23
I woke up scared.
That wasn't like me. My heart raced. Panic seized my chest, making it hard to breathe. All of this before I even opened my eyes.
When my eyes finally did blink open-when I looked across the room-I felt the heart rate slow and the panic ease. Esperanza sat in a chair concentrating on her iPhone. Her fingers danced across the letters; she was working no doubt with one of our clients. I like our business, but she loves it.
I watched her for a moment because the familiar sight was so damn comforting. Esperanza wore a white blouse under her gray business suit, hoop earrings, her blue-black hair tucked behind her ear. The window shade behind her was open. I could see that it was night.
'What client are you dealing with?' I asked.
Her eyes widened at the sound of my voice. She dropped the iPhone onto the table and rushed to my side. 'Oh my God, Myron. Oh my God…'
'What, am I dying?'
'No, why?'
'The way you rushed over. You usually move much slower.'
She started crying and kissed my cheek. Esperanza never cried.
'Oh, I must be dying.'
'Don't be a jackass,' she said, wiping the tears off her cheek. She hugged me. 'Wait, no, be a jackass. Be your wonderful jackass self.'
I looked over her shoulder. I was in your basic standard-issue hospital room. 'How long have you been sitting there?' I asked.
'Not long,' Esperanza said, still holding me. 'What do you remember?'
I thought about it. Karen and Terese being shot. The guy who killed them. Me killing him. I swallowed and braced myself. 'How is Terese?'
Esperanza stood upright and released me. 'I don't know.'
Not the answer I was expecting. 'How can you not know?'
'It's a little hard to explain. What's the last thing you remember?'
I concentrated. 'My last clear memory,' I said, 'was killing the bastard who shot Terese and Karen. Then a bunch of guys jumped on me.'
She nodded.
'I was shot too, wasn't I?'
'Yes.'
That explained the hospital.
Esperanza leaned back into my ear in and whispered, 'Okay, listen to me for a second. If that door opens, if a nurse comes in or anything, don't say anything in front of her. Do you understand?'
'No.'
'Win's orders. Just do it, okay?'
'Okay.' Then I said, 'You flew to London to be with me?'
'No.'
'What do you mean, no?'
'Trust me, okay? Just take your time. What else do you remember?'
'Nothing.'
'Nothing between the time you got shot and now?'
'Where is Terese?'
'I already told you. I don't know.'
'That makes no sense. How can you not know?'
'It's a long story.'
'How about sharing it with me?'
Esperanza looked at me with her green eyes. I didn't like what I saw there.
I tried to sit up. 'How long have I been unconscious?'
'I don't know that either.'
'Again I repeat: How can you not know?'
'For one thing, you're not in London.'
That made me pause. I looked around the hospital room as if that would give me the answer. It did. My blanket had a logo on it and the words: NEW YORK-PRESBYTERIAN MEDICAL CENTER.
This couldn't be.
'I'm in Manhattan?'
'Yes.'
'I was flown back?'
She said nothing.
'Esperanza?'
'I don't know.'
'Well, how long have I been in this hospital?'
'A few hours maybe, but I can't be sure.'
'You're not making any sense.'
'I don't quite get it either, okay? Two hours ago, I got a call that you were here.'
My brain felt fuzzy-and her explanations weren't helping. 'Two hours ago?'
'Yes.'
'And before that?'
'Before that call,' Esperanza said, 'we didn't have any idea where you were.'
'When you say 'we'-'
'Me, Win, your parents-'
'My parents?'
'Don't worry. We lied to them. Told them you were in an area of Africa with spotty phone service.'
'None of you knew where I was?'
'That's right.'
'For how long?' I asked.
She just looked at me.
'For how long, Esperanza?'
'Sixteen days.'
I just lay there. Sixteen days. I had been out for sixteen days. When I tried to remember, my heart started racing. I felt panic.
'Just let it go…'
'Myron?'
'I remember getting arrested.'
'Okay.'
'Are you telling me that was sixteen days ago?'
'Yes.'
'You contacted the British police?'
'They didn't know where you were either.'
I had a million questions, but the door opened, interrupting us. Esperanza shot me a warning glance. I stayed silent. A nurse walked in, saying, 'Well, well, you're awake.'
Before the door could swing closed, someone else pushed it open.
My dad.
Something akin to relief washed over me at the sight of this admittedly old man. He was out of breath, no doubt from running to see his son. Mom came in behind him. My mother has this way of always rushing at me, even during the most routine visit, as if I were a recently released POW. She did it again this time, knocking the
