Scott comes back, appearing wide awake and ready to face the world. Grabbing his wallet from the bedside table, he leans over and kisses my cheek. “Be right back.”
Sighing dramatically to the now empty room, I throw back the covers and haul myself into the bathroom to take care of business. After I’ve brushed my hair and my teeth, I’m much more awake and grudgingly look around for some clothing. I’m almost dressed when I hear . . . is that Vader’s Death March?
Following the muffled sound around the other side of the bed, I crouch down and pull Scott’s phone from between the bed and the nightstand. The screen is lit up with La Suegra del Infierno (home).
The Mother in law from Hell?
There’s a serious shortage of caffeine in my system so it takes a moment to make the connection between the number and Rosa. Less than a nanosecond later, I’ve rejected any notion of Scott’s privacy and accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“Papá?” asks a small, shaky voice.
My heartrate takes off. “Rosa? It’s Ellie. Are you okay?”
She sniffles. “I want to come home. Is my dad there?”
“He forgot his phone,” I say, trying to keep calm despite Rosa’s obvious distress. “But he should be back soon.” In the background through the phone, I hear muffled yelling. “Rosa, are you . . . are you safe?”
She sniffles again, but stays mute. Maybe she’s unsure. I try again. “What’s going on? How come you want to come home?”
“I need to pee.”
What?! My brain trips and stumbles. “Umm . . . Is there someone in the bathroom?”
“The door is locked. I can’t get out.”
Get out? “You mean you can’t get in? To the bathroom?”
“No the bedroom door is locked. I can’t get out.”
My heart now pounds in my chest. What?! “Okay,” I say, getting to my feet and hitting the speaker button so I can pull a hoodie over my head, all the while trying to calculate how long Scott will be gone and if I should wait for him or go to her now. “Umm . . .”
The arguing in the background sharpens and Rosa whimpers. “Ellie, I want to come home.”
I shove my bare feet into a pair of sneakers. “Okay, I’m coming.” Grabbing my own phone, I leave the bedroom. “Just stay on the line with me, okay?” I rip a sheet of paper out of an old notebook and desperately search for a pen. Scribbling Rosa’s name on the paper in big letters, I leave it on the kitchen island. At the last second I add my passcode and an arrow to the paper, placing my phone next to it. It’s a risk to only take Scott’s phone. If Rosa hangs up, it will be useless to me without the passcode. But I can’t leave Scott with no way to contact me.
With my keys in hand, I run.
“I’m in the car now, honey, okay.” I put the phone in the cup holder. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”
“Okay.” God, she’s definitely crying.
“Where’s your mom?” I ask, silently thanking the stars that I went with Scott to drop Rosa off yesterday, so I know where to go.
“She’s in the living room.”
“And she can’t open the door?”
“She says I have to stay here until they leave.”
Wondering who they are, I try to keep calm while I drive. “Have they been there long?”
“I don’t know.” A sudden burst of yelling carries down the line. “Ellie, I’m scared.”
“Okay, I know,” I tell her, gripping the steering wheel tighter to stop my hands from shaking. Thank goodness it’s Sunday morning and there’s barely any traffic. I’m still a ways from the house when I spy a parking spot. I decide to take it, pulling in nose first, not caring that my car’s rear end is hanging partially out onto the street. I’m certainly not going to take the time to parallel park it properly.
Snatching the phone up, I run toward the house. As I’m coming up to the front door, I can hear the arguing. “I’m here now, Rosa. Stay with me on the phone though, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a clammy hand, I knock sharply. As if someone hit the mute button, the disagreement that’s raging inside stops. I hear heavy footsteps approach. The door is jerked open by some guy who looks seriously worse for wear. If his bloodshot eyes, messy hair, and disheveled clothes are any indication, he’s badly hung over.
“Who the hell are you?” he asks peevishly, giving me a once-over.
“I’m here for Rosa.” I say it as clearly and as calmly as I can.
“Rosa?” He glowers, then yells over his shoulder, “Lolita, deal with this shit.” He tries to shut the door in my face, but I lodge the toe of my sneaker in the gap before it can close. The door bounces back, surprising the guy. He’s not happy.
I put my hands up, one of them still gripping Scott’s phone, in a non-threatening gesture. “Just get Rosa and I’ll leave.” I make it sound simple, because it is.
I recognize Lolita from pictures as she comes up, her features hard with suspicion.
“E-ellie?” comes from the phone, still on speaker, and I watch Lolita’s whole demeanor change, shocked by the sound of her daughter’s distressed voice.
“Yeah, honey. I’m here. Your mom’s coming to let you out now.” I look Lolita dead in the eye and tell her, “Rosa needs to use the bathroom.”
Before she spins on her heel, I watch a whole host emotions flicker across the woman’s face; outrage, shame, panic, worry. Good. This shit is inexcusable.
Low voices from inside the house have the guy who answered the door turning back to them. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished here.”
Worried he’s talking to Lolita, I step up onto the threshold and into the room. Lolita’s nowhere to be found, but there are three other people in the room, two women sitting on a sofa across from the door, and a man perched on the arm rest beside them.
“I told you,” hangover guy says, “no one’s going anywhere until you admit to what a whore you are.”
The last ten minutes and its potent cocktail of anxiety and adrenaline must make me stupid because I scoff, loudly and derisively. All this because this asshole’s a whining misogynist?
He whirls on me. “You got something to say, bitch?”
My disgust must be evident to him, but I manage to keep my mouth shut, instead focusing on the noise coming from down the hall.
“I can’t hear you!” My heart begins to thump at his aggression, but I don’t look away as he tries to stare me down. If there’s one thing Piper’s experiences have taught me about douchebags over the years, it’s that if you give an inch, they take a mile. Not happening here, not with Rosa involved.
A hesitant female voice calls his attention back to the room. “Maybe you should go, Daniel.”
“Me?” he spits with real resentment, taking a step away from me. “Are you serious?”
The sound of a toilet flushing somewhere in the house is a relief. I don’t know who this Daniel guy is to the family, but the way he feels entitled to bully and intimidate everyone tells me the sooner Rosa and I are away from here the better.