—What were you guys doing out here? the tow truck guy said.
Neither of us answered because we figured he already knew. He couldn’t be older than thirty or thirty-five. He laughed, and then, on the way back from the bed of his truck, chains in hand, he said, Which of you two had the smart idea to park in this shitfest?
We left that question unanswered, too.
The tow truck’s lights were what attracted the police. Omar finally got the ticket we’d been promised so many times before. When I told him I’d help pay off both—the ticket and the cost of the tow—he said forget it.
—A going-away present, he said.
I wanted to laugh, but Omar wasn’t even hinting at a smile. So I kept the laugh to myself. I never thought of him as particularly funny either.
*
In the airport on Saturday with two hours to go until my Thanksgiving return flight really left, I sat near my gate across from a bank of pay phones and thought about calling Omar. I wondered if I could get him to come out to the airport. It was a longer trek from Hialeah, but the way he drove, he could make it in twenty minutes if he caught all green lights. I wondered if he’d waste time being mad over the phone and use that as an excuse not to spend the gas, or if he’d just rush over, wanting to see me so bad that he didn’t care I’d been home and not told him. I wondered if I’d have to beg him—if I would beg him—to come see me. We’d have a couple hours to talk before my plane would start boarding. I’d maybe get to hear someone say they were going to miss me.
I decided to make it a test. He picked up on the third ring.
—What do you mean, you’re here? he said. You’re like, outside?
—No, I’m at the airport.
—No fucking way, he said. So, shit! You need me to come get you?
—Not exactly.
It turned out not to matter: he was stuck at work, asked everyone around to cover for him and not one person said they’d do it. I didn’t know if this meant he’d failed the test or not. I could turn it whichever way I needed.
Eventually, after a pointless conversation about his pizza-for-dinner Thanksgiving and the Ariel news and the custom rims he’d saved for and just bought and which friends were doing what that night, he asked me why I hadn’t told him anything about the trip.
A voice over the airport’s PA system answered in my place, announcing a gate change for a flight that wasn’t mine.
—I would’ve paid for you to stay an extra night, he said after the voice finished.
—I couldn’t let you do that.
—Why not?
—Because we weren’t talking, I said. Because of that last fight about my hearing.
He was silent for a second, then said, I didn’t know we were fighting like that.
I almost said, You don’t know anything, but could already hear him shooting back, See what I mean about dramatic? And he’d be right.
—Plus, you’re probably broke after those rims, I said.
—God El, he said. You are so fucking stupid.
I was ready, then, for the conversation to be over. I said, I know.
He told someone on his end to give him five more fucking minutes, then said into the phone, Are you gonna pull some shit like this at Christmas?
I mumbled no, but then reminded him that he already knew my travel plans for that day. It was the return flight for my original ticket.
—We’ll see if I remember, he said, but he laughed.
—We’ll see if I care, I said.
—How you gonna be like that when you’re the one who comes home and doesn’t even tell me?
There was still so much time left until we’d start to board, but I said, Omar, they’re calling now, I gotta go. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?
He sighed into the phone, then said, Fine, Lizet. I gotta go too. But will you at least call me tonight? So I know you got there alive?
—I thought you were going out with Chino and them, I said.
I wanted to hear that he’d stay home tonight and talk to me, that he’d carve out a chunk of time from his boys and give it to me so we could figure things out, and if he did that, he’d pass some other little test, and I’d stay his girlfriend.
—I’ll have my phone with me, he said. I’ll pick up.
I said okay even though I wasn’t sure if I meant it. We both knew that I wouldn’t call him—I’d let him call me that night, give him one more hurdle, and if he never did, that would settle the other tests he’d only half passed.
I was about to just hang up on him when he asked, So you hear yet?
—Omar, I told you I’ve been here but I’m leaving.
—No, I mean the thing at school. The investigation thing. What happened?
—Oh that.