Cleopatra and Frankenstein(88)

“Hey, man?” he asked. “Could you do me a favor? Could you not call me big guy?”

Anders raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t know it bothered you. Sure.”

Santiago looked at the ground and kicked the dust with his sneaker heel. “It’s no big deal.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been, I don’t know, distant since you got here.”

Santiago was about to say something dismissive about being busy with the restaurant when he stopped himself. What was it Dominique had said? Nothing changes if nothing changes. He was tired of being the affable doormat. He looked up from his feet.

“What happened between you and Cleo?” he asked.

He caught the shock Anders’s face momentarily registered before hardening into defensiveness.

“What makes you think anything happened between me and Cleo?”

“She’s not doing so well, man.”

Anders yanked a dry yellow hunk of brush and waved it dismissively in front of him. “Cleo’s fine. She’s got Frank. That’s all she wants.”

“No, man. She hurt herself real bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Santiago made a cutting motion down his wrist. “It’s serious, Anders.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who told you she did that?”

“I went to visit her in the hospital.”

“When?”

“Before I came here.”

Anders leaped to his feet. He had turned a pale shade of maroon. He clutched his hair with both hands and cast around left and right, swinging his entire body, as if Cleo might suddenly appear before him. When he did speak, his voice was hoarse.

“Why didn’t you say something? Or Frank? Why didn’t he call me?”

“He asked me not to. I guess he didn’t want … People knowing their business.”

Santiago was gratified to see the sting of exclusion on Anders’s face.

“I need to go see her,” he said firmly.

He scrambled to grab his water bottle and leash. So it was true, Santiago realized. Anders and Cleo. The indignity of the situation hit him like a physical blow. He stood in front of Anders, blocking his way.

“How could you, man?” he said quietly. “Frank is like your brother.”

“What flight are you taking? I’m coming back with you.”

“Your best friend. What’s wrong with you?”

“Look, you don’t understand the situation … So, with all due respect, get the fuck out of my way.” Anders sidestepped him and made to leave, then turned back. “Wait, where’s Thor? Thor! Thor!”

He ran a few steps down the path, returned, then jumped into the thicket of brush and wildflowers, thrashing the greenery back with his arms as he yelled the dog’s name. Santiago began to call for him too. The name sounded alien in his mouth, but he kept his voice clear and steady. Anders returned, looking sweaty and flustered.

“I can’t see him,” he said.

“Were you meant to let him off the leash?”

“I don’t know. He’s a fucking dog. They’re meant to run around, aren’t they?”

After fifteen more fruitless minutes of searching, they decided to retrace their steps in the hopes the puppy would find them on the way back. Anders set off down the path at a brisk clip.

“Keep up!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Huffing behind him, Santiago followed. It was easier downhill, and they made good headway on the narrow winding path. Every few feet Anders would yell Thor’s name in a strained voice. Santiago tried his best to chime in, but he was concentrating on keeping his legs steady as he bounced down the steep slope. His thoughts rattled in his head with every step. Who did Anders think he was? How dare he say it was none of his business! Cleo and Frank were his cherished friends. He had prepared their wedding meal. He wasn’t just some pudgy sidekick with no feelings, happy to play the part of the sympathetic listener without an opinion of his own. He was a part of this. He mattered.

“You’re so selfish it’s crazy, man!” he yelled at Anders’s back.

“Fuck you!” Anders called over his shoulder.

Anders was beginning to put distance between them. Santiago took a deep breath and quickened his pace, leaping over a boulder with ease. He felt superhuman.

“You need to leave her alone! She’s been through enough!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“You sound like a child!” he yelled.

“I need to do this!” Anders yelled back. “I need to see her!”

“It’s not about what you need!”

Nimble Anders disappeared around a bend ahead of him. Santiago surged on; there was no way he was going to let him off the hook. He was flying, gathering more speed than he had in years, when he felt his ankle roll beneath him. A moment of giddy, weightless suspension, and then he was tumbling forward, arms outstretched, skidding down the path on his belly in a cloud of dirt. He could hear Anders’s light footsteps recede as he became aware of the laughing chorus of cicadas surrounding him. He heaved himself onto his back and looked up at the bright stretch of sky above him. There was a dull pain in his right knee. Otherwise, he felt fine. He felt alive.

Santiago lay on his back, catching his breath. He placed a hand on his hammering heart and another on his belly, as he’d been taught to do in the yoga classes he’d recently started attending, and focused on slowing down his heart rate. He heard a thrashing near him and then, in a flurry of yelps and yaps, Thor was on him. He pushed his paws joyfully into Santiago’s chest and stomach, licking his chin, nostrils, and even, most unfortunately, the inside of his mouth when Santiago opened it to protest. He sat up and gave Thor a couple of playful punches.