Ben and Beatriz by Katalina Gamarra

Author:Katalina Gamarra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graydon House Books
Published: 2022-06-11T18:57:44+00:00

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, I jerk awake. It’s a few seconds before I realize my mom’s not actually chasing me through our old house. I glance at Ben, but he’s still out.

I get a drink of water from the bathroom. I’m just passing the Jane Austen bookcase when the flashlight on my phone catches something weird. A black case with a zipper poking up behind the Norton Critical edition of Northanger Abbey.

I unzip it. My heart stops.

“Ben,” I say loudly. He doesn’t move. “BEN.”

He jolts up. “Wha you doing?” he mumbles sleepily, turning on the light. “Why are you—” Then he sees what I’m holding. “Oh shit.”

“You do smack?” I wish my voice would stop quavering.

“No, I swear to god I don’t,” Ben says, coming toward me and trying to take my hand, but I throw the case on the ground between us, the needles and drugs falling out.

Ben steps back. “Dude, what the fuck!”

“How could you do this?” I shout, forgetting that it’s three in the morning.

“Oh my god, chill out!” Ben whispers as ferociously as he can. “I already told you it’s not mine. Why don’t you believe me? Why are you so bent out—”

“The fuck it’s not yours.” My voice cracks. God fucking dammit, I am not going to cry. “Why else would you be hiding it?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just going to display illegal opioids on my bookcase, what a fitting ornament for the works of Charles Dickens.”

Ben looks at me, and there’s humor behind the frustration in his eyes. I look daggers at him.

“Dude, are you seriously not going to comment on how fitting it would be to display opioids next to Charles Dickens?”

“Stop trying to make me laugh!” I step toward him and a sharp pain stabs through my foot. “Ow!”

I look down and see why. Blood is slowly, and quickly, pooling out from under my foot. I lift my foot and see a piece of glass poking out of it.

Fuck. The bottle of wine that shattered. Apparently we missed a piece.

How fitting.

“Oh shit.” Ben books it to the bathroom and comes back with a first aid kit.

“How?” I say as Ben kneels and uses a Kleenex to mop up the blood.

“Glass is a motherfucker.” Ben looks at me, and I know what he’s asking. I glare at him but sit down, letting him gently take my foot. He uses tweezers to get the tiny piece of glass out and applies pressure until the blood has subsided. Then he disinfects the wound before handing me a Band-Aid.

But I don’t take it. Because for a second, I’m not in Ben’s room anymore. I’m in the living room of my mom’s house, her needles scattered on the floor. Blood pouring down her arm from where I pulled one out, heroin still left inside.

“Beatriz?” Ben is kneeling next to me, his hand on my arm. I blink and realize the Band-Aid is now on my foot.

“When did you do that?”

“Just now?”

“But—”

“Are you okay? You looked kind of weird.

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