ENOUGH TIME HAD PASSED THAT FLIP HAD begun to think things were improving between himself and Alfredo. For one, they had started eating lunch together again, though their conversations were very short and to the point. For another, Alfredo put on the radio when they drove to and from the warehouse, which was better than the stony silence of their drives before.
When Flip had been sick from seeing Emilio killed and stayed up all night, he almost thought Alfredo was going to ask him what was wrong, but he hadn’t and they went to work as usual. Alfredo didn’t even reprimand him when he made a mistake that day and almost crushed one of his workmate’s hands.
Alfredo hadn’t said anything about what transpired between them to Flip’s mother, and for that Flip was glad. He was also glad when Alfredo took his mother out for dinners and dancing because she always seemed lighter and brighter the following day, as if illuminated from the inside. Never in his life had he seen his mother that way. When Flip and Alfredo treated Flip’s mother to a Mother’s Day meal, she was overjoyed.
Now they sat opposite each other at one of the picnic tables, Flip eating cold cucumber soup his mother had made, Alfredo with a sandwich. Not much had passed between them that day.
“Payday today,” Alfredo said.
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do with your money?”
“Same as always,” said Flip. “Save some. Take Graciela out.”
“You like that girl a lot, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Alfredo nodded sagely and tore off another bite of sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully and then he said, “Flip, I want you to know something about me and your mother. It’s important.”
Flip waited.
“I was going to let your mother tell you when it was done, but I wanted you to know first so it wasn’t a surprise.”
“What?”
Alfredo put his sandwich down and fixed Flip with his gaze. “I’m going to ask your mother to marry me. This weekend.”
Flip blinked. He heard the words, but they weren’t connecting to something real that he could grasp. “Married?” he said.
“Yes. We’ve been seeing each other three years and I think it’s time I did the right thing. I’m not going to ask if it’s all right with you. I just want to know that you understand what I’m doing and why.”
“No,” Flip said. “I mean, yeah. I get it. You waited long enough, right?”
“That’s right,” Alfredo said firmly.
“Does that mean you’d be moving into our house?”
“That’s up to Silvia, but if that’s what she wants, then I will.”
“Well, that’s okay.”
“You can stay,” Alfredo said. “Until you’ve saved up enough for a place of your own. I know you want to find some work away from here. Maybe that will come through.”
“Congratulations, I guess,” Flip said.
“Don’t say anything to your mother. And when she tells you, act surprised.”
“I will.”
“Okay.”
Alfredo fell silent again and they finished their lunches. Flip went back to work. On that afternoon they got two trucks with the red and orange markings, the kind José had pointed out to him. One was loaded with jars of jalapeños, the other with boxes filled with corn meal. Flip wondered what the ones carrying dope would have in them. He tried to put it from his mind. José had not asked again, and Flip did not want to remind him.
The day ended and Flip met Alfredo down by the truck. Alfredo put on Tejano music and rolled his window down to let the wind in. Flip did the same. He almost smiled.
Flip didn’t see the car slot in behind them, or even notice it was there until they came to a stop in front of his mother’s house. There was the sound of slamming car doors from behind the truck and Flip caught movement in the side mirror.
Alfredo’s door was wrenched open and two young men – kids, from Flip’s point of view – dragged the man out of the truck. They started beating him before he was even clear of the cab. He went down quickly.
“No!” Flip cried and flung his door open. He rounded the nose of the truck, but two more bodies intercepted him and pushed him back. There were four around Alfredo, kicking and stomping him, and the worst part of it was their silence; they didn’t shout or taunt Alfredo at all.
Flip fought to get away from the two boys holding him. He put his elbow hard into the side of one and wrenched free of the grip on his arm. They grabbed him again and put their weight on him and Flip felt himself being pulled down to the hot asphalt. He yelled Alfredo’s name. “Help! Help!” he shouted.
The front door of the house opened and Flip’s mother burst out. She was halfway down the walk when she started shrieking their names, Alfredo’s and Flip’s. One of the boys holding Flip down straightened up as if to go after her and Flip grabbed for the boy’s crotch. He got a kick in the head. Blood hit the blacktop.
“Mamá, get back in the house!” Flip yelled.
“I’m calling the police!” his mother shouted back and she went for the front door.
Flip couldn’t catch a glimpse of Alfredo. The boys were all over him. He tried to get a purchase on the street with his shoes and push out of the hold he was in, but it was no good.
He gathered his strength for another try when suddenly the whole crowd of boys backed off. Flip collapsed onto his face as they let him go, and saw Alfredo through a forest of moving legs. The man wasn’t moving and his face was washed with red.
“Alfredo!” Flip crawled to Alfredo’s side. He was still breathing. Flip cradled the man’s bloody head in his hands. “No, no, no, no,” he said. “Alfredo.”