Matt de la Peña - The Living

The girls were now shooting dirty looks at the man. They didn’t want to eat with Shy, and Shy didn’t want to eat with them. The math seemed simple enough. But this guy was strangely persistent.

“I’ll have someone notify you where to be,” the man said.

“God, Dad,” the blonde said, “you’re totally embarrassing yourself.” She finally managed to pull him away from Shy’s towel stand, and the three of them started toward the Ping-Pong room on the other side of the pool.

Shy watched them go, trying to figure out what had just happened. There was no way he was going to dinner with passengers. Didn’t matter how good-looking the girls were, it would be torture. Plus, it wasn’t even allowed. And where was this guy going in the middle of a cruise? Then again, Shy reminded himself, passengers could pretty much do anything they wanted if they had enough money. And the gray-haired guy made it sound like he was all buddy-buddy with the captain.

Shy glanced down at his sign-in sheet, studied the girl’s information. Addison Miller. Even her name sounded stuck-up. That’s one of the things he liked best about Carmen. Hottest female on the ship, crew or otherwise, and she acted like she didn’t have a clue.

Shy looked up at the sky where dark gray clouds were rolling in. If they eventually blocked out the sun, it would mean more people working out during his gym shift, which would mean more work for him. He scanned the pool crowd again, readying himself to do one final towel pass before he went on break. He was surprised to find Rodney lumbering down the length of the Lido Deck.

“Shy!” he called out as he rounded the Jacuzzi.

A few passengers turned to look at him.

When the guy finally made it to Shy’s towel stand he stuck a meaty forearm up on the counter and leaned over to catch his breath.

“What the hell, Rod?” Shy said.

Rodney pulled in a couple deep breaths, then stood up straight and looked Shy right in the eyes. “You need to come with me. Right now, bro.”

“Why? What happened?”

“We’ve been robbed!”

Rodney unlocked their cabin door, held it open for Shy to go in first. Their stuff was scattered all over the floor. Empty drawers hanging open and clothes strewn everywhere. Both their cots stripped and flipped. Pillows pulled from their cases. All the family photos Shy had stashed in his backpack now scattered across the desk next to Rodney’s open laptop.

“I didn’t touch anything,” Rodney said, moving across their small cabin. “Wanted you to see exactly how they left it.”

Shy scooted his pics together first, staring at the one on top—his grandma manning the griddle, patting down one of her famous tortillas. Why would anyone go through his personal shit? It didn’t make sense.

“Came back from the kitchen,” Rodney said, “and I saw our door wasn’t all the way closed. Figured you were in here sleeping or something. But then I walked inside…” Rodney waved a hand toward the mess. “Who would do this to us? Nobody’s allowed down here except crew.”

Shy spotted his passport lying under his cot. Spotted his wallet on a pair of wadded-up jeans. He reached down for them, found his C-note still tucked safely inside the billfold of his wallet. Same with his bank card and ID. He turned to Rodney. “None of my stuff’s missing.”

“Mine either,” Rodney said.

If it wasn’t a robbery, maybe it was the guy in the black suit. But why break into the cabin and go through their stuff? Why not just ask about the suicide directly, like ship security already had? Like the cops who were waiting for Shy on land when they disembarked from his first voyage?

Rodney straightened out his mattress and sat down, leaned his elbows on his knees. “I feel violated, bro.”

“Tell me about it,” Shy said, shoving his wallet and passport into his safe and locking up. Maybe he was in more trouble than he realized. What if they were looking for someone to blame for the guy jumping? What if they tried to frame him?

“It’s not like a regular job,” Rodney said. “We don’t get to go home at the end of our shift. We live here.”

Shy felt bad Rodney had to suffer, too. Just because they were roommates. He wasn’t the one who let a passenger fall, who wasn’t strong enough to hold on just a few minutes longer. Shy felt like he should back up, explain everything he knew about the suit guy to Rodney. But there wasn’t time. And he wasn’t even sure the suit guy was really to blame.

“Look,” Shy said. “After my shift at the gym, I’ll go talk to Paolo. See what I can find out.”

Rodney nodded. “I’d go myself, but I have to head back to the kitchen in twenty minutes.”

Shy glanced at his alarm clock.

Two-thirty.

Damn.

“Hey, Rod?” he said. “I know this isn’t the best timing, but is it cool if I use your computer real quick? I promised I’d Skype with my mom.”

“No problem,” Rodney said, standing up. “Need me to vacate?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Shy told him. “I appreciate it.”

He sat at the desk and turned on Rodney’s computer and waited for it to boot up—Rodney already straightening up behind him. Shy was starting to feel like a prisoner on the ship. People were spying on him. Breaking into his cabin. And there was nowhere to hide. He wiped a few beads of perspiration off his forehead and swallowed. His throat felt like it was closing up.

The screen lit up and Shy logged on to Skype and dialed his mom. As it rang, he glanced around their trashed cabin again, shaking his head. Soon as his gym shift was over he was definitely tracking down Paolo. He needed some answers.

In a few seconds his mom’s face popped onto the screen. He could tell she’d been crying.

Shy sat up and leaned toward the computer. “What is it, Ma? What happened?”

She wiped a hand down her face and took a deep breath. His mom was tough. He’d only seen her cry a couple other times in his life. It had to be bad.

“You okay?” Shy asked.

She shook her head.

“What is it? What happened?”

“It’s Miguel, honey.”

The name alone knocked the wind out of Shy. He’d never even thought of that. “What, he’s sick?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Don’t tell me it’s Romero, Ma. I can’t even hear that right now.”

His mom started crying again.

Shy pounded a fist on the desk. First his grandma. Now his little nephew? “You already took him in? You talked to a doctor?”

His mom wiped her face with a wad of tissues and breathed for a few long seconds. “We went first thing this morning,” she said in a shaky voice. “They have medicine now. The doctor told us as long as the patient starts on the meds within twenty-four hours, his chances are good.”

“They keeping him overnight?” Shy asked, thinking about expenses.

His mom nodded.

“And the medicine probably costs a lot, too, right?”

“Money’s the last thing on our minds, Shy.”

“I know.” But Shy also knew his sister didn’t have insurance. No way she could afford this on her own. Neither could his mom. “I want you to do something for me, Ma. I want you to cash that bond I won at the game. Give the money to Teresa.”

His mom was shaking her head. “We have money. Teresa’s friends have been very generous—”

“Cash the bond, Ma. I’m serious.”

“I didn’t message you for money, Shy. I wanted you to know what’s going on back home.”

“I understand that,” Shy said. “But you gotta do this for me. I love that little kid.” He felt a lump going in his throat. He’d shared a room with Miguel since the day Teresa brought him home from the hospital. They were more like brothers than anything else. “It’s the only thing I can do from way out here.”