In the shack, on the bench, trying to focus on numbers and symbols.
I can’t do it. I got images I can’t shake. Sounds I can’t stop hearing. And tears dripping on the page.
Wendy puts a hand on my back. I know she’s telling me to let it all out.
I do that.
And when I’m done, I look up at her, and she’s wiping her own tears.
“Enough for today?” she asks.
“Let’s keep going,” I say.
“I’m worried about you, Teodoro.”
“I don’t know what would make me feel better than keeping on.”
“If that’s how you feel.” She says it serious, but she’s got snot rolling out her nose.
Her eyes get big and she points at my nose. “Teodoro, you got a snot stream flowing.”
I reach a finger to her face and wipe her snot with it. I hold that finger up to her eyes, busting a crazy-ass laugh. “That makes two of us, Snotty McMocos.”
“Gross, Teodoro!” She busts out a wild laugh.
“I’m gross?” I say, pointing the moco-covered finger at myself.
“Stop laughing!” she says.
“You stop laughing!” I say.
We cannot stop. Wendy grabs a towel and throws it at me.
I wipe my finger off. And I finally get tired and stop laughing.
Wendy stops laughing, too.
I pick up my notebook. Pick up my pencil.
She flips a page in the book. Points at a graph and says, “Look at this. Can you define the slope for me?”
I try to figure it out, but the images and sounds come again. Manny in the field. Manny raising the gun. The explosion. My fist blasting his jaw.
The tears roll again. I shake my head. I fight the pictures. And I work through that graph. I’m real slow. But I figure it out. I wipe tears and snot and I tell Wendy the answer.
“I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to talk,” she says. “Whatever you need.”
“I need to do the next problem.”
“All right, Teodoro.”
* * *
After lunch, I ask Wendy to come upstairs to Luci’s office. I sit in the desk chair and boot up the design program.
She says it’s cool. And she likes what I’ve done so far.
I stand and have her take the seat. “Your turn,” I say.
I pull up another chair and tutor Wendy on how to use the program. She picks it up real fast and starts working on the entrances where I’d left off. She asks me questions. I answer them. She has ideas. I tell her what I think. Working together. It’s good.
The whole time, we’re sitting so close. Arms brushing each other as we point at the screen. Faces close, hands close as we sketch on a notepad and exchange ideas.
I do not feel the need to kiss Wendy.
I don’t feel the need to hug her the way I did before.
I just need her.
I just need her here.