I nod, grabbing my handbag and car keys.“I honestly don’t know how to thank you for this,” I confess.
“You’re driving me home.That’s thanks enough.”She dismisses my gratitude with a flick of her wrist as she pulls the door open.
Locking the café tonight signals the beginning of the countdown to Hydra.We walk the short distance to my car in silence.
The drive to Helen’s building is just as quiet.Thankfully, she doesn’t try to fill it with small talk, sensing the storm of dread and furious calculation raging in my head.Her respect for my inner turmoil is a quiet gift.
I don’t register the turns or the traffic lights; my mind is a battlefield of what-ifs.I surface only when the red brick of Helen’s building solidifies out of the haze.
Minutes later, Helen pushes open the door to her third-floor apartment.Compared to the utilitarian feel of my office-turned-bedroom, her space feels overwhelminglynormal.Warm light spills from a living room lamp.The air smells faintly of something home-cooked.Colorful photos clutter a small bookshelf.
It’s cozy.Lived-in.Achingly real.
“Okay, shower’s first door on the left down that hall,” Helen says immediately, shedding her coat.“Fresh towels are on the rack.Take as long as you need,mija.”She enters her small kitchen area.“I’ll heat up some dinner for us.”
“Oh no, no, you’ve done enough,” I object.“Just a quick shower and I’ll be on my way.”
“Stop being weird!We’re not strangers, Ames,” she protests, pausing by the counter.“Plus, I made enough chili to feed this entire building twice!”She shoos me with her hand.“Now, go.Go shower.Stop wasting time.”
I raise my hands in defeat, smiling warmly.“Okay, okay, I’m going.”
The hot water is an immediate balm, sluicing away the grime of the day and unknotting muscles I didn’t realize were clenched like fists.The deep knot of dread remains lodged below my ribs, but for fifteen minutes, under the steady, steaming spray, I allow myself to simply exist.
Not the café owner.
Not the cornered fiancée.
Just Amy, breathing in the anonymous safety of a friend’s bathroom.
I step out into a cloud of steam, wrapping myself in a thick towel that smells of fabric softener and a normal life.The roar of Helen’s hairdryer drowns out my thoughts for a few blissful moments.But pulling on my jeans and sweater feels like shrugging back into a heavy uniform.The brief illusion of being ‘just Amy’ evaporates.The woman who has to go to war tonight settles back into my bones.
I emerge just in time to see Helen place two bowls of chili at opposite ends of her square table.
“Better?”she asks softly, taking a seat and gesturing for me to do the same.
“So much better,” I admit, feeling the truth of it.
Cleaner.
Calmer on the surface.
As ready as I’ll ever be.
I sit across from Helen.The rich aroma of her chili makes my stomach rumble.“Thank you for all this, Helen.”
“Enough thanking me.Start eating,porfa.”She nods at my bowl.
I pick up the spoon.The first bite of chili is a burst of spicy warmth that is deeply comforting.
“Mmm… This is really good.”My eyebrows rise in surprise as the flavors burst across my tongue.
“Reina del chile.”She tilts her chin up with pride.“Queen of chili.They call me that for a reason.”She winks at me before enjoying another spoonful of her own.
“I can see why.”I nod in agreement.“I just don’t think I could finish it all.It’s a very generous portion.”I take a few more mouthfuls, surprised to find a small pocket of hunger beneath the layers of anxiety.
Helen chuckles.“Disculpa, I got used to serving big portions because of Rafael, my son.He eats for five, that one.Practically lives at the gym.”
I set my spoon down with a giggle.“Does he live here with you?”
