Free Bodega Dreams by Ernesto B. Quinonez Page B

smiles and tells me, ‘No, I haven’t gone to the movies since Iwent with you.’ ” She stopped and stared at Victor. “So I showed him the stub, Chino. I told him this was in his shirt pocket. Thass right, you didn’t see this with Mike or Nando or with me because this is a movie you took another woman to see!”
    “She’s crazy. I … I always like Al Pacino … you know that, Chino. Right? Right? Tell her, tell her I always liked Pacino.” In pain, Victor was begging for help.
    “I’ll tell her on the way to Metropolitan, man. We got to take you there quick, bro,” I said, and knelt down to check his wound again. He shrugged me away. I turned back to look at Negra.
    “Negy, he needs to go—”
    “He doesn’t want to go!” she shrieked.
    “What about calling an ambulance, then!” I shouted back. Everyone was angry now and I wasn’t about to be left behind.
    “Nah … nah … I don’t want anyone called,” Victor said.
    “
Que me lleven.
Die. Bleed to death then!” she said, lighting another cigarette and stomping back into the living room.
    “Chino, come closer,” Victor said, “You got to … take me … to Mount Sinai,” he whispered.
    “But Metropolitan is two blocks from here.” It made sense to go there, because Mount Sinai was all the way west on Fifth Avenue.
    “Nah, cuz Negra might wanna come too … and … and … Negra can’t come to Metro … see … my girl … she … she works at Metropolitan … emergency room … an’ this is her shift.”
    “Wha?”
    “Not so loud … 
ayy
 … man, I feel dizzy.” Right then Negra walked back in. Her face seemed less angry and I thought I even detected some remorse. She joined me, kneeling next to Victor, and started to coo, whispering that he should let us call the paramedics, brushing his hair back lightly. I knew that Victor would never agree to that because the ambulance would drive him to the nearest hospital, Metropolitan.
    “Help me, Chino,” he pleaded. I knew it wasn’t just his health he was worried about.
    “Negra, I’m taking Victor to the hospital. Get me a towel.” She jumped up and raced out to get me one.
    “Vic, I’ll take you to the hospital but you got to let me put a towelaround you, okay?” I knew he was reluctant to pull his hand away from his stomach, but he agreed, nodding his head and grimacing in pain. Negra ran back in with the towel.
    “I’m coming too,” she said.
    “You’re … crazy … I don’t want you near me!” Victor yelled at Negra, more out of pain than anger.
    “I don’t want you … coming …” Victor glared at Negra. “Chino will take me.”
    “Yes, I’ll take him,” I repeated, helping Victor to his feet.
    “See … Chino … will take me,” he moaned.
    Negra agreed and even seemed sorry. She touched her fingers to her mouth, mumbling worried words as she opened the door. I was holding Victor with one arm around his shoulder and one arm around his stomach as we made our way out of the apartment. Negra walked out too and called the elevator. She got in with us and caressed Victor’s face. She kept telling him she believed him and that she was sorry. Once outside the building, Negra flagged a gypsy cab. Victor and I got in. He collapsed in the taxi, moaning a bit. Negra tried to kiss him but Victor turned his face away from her, so she pulled back. We drove off, leaving Negra standing at the curb shouting to us, “Call. All right? Call me.”
    “Metropolitan Hospital,” I said to the driver, but Victor summoned a bit of reserve energy.
    “Nah, nah, Mount Sinai Hospital,” he said and the driver took off.
    “Why, Victor? Negra’s not coming with us.”
    “I know … but my girl at Metro would want to know how this happened … and she don’t know I’m … married.”
    “Thass fucken great, bro. You dying and shit and you’re worried about some bimbo knowing you married. Thass great, man.” I looked out the