Charitable Donations

Romie’s parents didn't talk about where the money had come from. Her parents were arguing and fighting over bills for months, and there was talk of selling the house. Then her father went away for a weekend. Romie’s mother said he was offered a job out of town, but he’d be back soon.  

“Soon” was apparently sometime in the middle of Monday night. Romie arose for school Tuesday morning and found him sitting at the kitchen table. His skin was clammy and grey, and he stared across the room, not even acknowledging that his daughter had walked in.

“Papi? You’re back!” She skipped over to him and gave him a sideways hug, but jerked her arm back. “You’re cold! Are you okay?”

Pedro Salazar turned his head toward Romie, his eyes unmoving in their sockets. He creaked his neck back to meet her eyes and flipped the switch to activate a smile. “Hey, honey. I’m fine. It was a long weekend, is all.”

“Are you sick? Maybe you caught something at…where were you? Mom wouldn’t say.”

“I’m fine. It was a long weekend.” He turned his face back to the refrigerator across the room, his head moving in little starts like a gear inside was loose.

“Get some rest, then.” Romie leaned over and gave her father a kiss on his balding head and wiped her mouth on her sleeve afterward. She had never kissed a fish before, but she imagined that’s what it might have felt like. She grabbed a Pop-Tart from the cabinet and shot her father one more glance before she pranced out the door to school.  

When Romie returned in the afternoon, her father was gone. He usually didn’t get home until after dinner, so that wasn’t unusual. Romie’s mother also worked long hours, and Romie got started on dinner for the three of them. Canned chili and pre-made biscuits were ready when Maria Salazar walked through the door at six.

“Mom! How was your day?”

“It was good. We had back-to-back procedures today, so as soon as one operating room was prepped, another needed cleaned. All. Day. Long.” Maria washed her hands up to her elbows, an extra measure even though she knew she was clean and disinfected before she left the hospital.

“That sounds rough. But that’s why you’re the Nurse of the Month three months running!”

“Yeah, that’s why. Dinner smells wonderful, thank you, sweetie.”

The pair pulled up chairs and tucked into their meal. “Did Dad go to work today? He didn’t look good this morning.”

Maria’s chili dropped off her spoon. “You saw him?” Romie hadn’t seen that look in her mother’s eyes since Romie was a little girl and was playing in the park near an anthill. She had no clue that the foot-high dome of dirt housed thousands of red ants that would aggressively tear into her if she took one step closer.

“Yeah, on my way out the door. He looked sick or something. What was he doing this weekend?”

“Working. He’ll be fine. A friend of Mr. Cunningham had some landscaping or something at his cabin to do and needed an extra pair of hands.” Maria seemed to be telling this story to her dinner rather than to her daughter, reminding Romie that her mother always made her look her in the eyes when she said where she was going on the weekends or why she was getting home later than she expected.

“Well, I hope he got paid good for it. He looked like hell.”

“He’s fine. Tell me about your day.”

That was all the prompting Romie needed to begin effusing about angst-ridden romantic melodramas, a mandatory pep rally, the classmates in her chemistry project group who weren’t pulling their weight, and other essential details from her day at school. Before Romie knew it, her mother was clearing the dinner dishes from the table and her father was standing in the doorway, smiling his 45-degree grin that nearly reached his right ear, and looking as healthy - albeit tired - as always.

“Dad! You’re home! Are you feeling better?”

“Of course, mija. Everything is going to be okay now.”

“Now? What do you mean?”

“Well, this work I did this weekend…” Pedro crossed over to the kitchen table and sat down, but not before Romie caught the look between her two parents. “It paid very well. Mr. Cunningham was so happy I could help his friend out, he, uh, he increased our medical coverage. We won’t have to worry about doctor bills and stuff like that anymore.”

“Oh, well that’s cool.” Romie arose and took her father’s plate to the stove where the chili resided. She fixed him a serving and brought it to him, gasping in surprise as she set it before him. “Dad, are you bleeding?!” She pointed at the red stripe sweating through the side of his shirt.

“Oh, that’s nothing.” Pedro rose and pulled at his shirt, waving away his daughter’s concern. “Just a scrape from this weekend. In fact, I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow. I’ll have him look at it. It’s okay.” He hurried out of the kitchen and closed his bedroom door behind him. Romie’s mom mutely, deliberately tended to the dishes and put away the leftovers before she followed Pedro to their room.

Romie pretended to be on her phone during the charade, but poked her head around the corner as her mom opened their bedroom door. Her father stood before their bedroom mirror with his shirt off, his arm raised to examine the foot-long incision below his ribs, running from his belly to his back. He dabbed at the oozing wound’s smooth edges, muttering quietly, “Not yet, you have to wait, my little friend…”

Something squirmed beneath the surface of her father, distending his skin, wriggling into wet, dark spaces within him. Romie dropped her phone, but couldn’t scream. Her mother turned to shut the door, but not before putting one finger to her lips and giving Romie a wordless warning, “Shhh!”