Page 12 of Hate That Blooms
You want to be my king, stalker boy? Prove it to me. Make the hurting stop.
Chapter6
Joaquín
“You want to be my king... Make the hurting stop.”
How can I stop the pain if I just want to hurt her? I want her all to myself, but after what she told me, I’m torn between my desire and my conscience. She wants to kill herself because it’s all too much. My anger towards everything is still consuming me, making it difficult to make rational decisions. Instead of telling myself to leave her alone and ease her pain, I find myself caught in a dilemma, contemplating how to minimize the harm I wish to inflict upon her. Only until she can handle it.
Consumed by my thoughts, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, the quiet of the room amplifying the chaos within me. I replay the day, from seeing her at the grocery store with her sister to following them to the park. Watching Gabriela with her sister stirred something inside of me. It was beautiful to watch how she handled her sister with love and compassion, despite her obvious worry of a scene being caused. I didn’t know her sister was on the spectrum or that Gabriela is her primary caregiver. Thiago confirmed my suspicion on our ride back to his house. Cora tells him everything, apparently.
Scrolling through our messages, I smirked at the last message I sent from the park. She thinks I’m joking, but I won’t be fucking around when it comes to her. When everything settles down in our lives, that girl will have all my babies. I’ll follow her to whatever college she goes to, let her get her education, and then baby making time will commence. Somehow, I end up on her social media, looking through all her past pictures and finding the ones of her and her sister.
Pictures of them at the beach, park, some autism events in town, and other things. Their parents aren’t in any photos, and that makes my heart hurt. Gabriela stepped up as a parent when she shouldn’t have had to. I feel my eyes getting heavy as I continue to scroll through pictures and videos. Before I put my phone on the charger, I typed out a comment on one picture of her and her sister.
Joaquín: Que linda es.
Then I close out of the app, set my phone down on the charger, and close my eyes, wishing she was in my bed so I could hold her. To tell her that she is amazing, so fucking beautiful and everything I want.
Fuck, why are feelings so confusing?
* * *
Erratic thumping on my bedroom door jolts me awake, and my eyes strain at the light peeking through the blinds. “It’s Sunday!” I shout, “Let me sleep.”
“Mijo, get your ass up. I got a call, and I need your help since all the other guys are off for Sunday.“ Dad shouts through the door. “Work clothes, five minutes.”
I groan as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, running my fingers through my hair to tame the bedhead I’ve got going on. Of course, he would get an emergency call on Sunday, and there would be nobody else on call to help him. He’s lucky I even entertained the idea of getting a job with the city as an on-call temp worker. He made it seem like it was a good way to get job experience. In reality, he always has someone to work with him.
My feet drag as I pull out a pair of work jeans and the brightly colored orange shirt with the city logo. I grab my work boots, sit in my computer chair, and lace them up. I grabbed my workhat off the hook on the wall before leaving the room. I flip it backward and close my door behind me. Dad waits for me in the kitchen, sipping his cup of coffee and tossing food into a lunch pail.
“Get your ass moving, Joaquín. A pipe burst in the city park, and they need it fixed ASAP because there’s some event going on today.”
I grab a thermos from the cabinet and fill it with coffee, as well as some leftover banana muffins that our neighbor made for us a few days ago. I take a quick sip of the coffee, feeling the warmth seep through my body, momentarily energizing me. Dad and I rush out the door, hopping into his beat-up work truck. The engine roars to life, and we speed off towards the city park.
Silence fills the drive, with the only sound being the rumbling of the truck’s engine and the occasional honking of impatient drivers. I gaze out the window, watching as the cityscape transforms into a more serene and green environment as we approach the park. We pull up to the park and I hop out and unlock the main gate so Dad can pull the truck in. The sight of chaos greets me. Water gushes from the burst pipe, already dug up, creating a small river that snakes its way through the park. I can see the panic in my dad’s eyes as he assesses the situation.
“Yeah, I don’t think they can have that event here today.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “It looks like the irrigation crew from Saturday didn’t get the job finished and just left it for Monday.”
After wasting no time, we grab our tools and head over to the pipe to get a better look. The sound of hammers and drills fills the air as we work tirelessly to patch the pipe good enough to last until tomorrow morning. Sweat drips down my forehead, mixing with the dirt and grime on my face. But I push through, determined to help my dad and get the job done.
Hours pass, and the sun reaches its peak in the sky. With the successful patch of the pipe, the water flow has finally come to a halt. We take a moment to catch our breath, wiping the sweat from our brows. We’ve gotten the immediate crisis under control, although the park is now a dangerous, muddy mess. The weekday crew will have to come back and replace the pipe, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.
People have started to show up to the park, and I’m guessing the city never contacted anyone to let them know the situation. I nudge Dad’s shoulder, alerting him to the growing crowd of people. “Hijo de puta!(Son of a bitch!)”He cleans off his hands and starts walking toward the group of people to let them know the situation. I sit on the tailgate of the truck, eating the muffin from this morning and sipping on the coffee I brought with me. Lost in exhaustion, I go to pull my phone out to text the guys about hanging out later, when I hear her panicked voice.
“Reya, stop!” She screams, and I hear the panic in her voice. My eyes snap up from my phone, and I see her little sister sprinting toward the playground.
The playground that’s flooded and too dangerous to play on. Where there’s a massive hole in the ground that she is running right towards. I toss the muffin and my thermos into the bed of the truck and sprint across the grass. My hat and sunglasses fall from the top of my head as I run as fast as I can. “Princesa, detente!(Princess, Stop!)”Making it to her just before she can run straight into the hole.
I scoop her up into my arms, slowing myself down before I tumble down the hill with her. She pulls back from my shoulder to look at me. “No, stop! Park!” She beats my chest with her little fists. Across the grass, I see Gabriela sprinting over to us. I drop to the grass and hug this crying little girl to me, giving her a gentle squeeze. Just like I remember Gabriela doing at the store.
“I know, I’m sorry,Princesa. But the park’s not safe to play in right now.”
After a few seconds, she calms slightly, wrapping her arms around my neck. I feel her little fingers tug on the curls at my nape, and I look down at her and smile. “Pretty just like your sister.”
“Reya!” Gabriela shouts again, out of breath and panic in her eyes.
Gabriela drops in front of me to her knees, holding out her arms to her sister. “She just took off.” She says, her voice shaking, “Oh god, what if it had been the street?” Tears streak her cheeks, and I struggle to keep myself from wanting to reach out and hug her, too.
