have the florist shop
but what else?”

Was she supposed to condense her history from the
time their relationship ended to yesterday? Sara swallowed a bite,
then
cleared her throat. “Posies and Pretties
is
about all I’ve got,” she said.

“How long have you owned it?”

“Almost seven years.”
 
Seven years, she thought, long and lonely.
 
If she didn’t have the shop where she could
occupy her time and spend her days around bright, beautiful blossoms, she
would’ve given up long before now. “I bought it after Erik died and I moved to
Bentonville.”

Sara hated talking about her husband’s death.
 
She didn’t like to talk about Erik,
either.
 
He’d been a major mistake in her
life, something she’d known long before he died.
 
There were days when she thought coming to
Arkansas had been a wrong move, too.
 
She
sighed and noticed Santiago’s intent gaze.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” he said. “I know
it’s been a while but Mama told me when it happened.
 
I thought about writing or calling, but I
didn’t know what to say.”

She had the same problem – now. After a few moments
of searching for the right words, she spoke truth. “I wish you had,” Sara told
him. “It was a rough time for me.”

He caught her hand with his. “I figured you needed
time to mourn,
la muñequita
.”

If she could tell the truth to anyone, it would be
to him. Once they’d shared everything and had a code for it, SOS.
 
It’d stood for ‘saving our souls’.
 
Maybe I
should share.
 
If I do, maybe he will
.
“It wasn’t like that, Santiago.”

His eyes darkened. “Meaning what?”

“I had more guilt than grief.” There.
 
She’d said it aloud and the sky hadn’t
fallen.
 
Demons hadn’t risen from hell to
drag her down into the fires. “Our marriage wasn’t a good one, Santiago.”

One eyebrow lifted in inquiry. “No?”

“No.” Sara said the word with all the dignity she
could muster.
 
It’d taken a long time to
acknowledge the truth, and she had balked at sharing it with anyone besides her
mother and one friend.
 
Everyone else
believed she’d been a grieving widow, loyal to her husband’s memory when
nothing could be more removed from reality. “Marrying Erik was the biggest
mistake I’ve ever made.
 
I’m sorry he
died, especially the way that he did, but I shouldn’t have married him.”

When told the same thing, her mother had argued and
when Sara wouldn’t budge, suggested counseling.
 
Her best friend had listened but shook her head, then told her they’d
been the perfect couple.
 
Santiago
listened and nodded. “Shit happens,” he said, his words basic but somehow
eloquent. “And then you move on, get away from the stink and mess.
 
Why didn’t you come home afterward? Why stay
in Arkansas?”

Because
of you
.
 
She’d considered it, but balked at seeing
Santiago again.
 
Although their
relationship had ended, he’d urged her not to leave and they’d quarreled over
her decision to go to college at the University of Arkansas.
 
Their parting words were both heated and
bitter.
 
If she went back, Sara had known
she’d have to face him someday and if he rejected her, she couldn’t have faced
it.
 
But here he was, back in her life,
and the connection wasn’t broken.
 
She’d
die before she would admit it, though.

“It’s complicated.
 
There’s not much for me in East LA now and the cost of living is
tremendous.
 
I’ve come to like autumn and
some other things about Arkansas.”

His faint smile was sad. “And you didn’t want anyone
to know you messed up.
 
I understand more
than you might think.”

Sara frowned. “You haven’t made any mistakes on the
scale of mine.”

“No,” he said in a soft voice. “Mine was much
bigger.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“I’m not up on any gossip from California, so I don’t have a clue.
 
What happened?”

Santiago took a bite of his hamburger and sighed.
“It’s a long story and I’m hungry.
 
Let’s
eat before it gets cold and I’ll tell you how I fucked up later.
 
Deal?”

“All right, deal.” Sara noticed how his eyes
narrowed and the way his shoulders tightened as he tensed.
 
Whatever had happened to him, he’d been
through hell and it wasn’t over yet.
 
“I’m sorry I brought up bad memories, Santiago.
 
I’ll tell you about Erik, too, to be fair.”

He nodded and held up the hamburger. “This is good,
Sara. “

She swallowed a bite of hers with effort. “Thanks.
There’s another one for you, if you want it.”