Retrospective: Paris - How things happened

3.3. Francesco De la Cruz - Breathe
Fall 1993, Mae's apartment

Francesco sank down on the floor the second the door closed behind him.
The adrenaline rush decreased, and slowly the realization of what had happened today dawned. Together with the pain in his upper body, sharp, and very real.
He tried to sort out the mess in his head.

"Hey - are you hurt?"
Mae bent over him and interrupted his thoughts. Her eyes were wide of sorrow. The determination from earlier that had given him the strength to carry on instead of breaking down, was gone.
Don't look like that. I'll be fine, as long as you are.
He had to calm her down.
"Just a little", he lied.
He should get up and act normal.
In a minute.
He just needed a little more time to gather himself.
"You have trouble to breathe...", she said, watching him carefully.
Damn yes, it hurt.
"And you've got a fever..."
Her cool hand on his forehead, hurt.
"You shouldn't sit on the cold floor -", she said.
He groaned in pain when she barely touched his arm to help him get up.

She shrieked back and her eyes were even wider than before.
He cursed.
"I'm s-sorry...", she stuttered.

He breathed heavily, trying to relax so the pain would fade back to the dull pulse it was before.
"You are hurt, aren't you?", she asked. "Who did -"

"A while before you came to the bar, my boyfriend sent some of his friends", he broke out.

The thought of it still made him angry.
Their first hit, right into the solar plexus, had knocked him down instantly. Followed by more punches and kicks all over his body.
"Who - the crazy man? Was he there already?" Mae asked, shocked.
"No. But I know him."
When he noticed that they had avoided his face, he knew it wasn't a random assault.
"Tu cara es tan hermosa, cariño", he had heard it a thousand times from Diego. And what a coincidence, that he had appeared just about an hour later to act like the concerned loving boyfriend.
"He sent people to beat you up, and you still wanted to go with him?! Are you crazy?", Mae cried out in disbelief.
"He'd kill you, Mae."
Ese pinche pendejo.
"He showed me his gun, when you weren't looking. And he said it, right to my face, "Si no te preocupas por ella, ¿te importa si la disparo aquí?" -"
He stopped himself when he realized how scared she looked again.
Shit.
He probably shouldn't have told her that.

"You... wanted to protect me?", she whispered.
There it was again, that sad look, and he couldn't stand it. 

"I couldn't risk that he'd kill someone innocent if I could easily prevent it..."
Stop looking like that.
"You risked your life, because - ", she continued.
"He wouldn't have killed me. He enjoyed playing his sick games too much, manipulate, isolate me, drug me and do whatever he wants to me..."
Francesco's mind wandered off in disgust while he was speaking.

Mae's choke brought him back to the ground.
"He... raped you?"
Her voice broke.
And just now he noticed he had slipped up again.
"What? No, that wasn't -"
All his efforts to calm her down went horribly wrong.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter..."
No matter what he'd say now, it was too late.
Maybe he shouldn't even have come here.

"Shit. Don't cry...", he whispered. Her quick paced and short breath let him feel her belly throb against his head. Or was it her racing heart? Or her quiet sobs? He couldn't make it out.
"I'd figure out a way to get away from him again. It's not the first time."
Her cold clothes smelled of old smoke and partying, and beneath it, the sweet scent of her body.
He tightened his grip a bit.
The bare skin of her thighs was cold too, and she shivered a little.
He wanted to pull her closer, hold her tight and warm her up, despite the pain in his body telling him to better not move at all.

But she leaned back and out of his embrace before he could.
"I'm sorry", she whispered and wiped her eyes with one hand.
The black eyeshadow smeared and formed a black mask over her eyes.
Francesco couldn't help but chuckle.
"What's so funny?", she asked.
"Look in the mirror", he said. "You look like a ninja."

Mae's eyes fell on her blackened back of her hand, and she sighed as she understood.
But at least she smiled now, too.
She moved to get up, but hesitated a second. "Please get up from the cold floor. It will make the fever worse." She didn't touch him this time.
Then she went to the bathroom.
Francesco didn't feel like moving his aching body but reluctantly lift himself.

The cheap couch wasn't much more comfortable than the floor, but at least the cold draft from the gap between the floor and the door was gone.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He was so tired.

Just when he was about to slip into a light slumber, he heard her voice again.
"Take these first. They are painkillers", Mae said quietly.
Francesco felt a gentle touch on his hand, so subtle as if she was worried she might hurt him again.
He hadn't noticed she had come back, and brought him some pills and a glass of water.
She had cleaned her face, but her eyes were reddened, and she had still dark circles below them.
"And... I'll call a friend, he's not a doctor yet, but he can check you out", she continued. Her hands were shaky and continuously ran through her hair.
"No need", he said.
"But -"

"It'll pass. Thanks for the pills."
Her notorious movements stopped for a while, and she stayed calm for a few seconds.

"Can I have a look at least on the bruises?", she spoke again. "Maybe they need some -"
"No. I'm good", he said.
The injuries were painful, but he had had worse ones before and those had healed too. And he didn't feel like exposing himself in front of her so she might freak out again about some bruises.
And probably pity you even more.
She sighed, but gave up talking back at least.
"Uh - are you hungry?", she contiuned. "I can fix you something fast -"
She paused suddenly, her face changed, and she jumped up.

"Oh no. I forgot to buy some food, and now I cannot leave the house for a while - but for how long? Oh god. We will starve...!", she panicked.
Francesco was confused.
"Why couldn't you leave the house?", he asked.

She hesitated and fumbled with her fingers. Her shoulders drooped.
"Uh. Right. They won't come here, no? How stupid..."
She was embarrassed.
"They're not coming to kill you too, no?", she asked shyly.
"They won't", he confirmed. He never had anything to do with Diego's businesses.
Mae took a deep breath but didn't look convinced.
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He didn't think that any of his boyfriend's affiliates or competitors knew of his whereabouts, or anything else about him. Diego had been careful to not include him into his other relationships at all.
Francesco knew now it was to keep him isolated.
Mae still stood there, kneading her hands, and apparently not knowing what to do with herself.
She looked so exhausted, he felt miserable watching her. As much as her smile and determination were contagious, so were her sadness and worries, and his chest tightened.
"We should get some sleep", he said. She needed to rest, not worry about nonsense.
And he was tired too.

"Oh god - and the police!", she started again. She hadn't even listened to him. "We have to match our story to tell them if they put us into separate rooms -"
He sighed, and was grateful the pain killer pills had started to work at least.
"Mae - calm down."

She didn't react, so he stood up and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
"Go take a shower, change and go to bed."
She blinked her eyes in confusion and her hands stopped their restless movement.
"I won't look, ok", he added.

She nodded.
Then she turned around towards the shower and Francesco dropped back onto the couch.

Without a warning, Mae pulled off her top and dropped it carelessly on the floor.
No bra.
He tore off his eyes from her white skin when she unzipped her skirt and dropped it on the floor too. He remembered he had promised not to look.

He focused on the stucco on the building opposite of the street instead.
His mind was still so full of everything that had happened. The assault, Diego's murder, and most of all, Mae. He had no idea what would have happened if she wouldn't have been there. Would Diego have convinced him again? If so, he might have been dead by now too. The sole reason those people in the car didn't shoot him too, was because he had unconsciously stopped walking before the corner, too deep in thoughts of finding a way to get away from Diego without risking him to hurt Mae, and therefore being hid in the shadow.
He should pray at least ten Ave Marias of gratitude for how things had turned out. Or was it Pater Nosters? He didn't even know any of them well.

The water rinse stopped, and he heard Mae's wet footsteps tapping on the wood floor.
He focused harder on the stucco.
"If you want, you can take a shower too", she said. Her voice sounded tired, but the unrest was gone at least.
A drawer opened on the other side of the room.
"I'll leave a fresh towel for you on the bar", she added.
A minute later, her bare feet tapped back to the kitchen.
"Thanks", he said, still looking outside.
He was wondering for how long he was supposed to not look at her.

Her feet came closer and she dropped next to him on the couch, dressed in skimpy pajamas. She stared outside the window. A drop of water ran from her wet hair down her naked arm. Another one down her neck, into her cleavage. She was so skinny, but her slim, toned muscles didn't let her appear fragile at all.

Francesco lifted himself and went to the shower and took his clothes off inside. They were sticky on his skin from the sweat. And the bruises had darkened and looked ugly. He was glad he hadn't Mae take a look at them.
The hot water was relaxing on his tense muscles, and he stayed a bit longer than he would have needed.
Mae had worried about so many of things he'd rather not think about. He was amused about her idea of the police putting them in separate rooms to question them. That girl had watched too many movies. But he was sure that sooner or later he would have to deal with the police. Even if really noone had seen them running, he had been registered in Diego's appartement, and now he was gone. Maybe noone would come here, but they would most likely find him in the bar.
What a mess. He needed to go there to earn money, those assholes hadn't left him with any when they assaulted him, getting their payment directly from their target. They even took his guitar.
Taking a deep breath, he closed the water and pulled down the towel from the shower curtain rod.
He knew very well that he shouldn't stay here to drag Mae deeper in all this mess.
But he couldn't bring himself to leave yet. He kept telling himself he had to make sure she would be fine first, ignoring the small voice that told him that this wasn't his only reason.
Anyway, nothing would happen today anymore.
He packed some fresh clothes from his bag he had placed next to the shower before he went inside, and got dressed.

When he went out, Mae was still sitting on the couch. She lift her head, but her eyes stopped before they reached his.
Francesco immediately thought he should have taken a longsleeved t-shirt. The bruises were obvious on his bare arms.
"You can sleep in my bed today", she said. "You're hurt"
He almost wanted to object, but held back to think for a few seconds, and then just took her hand instead.
"Come", he said. "It's big enough for two"
He hadn't the energy to argue with her to let him take the couch, but there was no way he could let her sleep there after what she had been through. Only the thought of last night gave him back aches again.
Apparently she wasn't in the mood for discussions either. Or she really hated the couch, too.
Whichever, she just sighed, stood up and followed his lead.

The bed was more than big enough.
"You're not cold anymore?", he asked.
Mae shook her head, already half asleep.
He turned around and closed his eyes. The bed linens smelled fresh, and like her shampoo, and like her. It was comforting and calming.
He slipped away, hoping to not wake up with one of her feet in his face.

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Translations

"Tu cara es tan hermosa, cariño" - Your face is so pretty, darling.

"Ese pinche pendejo" - that fucking asshole

"Si no te preocupas por ella, ¿te importa si la disparo aquí?" - "If you don't care about her, do you mind if I shoot her here?"