How can a day be one of the worst and best of your life? It felt silly to even consider my feelings when Yara was at the center of the storm. I simply watched from the sidelines and I damned my empathy the entire time. Mercy picked me up, Yara's parents would be bringing me back as Mercy had to go back to school after it was done. I should have driven. I should've done a lot of things.

Mercy drove behind Yara's parents, their faces had been grave and serious. Usually they waved at us and greeted us. Not today. Today we were witnesses to Yara's fall from grace and there was a part of them that resented us. They could not hide the truth from us.

Mercy and I talked about Yara the entire time to Lakeland and when we arrived Yara was standing next to the guy, Rafael. This was my first time seeing him. He was not tall and not that handsome. He was not someone I would've though Yara would love. He was unimpressive. He was dark with a scruff, and ill-fitting clothes. His car was a white Honda Civic, dropped on the ground and a Coastie bumper sticker on it. His jeans didn't fit well and he wore an oversized Polo that nearly hit his knees. Mercy looked at me and we had a small unspoken conversation. She got pregnant by this guy? Yara for her part looked strong and proud. Her chin was held high and she held tightly to Rafael's hand. Defiant.

"Rafael, these are my best friends, Mercy and Becka," Yara's voice was steady. Rafael looked at us, a glance and then nodded. There was no interest in his face, his face was clouded and troubled but it was perhaps because of the way Yara's dad was glaring at him.

Words were tight as our muscles, snippets of facts. Such as the time of the appointment, had all the medical information been sent, how long would the procedure take, and such. The clinic did a lot of other things, it was an out-patient center and the waiting room was packed with cotton-heads, old Floridians. Removal of bunions or other mundane things were performed. In the mist of them we sat, us with our heavy secret, a bunch of dark Hispanics in their small town. I tried to talk to Yara but she was either with Rafael or talking to her parents in hushed voices. I should have seen it coming, truly I should have, but I didn't.

Yara came back from the reception desk, she had been told it would be about another 45 minutes, she casually mentioned that she had provided the father's name. That's when Yara's mom stood up, crossed the waiting room and got in Rafael's face.

"You've ruined her!" She screamed and all the cotton-heads turned to the commotion. "She was my pearl, my baby!"

And she hit him, smacked him, and Yara tried pulling her away then Yara's Dad stormed out of the center. That didn't deter Yara's mom from screaming.

Mercy and I stood up, truly unsure of what to do, restraining her mom? We didn't think so. I stupidly tried to calm her.

"Mrs. Martinez –"

"YOU, SHUT UP! You're not the knocked up one! You're not the one getting an abortion to suck the dead baby out!" She had reeled on me.

"Don't yell at her!" Yara shoved her mom. "This is not about you!"

And then her mother hit Yara, SMACK, across the face. And Rafael stood up, pulling Yara away but Mrs. Martinez, tall as she was, went after them, stumbling over people in the waiting room. Her loud screams shocked the entire building and nurses came out, telling her if she didn't calm down, they would kick her out.

Mrs. Martinez then yelled at them. "Don't you tell me to calm down! He has ruined her! Taken her! She's a good Christian girl and now she won't be married! She's spoiled and done! He's used her as a whore and she spread herself for him!"

It became a gibberish of English and Spanish as she screamed. Security was finally called, a small balding man who could never stand a chance against Mrs. Martinez. Mrs. Martinez finally stormed to the other side of the waiting room, by us and plopped down. As she sat next to us, I could still hear her, the same words over and over. A whore. Used her. My pearl. My hope.

I didn't realize I was shaking until Mercy reached out and grabbed my hand. When I looked at her, I saw Mercy had tear tracks down her face, even as her face sat impassive and strong, silent tears dripped down her cheeks. I wondered at Mercy's grandmother, if her grandma had also caused quite a scene when Mercy was conceived. If her Mom had also been shunned. If Mercy had heard whispers from her own Grandmother on what a failure her Mom was and how little Mercy had ruined everything, how the baby in the belly had been hated and despised.

Finally. Finally, Yara's name was called and Rafael left, leaving us women to handle the ashes left behind. Mrs. Martinez had calmed down, she had mostly cried into tissues and compulsively read her Bible.

"I'll see you when you wake up," I smiled at Yara. I had to be strong but she looked so small on the prep bed, her big hair was encased in a surgical cap.

"Did you see where my Dad went?"

I shook my head.

"How are you going to get home?" Yara asked.

"Don't worry about it, we'll figure it out," Mercy said. "Just worry about you."

Yara nodded, resting against the bed as the IV took its effect. "I would've kept it, you know."

"We know," I said.

"Even if she would've hated me her whole life," Yara whispered, her eyes dropping.

Mercy sniffed and she leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "We'll be here when you wake up, Yahaira."

We each took one of her hands and held them tight. Why anyone would think a woman would be flippant about abortion was beyond me. As if we would forget. As if we wouldn't care.

Mercy and I watched as Yahaira was wheeled away and nodded when the nurse told us it would be quick. About 45 minutes. We drove to Subway and got something to eat but my appetite was shot and so was Mercy's. She looked older; her shoulders hunched over.

"I don't think I want children, Becky-girl," she whispered.

"You say that cause you're young," I said.

"No." There was a determination in her voice. "That's what people say when they don't like our opinions. As if life is going to teach us the same lessons. I don't need to date an alcoholic to find out alcoholics make bad husbands."

I stared at her, only nineteen, and already life had shown Mercy far more than it had shown me. Her clear green eyes looked back at me.

"You want all of that, don't you, Becka? Kids. A husband. A nice house."

I shifted and slowly nodded. "Yeah. Right person. I'd like it."

She smiled. "I'll be the best aunt. The cool aunt, you'll send your kids to Summer with me and I'll smoke weed with them."

I laughed which felt strange after today. "And who will I have all these kids with?"

"Whoever he is, I hope he makes you laugh."

×××

The respite of the day was momentary and when we got back to the waiting room I saw that a social worker had put Mr. and Mrs. Martinez in a small room and they were both crying and holding each other's hands. It would be awful to go back home with them plus I felt I would intrude on something personal, something they needed to handle on their own.

When they told us the procedure was done and we could see Yara I thought it best we sneak in before her parents. Mercy and I walked to find her already sitting on a chair and she was drinking grape juice, sipping it slowly from a juice box when she turned to us. She looked pale and broken. My heart twisted.

"Do you know if Rafael is back?"

Mercy shook her head. "He hasn't been back since."

Yara nodded. "My mom said I had to come home but Rafael was going to take me to a hotel room to rest for a couple of days."

Mercy knelt beside her. "Yara... maybe you should go home."

"And be berated by them for months?"

"You can't live in a hotel room, babe."

Yara stared at Mercy and then back at me. I didn't know what she should do but I knew she had to do something; she couldn't stay in Tampa. Her roommate had told the counselor what happened and, because it was a Christian college, they had kicked her out. Yara took a deep breath and placed down the juice box, pressing her face to her hand.

"He'll come back for me," she said.

Mercy looked at me and I stared at Yara, she looked fragile and I wished he did come back for her, who wouldn't? A dozen guys in High School would have come back for Yara.

"So, you're just going to tell your parents to leave you?" I asked.

"Yes, they can go to hell," Yara said.

That's what she told her parents and it ignited more screaming but Yara was determined that Rafael would come back for her.

Her mother had looked at her with a frosty sneer. "You wait for him; it'll do you good."

I watched as her parents sped out of the parking lot and we were left alone. Mercy had to leave, it was a long drive back to Georgia so she hugged me and Yara and I volunteered to wait with Yara. I even told her I would stay in the hotel with her and she had thanked me with tears marring her pretty face. Yara sat next to me, her hand pressed tightly against her stomach as we waited.

Clouds moved in to the Florida sky and I felt the rain coming, it made the air sticky with promise. It was like the moment before the Hurricane. The whole world knows destruction is coming but humans are too stupid to understand it.

We waited for an hour. Then two.

The nurse who had helped Yara asked if she wanted a cab to be called. We declined. Yara kept calling Rafael's cellphone but it went to voicemail. My foot shook as I watched her try again, her lips pressed tight.

"He might have had an emergency," she said.

You are in an emergency, I wanted to say but I didn't.

Then finally, to my relief, the small white Honda appeared, he parked the car in the front.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," she said.

I stayed in the waiting room, watching her from the glass doors as she made her way slowly to the car. Rafael got out of the car, taking his time, then I watched when he opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a bag. Yara's bag. My heart dropped to my stomach. The rain started, pellets coming sideways making the palm trees sway in paradise. She was screaming at him, even as she clutched her stomach, the rain wet her hair. He was crying too but he was shaking his head and then he was clutching her and they held each other but I saw she was merely being held up. I had to look away. I could never bear to see someone destroyed.

I could have called a bunch of people but there was only one person which my heart wanted. My hands were shaking when he picked up. I could hear voices behind him and I realized he was a world away from here, thriving as mine was falling apart.

"What's wrong?"

"I know it's a big favor to ask," I said and without realizing it tears were threatening to spill. "But, could you come get me? Could you come get me and Yara?"

"Are you safe?"

A sob escaped. "Yes. Please, please –"

"I'm on my way."

I asked the nurse for directions and she watched me with a sad sort of expression.

"I'll be there in forty-five."

I waited inside, rubbing tears from my face, until Rafael untangled himself from Yara, pushing her away, even as she clung to him. I decided I should get her so I did. Rafael looked at me and I mustered as much hate as I could because I felt it and it was true. He was leaving her like this. His problems were done. Yara's own body had solved them for him.

"Take her," he told me and Yara screamed no but I took her, not for him but for her.

Yara fought me for a moment but she was weak and soon she was clutching me as we soaked in the thundering rain. The pellets were coming sideways. I clutched her, pulling her to me and letting my tears mix with hers even as he drove away. His muffler sounding in the afternoon rain. I pulled her inside and sat her down in the waiting room, by then the place was empty, and the same nurse got us towels. I placed her bag on the floor next to us, all of her belongs soaked and wet. I looked at the bag and I knew she too was drowning; she too was going through her own hurricane and all she had was in a wet bag, discarded, and afloat.

xxx

When Victor arrived, the place was getting ready to close and we were the last ones there. Yara was curled up next to me, her breaths hitching occasionally. She hadn't asked who I called, who was coming, maybe she knew, maybe she didn't. The rain came in long sheets and he was wet when he stepped in, the water making his hair cling to his face. When I saw him there, knowing he had come, knowing he had stopped whatever he was doing to come to me, my heart went to him, softening, and warming.

Yara shriveled against me, in defense, she did not know him as I did, she didn't understand that Victor was an ally.

Silently, and without making sudden moves, Victor gently lifted Yara, the way knights did. She was tiny in his arms and he looked at me, nodding to the bag by my feet which I picked up and walked with them to the car. He set her in the backseat as I held the door open and I rushed in, we were all soaked. Yara placed her head on my lap when Victor started driving but my eyes were on him and, once in a while, he would look at me in the rearview mirror. I couldn't smile, I didn't have it in me, but I stared at him because he had come, he was here.

"Where to?"

"Home. My home," I said.

Yara started crying, long, awful sobs wracked her body. I combed her hair back and shushed her, but she didn't stop. She cried all the waters of the ocean in that drive. She eventually fell into a tight, fitful sleep and when I looked up I found Victor watching me.

"Did he never come?" He asked.

"He did," I quietly told him what happened, everything. He listened and the soft hum of the car and rain kept us company.

I felt something had changed in that drive, in the actions of today.

A shift.

More powerful than any kiss or more connecting than any sex. When we were almost home the rain stopped and dusk settled around us, the air was cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. Victor parked in my driveway and I let out a sigh of relief that my parents weren't home. My brother was in baseball tonight so we could sneak in without causing much trouble. Once more Victor lifted Yara up and we took her upstairs, he deposited her in my bed, and I pulled the sheets up around her. She turned to the wall and into a small ball. Victor stepped out of the room and I followed him, closing the door softly behind us. When I turned to him, he was so close to me I could smell the dried rain on his skin.

"What is she going to do?"

"She can stay here a couple of days, just to stay away from any drama but she's going to have to go home. Face the music." I hugged myself because I was cold and drained.

He nodded and I stared up at him, taking in his wonderful eyes.

"Victor..." I whispered.

I felt an awful wall of tears at the back of my throat. He placed his hands on my shoulders and the warmth of him rushed through me, coating me and filling each little tiny piece that had been missing. The glue to my broken china.

Then he leaned in and kissed the top of my head and I looked up at him, my breath came sharp and erratic and I felt the same impulse to kiss him but it wouldn't be fair. It would not be fair. He had Crystal now, I had shoved Crystal at him. He was better with Crystal. He liked Crystal and I was the needy little sister he needed to rescue. Still, I swore I saw something in his eyes, something in the darkening of them.

I don't know what would have happened had the front door of the house not opened and Mami shouted up the stairs. It was as if an electric shock was pushed between us by my mother's own sheer will. Victor stepped back and rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans as Mami thundered upstairs. I saw it in her face, she thought we were having sex and was surprised to find us there, both fully clothed, both wet.

I quickly told her what happened with Yara and when I finished, she looked at the closed door and then back at Victor.

"Victor, you're a very good young man," she said, and I saw the flush of red enter his neck. "I'll call Alma and tell her where Yara is, a mother would want to know."

Mom went downstairs and we could hear her dialing Yara's mom.

Victor looked at me. "I'm heading out."

But I grabbed his hand and he looked at me in surprise. How could I tell him what he had done? How much he meant? He meant so much that I did not yet have words to describe him. He was something new and different, something I could not categorize. He was a class of his own. He took up an entire aisle of my emotional library.

"Thank you."

The words felt pale and limp compared to what he had done but still, he smiled.

"Anytime."

I watched as he descended the steps and I felt, for that moment, that he took a part of me with him.

Recommended 90s Playlist (will grow with each chapter)

1. Gettin' Jiggy With It - Will Smith

2. Kiss The Rain - Billie Myers

3. Come Baby Come - K7

4. Tubthumping - Chumbawamba

5. Bitch - Meredith Brooks

6. Something to Talk About - Bonnie Raitt

7. WannaBe - Spice Girls

8. Miami - Will Smith

9. Ghetto Supastar - Pras

10. All Cried Out - Allure

11. The Way - Fastball

12. Walkin' on the Sun - Smash Mouth

13. Can't Get Enough of You Baby - Smash Mouth

14. Stay (I missed you) - Lisa Loeb

15. Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) - The Offspring

16. Sex & Candy - Marcy Playground

17. Lullaby - Shawn Mullins

18. Inside Out - Eve 6

19. My Way - Usher

20. Last Kiss - Pearl Jam

21. She's So High - Tal Bachman

22. Slide - The Goo Goo Dolls

23. Y Hubo Alguien - Marc Anthony

24. Here's to the Night - Eve 6

25. I Love You Always Forever - Donna Lewis

26. You Sang to Me - Marc Anthony

27. Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down

28. Best I Ever Had - Gary Allan

29. Kiss Me - Sixpence None the Richer

30. Try Again - Aaliyah

31. I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden

32. Because You Loved Me - Celine Dion

33. What It's Like - Everlast

34. Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls