That's when his mother turns and sees me standing in the corner of the room.
"¡Caramba!" She places a hand on her chest. "Are you Laney?" Her eyes grow wide and her smile even wider as she steps over and pulls my hand into hers.
"Yes ma'am." I say timidly. How much has Miguel told her about us? Am I just the girl he's training, a fellow colleague on the circuit, his bedmate? Friend? More? Less?
I have been spiraling since his confession. I hate that my chaos invaded his control. I hate that I relied on him to guide me, that I couldn't do it myself. He just let me put more and more pressure on him to plan my training while he’s trying to get himself ready for the Deca next spring.
And then his confession that I’m his source of happiness?
It’s too much.
I'm barely responsible for myself. I can't be responsible for his mental state too.
Miguel's mom turns to him while still shaking my hand. "¡Ella es hermosa!" She turns back to me. "How hard did you make him beg to be your boyfriend?"
"Mamá!"
"Oh hush," she bats away his protest. "You get up and stop me."
Miguel’s head falls back to the pillow with a puff of air expelling from his mouth.
"It is a pleasure to meet you." She stands a little taller. "I am Marisol Herrera Garcia."
"It's nice to meet you." I say through a tight smile. "I’m just going to…"
With a thumb hooked over my shoulder I start to back out of the room.
"Laney, wait, please, don’t go. I’m sorry." Miguel lifts a hand out as if he’s going to grab a tether and drag me back to him.
"I know, me too." I keep my eyes on him even though I can feel his mother’s gaze following my every move.
"Laney." Miguel pleads.
"I’ll talk to you later." I try to keep the emotion out of my voice. But it’s getting harder and harder to hold back the tears. "Mrs. Garcia, it was nice meeting you." I lift my palm in a flat wave and make my exit.
The harsh metal on metal screech of curtains opening and closing grates against my nerves as I retreat down the busy hospital corridor. Each machine beep and nurse call button tone bangs against the door I’m trying to keep my emotions locked behind.
I bounce on my toes as I wait for the automatic doors to open. Why are they so slow? Don’t people need speed and efficiency in emergency departments?
Gulps of fresh air finally fill my lungs. Well, fresh is relative. I’m standing in the middle of a congested city block, next to a busy line of traffic pulling in and dropping people off at the hospital. But the air isn’t sterile and I think that’s the key.
Miguel’s apology, from the ground at my feet, while he was in major pain, was about his past. His drug use. I saw the pill bottle the first time we weretogetherand didn’t think about it again since.
He’s not using them now.
Why would I hate him because he misused them years before I even knew him?
No, the thing causing my insides to feel like they’re collapsing in on themselves is that he turned down a sponsorship opportunity on my behalf without talking to me about it.
I thought I had it made. I had a partner who not only supported all the effort TP takes, but understands how to excel in the sport. And one who wouldn’t get in my way.
I turn on the sidewalk and head east. There’s a park behind the hospital with benches and a view of Lake Shore Drive, and the lake beyond. Dazed steps get me to my destination and I take a seat.
"I thought he believed in me. I thought he loved me." I mumble to no one. Dee is in the middle of her work day, I can’t call her and derail everything she’s working on.
I’m all alone.
Hot tears pool in my vision and my nose stings with emotion.
