The Music of What Happens(73)

I’ve never heard little Rosa curse before, and I realize I really like her. Max has told me enough so that I know her foibles, but to me, she’s really what a mom should be. Warm, kind, in charge, real.

We sit in the waiting room, the three of us, after Rosa and Max check in. Then they take Max back, and Rosa and I sit there in silence for a bit. She reaches for my hand and holds it. Her hand is warm and slightly damp.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you came and got me. This is too much for you to deal with on your own. Max is gonna need some help. A counselor, probably. Get some of the anger out.”

“I didn’t even realize,” I say, and a tear falls again. “I’m so wrapped up in me that I somehow didn’t notice —”

She shushes me. “Enough of that,” she says. “You’re a person. You did your best and it was plenty. I’m so happy Max has you.”

This makes me smile. I blurt out, “Will you be my mom?” And then I shrink back, because I love my mom, and I don’t mean that.

She smiles wider and laughs a bit. “Not so good on the home front, huh?”

“My mom’s okay,” I say, my shoulders automatically tensing.

Rosa smiles at me but I can tell her mind is elsewhere, as it should be. “You need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

I nod. I’m fine. We’re fine. Somehow it’ll all be okay.

The doctor comes out and calls Max’s mom in. I am left alone to think about all of these things.

What if Max has HIV? Would I stay with him?

Yes, I realize. I would. I’d take care of him if I had to.

What if Max doesn’t really like me and he was just in a weird place because of the rape?

That I couldn’t handle, I don’t think.

By the time they come out, hand in hand, it’s 5:14 on Saturday morning and I’m a mess. I’ve decided Max is going to break up with me because he doesn’t really like me. And I know. I’m making this about me. But I don’t know how to not do that.

Until I see his face, and then it all goes away, and I stand and I hug him hard, and he hugs me back, hard.

In the car, Max explains to me what’s up.

No he probably doesn’t have HIV, which causes AIDS, but it’s not impossible. The window period to be sure is three months, but after one month, which it’s almost been, it’s 95 percent. That test was negative. I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Thanks to his mom, who insisted he get vaccinated, he doesn’t have HPV. He may have any number of other STIs, and those tests will come back soon. Anything he has would be curable, though. Or at least manageable.

“I’m here for you,” I say, and I glance up and see his mom’s mouth curl into a weak smile. “Whatever you need, I’m in. Okay?”

“Thanks,” Max says. “That means a lot to me.”

His hand is wrapped pretty tight with ACE bandages. Not broken, he explains. It might impact his cooking for a week or so, but we’re not gonna be cooking much this week anyway, since the truck is still in the shop.

“I want to get you in to see a counselor who deals with sexual assault,” Rosa says.

Max shrugs. “We’ll see.”

“No ‘we’ll see’ about it,” she says. “Required.”

“Maybe,” he says.

Rosa shakes her head. “I’d say you got that from your dad, but maybe that’s just a man thing? I remember your uncle Guillermo did the same thing when I tried to get him to see a counselor. What is it with you men and not talking?”

Max turns to me like I’ll be on his side. I am on his side. Just not about this. “I think it’s a good idea,” I say. “You punched a pool tile. A perfectly innocent pool tile.”

This makes him laugh a bit. Then he stops laughing. “Can I be real?”

“Yes,” Rosa and I say, simultaneously.

“Half of me doesn’t believe I was raped. Like, I get about consent and all, but I was … I don’t know.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“Were what?” Rosa asks.

“I can’t do this,” he says, his voice exhausted. “Talk about this.”

“Mijo? You have to. Really. Me and your beautiful friend back there? We’re gonna be on you to talk about it.”

He sighs, exasperated. “Can it be rape if you didn’t hate every second of it, while it was happening?”

His mom takes his hand and wraps her small hand around it. “Absolutely, mijo. It must be confusing. I think that’s very normal.”

“I don’t know,” Max says.

“Did you say no?”

He nods.

“Did you at any point say anything that changed your answer?”

He shakes his head.

“You see, that’s not okay. Doesn’t matter if you’re a boy. Or you’re bigger. That’s not okay. Hear me?”

He nods again, and soon I can see from the side his face cringing again, and I hear him sniffling, and I lean forward and put my arms around him from behind.

“I’m so glad you told us,” I blurt out. “That’s really awesome. It makes me like you more, okay? That you would tell us. That’s like really strong.”