Wrong Thing (11 page)

It was cold, and the car's engine died the first couple of times the Kid started it. When it caught and stayed alive, he sat and let it warm up for a minute. He could hear Vanjii shivering.

He had never been sick, so he didn't know any hospitals. He asked Vanjii, and she told him to take her to St. Vincent's. He'd heard of it. People called it St. Victim's. As he drove, he asked Vanjii how she was doing. She didn't answer, just kept taking these shallow, wheezing breaths.

He parked the car and helped her to the emergency room. She told the receptionist what was wrong. The receptionist asked if she'd been treated there before, and Vanjii said yes. The receptionist punched her name into the computer. “Is your insurance still with Cigna?” she said.

That insurance had been provided by one of Vanjii's past employers, and had long since lapsed, but Vanjii didn't feel the need to say so. “Yeah.”

The receptionist handed her some forms and told her to fill them out.

In her state, it took Vanjii more than ten minutes to complete the forms. When she handed them back to the receptionist, she was told to sit down and wait to be called. There were rows of chairs in the reception area. The Kid sat down. Vanjii curled up on the seats beside him and rested her head in his lap. She closed her eyes. He stroked her hair.

Vanjii's breathing got more painful. The Kid watched her, and noticed that, between each spasmodic inhalation and explosive exhalation, there seemed to be a moment when she wasn't hurting. The Kid remembered something he'd read somewhere about breathing.

“Hey,” he murmured to her. “I thought of something. If it's hurting you to breathe, try holding it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you try to wait a little bit before you breathe out . . . I think you breathe in, then hold it a little, then breathe out.”

She tried it and found that it helped. It hurt to breathe in, and hurt almost as much to breathe out again. But the time in between didn't hurt at all. Doing that made her breath slow down a little, so that all the pain lessened. She closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against the Kid's thigh. She could smell laundry soap from his jeans. The hand he stroked her hair with didn't smell of anything, it was just warm.

A nurse called her. “Evangelina?”

She sat up. “Yeah.”

“Follow me.”

Vanjii looked at the Kid. “Can my friend come with?”

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

“I'll wait here,” the Kid told Vanjii.

She was gone for more than an hour. He wished he had something to read. There was a TV set in the waiting area, but it wasn't showing any programs. What it showed was videos of different diseases, to scare people into buying insurance. There were so many things that could kill you, the Kid wondered that anyone was still alive. He found himself developing psychosomatic symptoms of every ailment he saw on the screen.

Three teenage kids, a boy and two girls, were sitting across from him. The Kid listened to their conversation, and realized that they had a relative who was very ill. They cried and smiled at each other. They obviously hadn't met before. “You know I'm your cousin, right?” one girl said to the other. The Kid felt envious of them. He wanted to sit with them, be part of it.

A man in his forties appeared, and said something to them. The Kid gleaned that he was the husband of the sick woman, but couldn't tell whether the news was good or bad. They all left together.

A nurse told the Kid he could see Vanjii now. He found her sitting on the edge of a gurney, with a thermometer sticking out of her mouth. She looked comical, and he knew that she must be feeling better; he could tell that she had lost her fear and was getting her attitude back.

“How're you doing?” he said.

“I'm okay.”

“Did they tell you what's wrong with you?”

“Yeah. I've got bronchitis and pleurisy.”

“Shit. What can they do about it?”

“They gave me some drugs. And they gave me a prescription.”

“You don't have to stay in the hospital?”

“No. Anyway, I want to get out of here before they realize my insurance ain't for real.”

They left the hospital, the Kid with an arm around Vanjii's shoulders. “What was it made you get sick?”

“Don't know,” she said. “I've always been kind of weak in the lungs.” She grinned at him. “But it ain't contagious.”

“I wasn't worried about that.” But he had been.

It was around ten o'clock. He drove to a supermarket that had a pharmacy, and she filled the prescription. The Kid paid for it, and she thanked him and didn't argue. In the parking lot, they sat in his car and he looked at her and said, “What do you want to do now?”

“I need to sleep. I have to work tomorrow.”

“The shape you're in, you should take the day off. Call in sick.”

“I can't afford to lose a day's pay.”

“Well, I can take you home . . . or do you want to stay at my house tonight?”

He'd felt nervous about asking, but she wasn't fazed. “Yeah, that'd be cool.”

Miguel wasn't home. The Kid and Vanjii sat in the kitchen and drank green tea.

“You know something?” Vanjii said. “You are fucking cool.” The Kid smiled. “How come?”

“You only just met me, and you take me to the hospital and sit there forever waiting for me . . . That's so cool.”

“Maybe I just like hospitals,” the Kid said, and they both laughed. The Kid moved his chair closer to hers and kissed her.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I know you like me . . . but do you
like me
like me? Like, I know you think I'm cute and stuff, but would you want to hang out with me a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause I really like you,” she said. “And you don't have to say stuff just to get in bed with me, because I want to do that anyway. But I just want to know if you like me.”

“Yeah.”

They went to the Kid's bedroom. He turned on a lamp, and Vanjii looked around. The walls were white, and almost bare. There was a mirror, two photos of lowriders, and a painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe, done by a friend in prison. There were shelves of books, a stereo, piles of CDs, and a double bed.

The Kid was standing behind her. He put his arms around her waist, and she leaned back against him. They stayed like that for a moment, then she turned around and kissed him quickly. “Can we go to sleep?” she said. “I'm so tired.”

The Kid went to the bathroom. When he came back, Vanjii was getting in bed. He saw that she was wearing her T-shirt and panties. He didn't know if that meant he shouldn't be naked, so he stripped to his boxer shorts and got in the bed. “Should I turn the light off?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Do you need me to set the alarm?”

“Well . . . I gotta work at noon.”

He turned off the lamp. “I'll wake up way before then.”

They snuggled together, kissed a little. The Kid began kissing Vanjii's neck, pressing himself against her. Her breathing got heavy, then she laughed and hunched her shoulders to stop him. “Okay, knock it off. You're getting me all hot.”

“Good. I'm sure trying.”

“Yeah, but I still don't feel so good. I need to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“I know that sounds lame.”

“No, it doesn't.”

She kissed him. “Plenty of time, huh?”

“Yeah.”

She fell asleep, with one of the Kid's arms around her. He stayed awake for a while, listened to her breathing as she slept, listened to his own, and at some point he slept too.

He woke just before eight in the morning. Vanjii was still asleep and didn't look like waking up anytime soon. The Kid tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't, even though he still felt tired. He lay on his side and watched Vanjii sleep. Eventually, he eased himself out of bed and went to the kitchen. He was making coffee when Miguel came in.

“Hey,” said the Kid. “Did you stay at Maria's?”

“I did indeed,” Miguel said. He looked at the Kid's underwear. “You having problems getting your ass fully dressed this morning?”

“I got company . . . ”

“I can guess who.”

“Yeah. But I slept like this.”

“You didn't get naked? You're a disappointment, bro. If you ain't got a dirty story for me, pour me some coffee instead.”

The Kid obliged, and told him what had happened the day before. “Damn,” said Miguel. “So she's in your bed right now?”

“Yeah. Keep your voice down. She might get up and hear you.”

They sat together at the table and drank the coffee. “So, you figured out what you're gonna do next?” Miguel said.

“I ain't had time.”

“I know who you wanna do next.”

“You got that right.”

“Think you're gonna?”

“Yeah. She said so. I just don't know when. Have you decided what you're gonna do?”

“Today, my brother, I'm going over to the
New Mexican
to ask my old boss if he got a job for me.”

“Think he will?”

“Yeah, he'll make one for me. He's a good guy. And, hell, I'm good at selling shit.”

When the Kid had finished his coffee, he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Then he went to his bedroom.

Vanjii was still asleep. The Kid took off his shorts. She stirred a little as he got in the bed. She was lying on her side. He turned her on her back and she didn't resist. He tried to kiss her mouth, but she said, “My breath!” and turned her head away. He kissed her face and neck, and she put her arms around him. He felt her small tits through her T-shirt, then pulled the shirt up and licked the brown nipples. He sucked on one of them, biting it a little, and she liked it. He moved down, kissing her stomach, licking her navel. He pulled down the top of her panties and nuzzled her pubes. She lifted her hips as he pulled the panties down and off. She smiled as he pushed her legs apart and put his face between them.

It took her a long time to come, but the Kid didn't mind. He liked doing it to her, even though it took so long that his tongue began to ache. He stayed there for a while after she'd come, softly kissing the lips of her cunt. Then he turned her over and kissed her ass, slipping his tongue between the cheeks. She moaned and pushed back against him. “You like me fucking your face?” she said.

The Kid murmured something and probed deeper with his tongue. He reached under and stuck a finger in her cunt, fingering her while he licked her ass, and she came again, harder this time. He would have gone on licking, but she reached for him and pulled him up to lie beside her.

“That was cool,” she said, and the Kid laughed.

“What's funny?” she said.

“You.”

“How come?”

“I don't know. You just are.”

They lay cuddled together, on their sides, her back to him. She could feel how hard he was. “You got a condom?” she asked, pressing her ass into him.

“No. I think my roommate might. I'll ask him.” But, a second or two later, he moved his body a little bit lower, and his cock slid into her cunt.

“Don't,” she said, but as she said it she reached back, grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper into her.

“Want me to stop?” he said.

“You should stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

“. . . No.”

He held her by the hips and fucked her hard. “Don't come in me,” she moaned.

“I won't.”

He pulled out of her and came all over her ass and lower back. She continued to moan, more quietly now, as he rubbed the thick come into her skin and into her asscrack. Then he put his arms around her and held her close, kissing her ear and cheek.

“Did you like that?” she said.

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry I didn't make you come.”