“No, you sit down. What is your name?”
“Marshall. Marshall Clifford, ma’am.”
She hooked an arm in his. “Come. Sit down, Marshall. I like to hear about Rex. You tell us.”
“Mamá, no es necesario,” I said, helpless to stop a small Boricuan mamá when she had one thing on her mind.
“Shh, Cachi. Marshall is guest.”
Mars exchanged a helpless glance with me and the other agent who smirked, but he did as he was asked and let her guide him to the couch. I followed and took a seat across from her and Mars as she peppered him with questions about Rex. When she heard that he had no feeling in his legs, she started to cry.
“But the doc said ‘e just woke up. The feeling may come back and the paralysis might not be permanent,” Mars explained.
She looked at me, and I translated all the details that Captain Sorensen had relayed to us after he was told about Rex’s condition.
“We pray for Rex,” she concluded with a determined nod.
I reached into my pocket, remembering the crucifix and handed it to her. She smiled at me when Carlotta came back with a big container of enchiladas as Mars stood.
“Much appreciated, ma’am,” he said, smiling as he took the container from her. “Rex is going to really enjoy this.”
Tia Carlotta blushed. “No problem. Please tell Rex we will pray for him.”
“I’ll do that.” Mars turned to me, and I rushed at him, throwing my arms around him, hugging him hard. He smelled good and very solid, just like Rex. “I’ll take ya advice, Cachi. We’ll build that ramp just in case Rex needs it,” he said as he let go of me.
I stepped back and nodded to him.
“Tell Rex—” I didn’t know what to say.
Mars gave me a sad smile. He nodded. “I will tell ‘im. You take care of yourself, okay?” He waved at everyone and walked tothe door while I followed. He opened the front door and turned to me.
“Thank you, Mars.”
“Cheers, Cachi. You look after ya self, yeah.”
I watched him walk down the steps and out to his car. When he turned around, I waved and then shut the front door, knowing it might be the last time I ever saw him.
REX
I looked at the unappealing heart healthy meal one of the nurses had gleefully put onto the rolling table for me about a half hour ago. The sad lump of reconstituted potato flakes was perfectly round, probably from the ice cream scoop the hospital used to prepare hundreds of trays. And I suppose the tiny piece of ground meat shaped in a square was their idea of meatloaf. I quickly decided I’d send them my own recipe. At least it wouldn’t be gray and held together with shredded cardboard like this one.
I picked up my fork and poked at the green Jell-O in a separate dish. It was topped with whipping cream but that too was artificial, not the real thing made from heavy whipping cream, vanilla, and sugar. The green dessert jiggled in the most nauseating way.
When the door opened and Mars stepped inside holding something in a long, flat Tupperware box, my heart did a happy dance in anticipation of good food. He smiled broadly as he walked over to the bed.
“’Ullo, Rex.”
It was so nice to hear the Liverpool accent coming from one of my best friends. It made me feel better just knowing mybrothers were nearby. I’d seen him only once for a couple of minutes after all the guys had come in to wish me a quick healing after Cachi left…or should I say, after I’d sent him away.
“Hey, buddy. What’d’ya got there?”
“’Omemade chicken enchiladas.”
I glanced up at him, remembering the last time he’d made Mexican which he’d cooked in his own kitchen. It’d been something none of us could identify as…well…as food. I raised an eyebrow. “You made this?” I hesitated to reach out and take the box, so he set it on the table and grinned at me.
“Nope. This was made by the loving ‘ands of Cachi’s mum and his auntie Carlotta.”
I blinked several times. “What?”
