“Because that’s who the bull fell on.” In this, he was perfectly practical. They got hurt. All of them. It was inevitable. Sometimes it was him who rode with a broken wrist, or Balta with a torn bicep, or Joa with a torn ACL. They could get through this, no problem. Balta just had to stop being…what did they call it? A drama llama. Though in his experience, llamas were placid.
They did have long eyelashes like Joa, though.
“When we get out of this truck, I am going to hit you so hard you will be put into the next week.”
“Did you hear that from Joa?” It didn’t sound Brazilian.
“Yes. I think.” Balta shrugged. “Or Coke. Someone who lives in Texas.”
“Ah.” He nodded, though, because he understood. “Joa will be fine. He will hurt and it will not be good, but then he will heal.”
Because Raul needed it to be that way. They needed it to be, him and Balta both.
“I never wanted to see him take a hit like that,” Balta said. “He’s so young,nao?”
“Stop it,” Raul barked. “I want you to smile for him, to kiss him when no one is looking and tell him he will be fine. Do you understand?”
Balta stilled, stared at him with shocked eyes. “What? What did you say to me?”
“You heard me.” Raul glanced sideways, giving Balta a hard stare. “This is not for you to be all sighs and sorrow. He will need to believe. This is for him.”
Balta began to swell up, but whether or not he was angry mattered not one bit. Angry was better than sorrowful. Angry was better than maudlin. Raul would poke him as needed to keep Balta from sinking into a funk.
Raul waited to see if Balta would blast him and sure enough, the deluge came.
“How dare you!” Balta barked. “No one loves him like I do.”
He wasn’t sure about that. He loved Joa more than he could express, and he loved Balta enough to dare his fury. “I dare because I do love him. I love you both,caralho.”
Balta opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Then took a deep breath. “I will be good. Shit. I need to call his parents.”
“Was it live? The cameras?” He couldn’t imagine seeing it from so far away and knowing nothing.
“Sim.” Balta closed his eyes for a moment. “No one else will have called. They will all think I did.” He tugged out his phone and dialed. Balta never flinched from the hard things, for all his drama. The words flew fast and vicious for a few minutes, Balta explaining that yes, they were heading to the hospital, and yes, they knew where Joa was, and yes, as soon as he got there, he would call back, and no, he hadn’t talked to Doc.
“Nao, mai,” Balta said. “They took him in the ambulance and I had to stay to ride. You know how it is. One of us needed to get paid. He made his ride, though,sim? That’s good.”
It had been a decent ride—not enough for the short go, but a decent ride. He pulled into the hospital parking lot and started hunting a parking spot. Raul pulled in next to a pick up that seemed familiar, hoping against hope that someone else was there to sit with Joa.
There would be someone. Everyone liked Joa—even the ones who didn’t like the rest of them.
He killed the engine, before both of them exited the truck, Balta still talking fast and hard to Joa’s mother.
When they got to the information desk, though, Raul’s English failed him. The bright-eyed elderly volunteer kept smiling, blinking hard. He finally poked Balta hard in the ribs.
“Huh? Oh.Mai, I need to go. I will call.” Balta smiled, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Joaquim Lima. He was brought by ambulance.”
“Oh, yes. He’s in surgery prep. You can go to the waiting room on the third floor.”
Balta held up three fingers and took off to the elevators. “Surgery. They must let us see him.”
Raul doubted it, but he didn’t bother to argue. Sometimes Balta could be stupidly optimistic. He never believed anyone would stand in his way, really. American doctors, though, they could be cold and there were so many rules, so many papers and bills and things.
They made it to the surgery waiting room, and there was a familiar face attached to Jonesy, a member of the sports medicine team, and always a friendly smile and a helping hand.
“Silva. ‘Bout time. Hey, Raul. Hank came with me. He’s wandered off to grab coffee. Sit.”
“I want to see him,” Balta growled and Jonesy shrugged, completely unmoved.
