Rafael Yglesias - Fearless

Brillstein shook his head firmly. “He would have been killed instantly.”

At that Carla had to cry. She covered up and let go. Only the sad fact of her loss was in her heart — no pain. She felt something soft brush against her cheek. Brillstein was offering tissues. She had just finished using them when Manny came in. He was carrying a white bag with Burger King written on it.

“She asked me to bring food,” he explained defensively to Brillstein instead of saying hello.

“Give it to me,” she said.

“At least she’s talking to me,” Manny commented to Brillstein as he passed him to give Carla the bag.

Carla was annoyed by what Manny had brought. He knew that she didn’t like fast-food crap. Even wrapped in foil inside the paper bag the hamburger’s smell was nauseating. She took out the French fries and the Pepsi.

“Here,” she held the bag with the hamburger still inside to Manny. “You can throw this out.”

“Throw it out yourself,” Manny said. He leaned back against the wall underneath the heart-patient poster and slid down onto his haunches.

“I’ll take it,” Brillstein said, obviously nervous that they were going to get ugly. He grabbed the Burger King bag. “I’ll check on what’s happening and come back. We have to talk more about the seat belt and everything,” he added in a solemn tone.

“What?” Manny said to the lawyer as he left. Brillstein didn’t respond. Manny said it again to Carla after the lawyer had gone. “What?”

Carla ate a french fry. It was hot and salty — she liked it. “Thank you,” she said about the food. She took a sip of the Pepsi.

“What the fuck is going on?” He said this hopelessly, sliding down even farther onto his heels. He put his hands in his jacket too. He had made himself into a ball, all round, hiding any part that could be wounded. “How did you get into this accident? What are you doing to yourself?”

She told him, just as she had told Brillstein, only this time she had no tears, no unhappiness about it. Manny stayed in his crouch while listening, his hands hidden, his head down. He peered out at her from under the hood of his dull black hair. He was like a cornered animal deciding whether to believe the voice coaxing him to come out from his hiding place.

At first Manny said nothing when she was done. He looked away from her and down at the floor. When Manny did talk he was hoarse. “He crashed the car to prove that to you?”

“I was out of my mind,” she said.

“And now?”

“And now…” she ate another french fry. She could feel the grains of salt, there was so much of it. She sipped the sweet soda. “And now I’m not,” she said at last.

Carla didn’t get to see Max. Brillstein told her that the doctors had decided to let Max’s skull be, at least for now. They were optimistic, despite his high fever. He was still in intensive care and couldn’t be visited.

“Is his wife here?” Carla asked.

Brillstein said she was; and added that she had asked him to make sure she didn’t meet Carla.

“Why’s that?” Manny said. “She thinks it’s Carly’s fault?”

Brillstein didn’t look Manny in the eye. “No, no, no, no,” he said so fast the nos were hummed. “She’s upset and frightened — she wants to be alone. She doesn’t want to see anybody.”

Carla knew from the lawyer’s manner that Max’s wife must have told him about Max’s crazy avowal of love.

She hates me, Carla thought, and understood.

“Let’s go home,” she said to Manny. She felt tired all of a sudden. Although her body didn’t hurt, she sensed that it would soon.

“One thing,” Brillstein said. He cleared his throat and looked down. He had put the flats of his hands together, the fingertips prayerfully touching his mouth. After a moment of communion he raised his eyes to look at her decisively. He parted his hands. “Don’t talk about — you know, what we discussed — about your worries in terms of the accident. Don’t talk about any of that with anyone else. Just for the moment. Talking with your priest is all right. But not with friends. Just for the next few days. I need to think about it.”

“It’ll hurt the case,” Manny said in a grave voice. “We won’t talk about it.”

Carla had expected this. She was on her feet, ready to go. She sipped the last of her Pepsi. The back of her neck felt loose and tired. She had to get home and lie down. She wanted to see her mother. She wanted to apologize for yelling yesterday when she was cleaning up Bubble’s room.

“I’d better get you home,” Manny said. He took her elbow.

“Wait,” she said and gathered herself. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to hear any speeches. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care what happens. I’m telling the truth. To anyone I feel like.”

For a moment Brillstein was eager to answer. His eyes opened as wide as they could. They were still small but they sparkled. He even went so far as to part his lips to talk — but then he squeezed them together, rolled them between his teeth, and made his mouth lipless.

Manny backed a step away from Carla. He shifted to face her completely. He had his arms low and out at his sides, setting the weight of his thick body onto his thighs, like a sumo wrestler ready to absorb a blow. “Are you crazy, woman?”

“No, Manny.” Carla took a breath and it became a yawn. She was so tired. “I’m not fighting you about it. I’m not fighting with anybody. But nothing will change my mind.”

“Don’t worry,” Brillstein said anxiously to Manny. He leaned forward and touched Manny’s left arm gingerly, careful as he tried to soothe the beast. “I don’t think it matters. Let me work with it for a few days.”

“No!” Manny shouted. Brillstein blanched. His hands went up immediately as if Manny were pointing a gun at him. Manny stamped his right foot. It had never occurred to Carla before, but her husband resembled a bull, with his thick body, glowering eyes, and that tight helmet of black hair covering a ramming head. He had no horns — but otherwise he was a bull. “No,” he repeated in a deep tone. He sounded very Spanish. “They killed my son. They were responsible.” He pointed to Carla. “Not her!”

“Take me home, Manny.” Carla walked slowly to the door. She wondered where Max’s wife was waiting. Was there a different waiting room? Or was she allowed into intensive care?

Brillstein tried to soothe Manny with words: “Of course they’re responsible. They’re going to pay. Don’t worry.”

“They have to pay.” Manny’s voice sounded at least an octave lower than was normal.

“Take me home,” Carla said again. This time Manny came.

In the parking lot, as they got into his father’s car, Manny said, “Don’t worry. I’m going to drive slow.”

“Drive the way you want,” she told him honestly. “I don’t care.” On the way home she fell asleep.

The car’s tires hummed on a metal bridge, rumbling underneath her dream. She walked into a white room dressed in a red T-shirt, very bright red and very long. It covered her knees.

Bubble was at her left breast, feeding. He looked up at her thoughtfully while his mouth worked. She felt him pull the sustenance out of her chest, on a string from her heart.

He blinked his eyes.

He was no longer a newborn. Now he stood a few feet away, a toddler. He bent his knees, his chubby legs wrinkling, and laughed hard, showing a mouth of tiny white teeth.

What’s so funny? she tried to ask, but no words came out. She was frustrated.

They were outside, on a lawn that rolled down and away, disappearing into sky, a pale sky, almost white. Bubble came up close, his face as big as the world. She felt his breath on her neck.