Furia(60)

My mom thinking I’d ever want to become a doctor was proof of how little she knew me. I wasn’t made for this calling.

It was almost noon by the time the receptionist called my name. A nurse weighed me, measured me, and then led me to an examination room. Like the reception area, the walls were covered in peeling eggshell paint. It smelled like creolin, antiseptic, and humidity.

“Come in, Hassan,” said Doctor Gaudio, a white man who looked to be in his late forties. His salt-and-pepper hair was long for a guy his age. His smile was tired, and his fingers and teeth had the characteristic yellow tinge of nicotine.

“Good to meet you, Doctor.”

He got straight to the point. “What’s going on?” After visiting Miriam, I could see why my mother found him abrasive. He leaned against an examination table covered in a gray sheet that should’ve been retired long ago. He motioned for me to sit on the table and took a seat next to an ancient computer.

“I . . . got injured playing fútbol, and my coach won’t let me play without a doctor’s note.”

His eyes brightened. “You play fútbol? Following in your brother’s footsteps?”

“I wouldn’t say that . . .” I realized that if I were following in anyone’s footsteps, it was my father’s. Both Pablo and I had devoted our lives to our father’s sport. I didn’t know what that said about us.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Doctor Gaudio said, “Show me the injury. I didn’t notice you limping or favoring one foot when you walked in, but I’ve been surprised before.”

I didn’t know how to do what he was asking, so I just stared at him. After a minute, he understood, and his face softened. “Just a second.” He walked toward the door, opened it, and hollered, “Sonia! Come here for a minute.”

Sonia came straight away. She’d been one of the nurses drinking mate and laughing behind the counter, but now she seemed attentive. “What do you need, Facundo?”

“Please stay here while I examine her.”

Sonia nodded, and after a quick glance in my direction, she stepped into the room.

I pulled down my warm-up pants and sat on the examination table. Although the leg didn’t hurt anymore, the bruise still looked like a rotten steak. I caught the look that passed between the doctor and Sonia and felt the need to explain. “I got cleated during my championship game,” I said too quickly. “This girl was a steam engine . . . and then I stepped in a hole . . .” I stopped talking before I sounded more ridiculous than I already did.

He pressed his lips into a hard line, but his eyes remained soft. “May I?”

Sonia observed from the corner of the room with a somber expression on her face.

I nodded, and he inspected my thigh. I hadn’t noticed him putting gloves on. The doctor pressed softly on the bruise and asked, “Does this hurt?”

“No,” I said, suddenly terrified that the reason it didn’t hurt anymore was because it was injured beyond repair. The doctor checked my ankle next, turning my foot, but that didn’t hurt either.

He exhaled and smiled tightly. “I think it’s a good idea to do some X-rays to rule out any fractures, especially in your ankle, but I’m pretty sure that it looks a lot worse than it actually is. I guess a truly gifted curandera did her job right.”

I knew better than to admit I’d gone to a curandera in front of the doctor. Still, I felt like I owed him an explanation. “My brother and Diego Ferrari and even Luciano Durant, remember him? They told me to come here. Luciano is my coach’s assistant . . . and . . .”

“And Diego Ferrari is your ‘friend’?” Sonia asked. The way she said friend made me want to curl up like a potato bug.

“Sonia will take you to the radiology room,” the doctor said, and I could tell he was trying not to smile.

I pulled my pants back up, but before I left the room, he coughed softly. I turned to look at him.

“Camila . . . if there’s something other than fútbol going on, know that you have options.”

“I got cleated and then I fell,” I said, dismayed that after everything I’d said, he still hadn’t believed me.

The doctor turned his palms up in a conciliatory gesture. “In the case that these injuries are the result of a particularly vicious opponent and mere distraction, I advise that you warm up and cool down properly. Eat plenty of protein. Sleep well. Drink water. But then, Pablo, Diego, and Luciano will have already told you all this. But in case there’s something else a curandera can’t cure with a handful of rice or a measure of ribbon, then know that there is help out there. Regardless of the way the news makes it seem, there is help for girls and women like you . . .” He paused, swallowed. And then he added, “There is help for you and your mother.”

A whirlwind of anguish opened up under my feet. I hadn’t ever seen my father hit my mother, but what did I know?

“Thank you,” I said, and followed Sonia to the X-ray room.





26





On Saturday, I headed to the scrimmage with Luciano and Yael. They made a perfect team. Yael served as lookout. Luciano drove like a Formula 1 racer, dodging a horse-pulled garbage cart first and then a brand-new black Jeep Cherokee. All around me, there were reminders of Diego.