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The next day, as I pulled out of the Walgreens parking lot, I flipped the radio on without even looking at it. The radio barked back immediately: you’re listening to 97.1 - the EAGLE.

Rush hour traffic was always awful, but as I sat behind a banged-up Corolla being driven by an absolute psychopath, it gave me the chance to glance down at the bag my prescription sat in.

You aren’t going to take those drugs, are you? I could hear my mother say, flat yet cruel - her usual tone of voice. You really are just like your padre— necesitas estar en un manicomio.

She wouldn’t get it, and thank God she’d never have to try; that little yellow bottle and the contents within it were going with me to my grave.

In the cupholder, my phone started vibrating, so I shoved the prescription bag in between the seats and reached for it. As I grabbed it, I shot a look momentarily at the screen, though I really didn’t have to.

“Yo, Benz, what’s good?” As soon as I spoke, I hit speakerphone to hear her better.

“Manny, hey, I’m glad I caught you,” said Mercy; already, I heard the exhaustion in each word. “You’re not working tonight by any chance, right?”

“Nah, but I’m on tomorrow,” I replied. “Why? What’s up?”

She sighed deeply. “Joey’s car wouldn’t start this morning, and she just texted me and said it’s still not working. I don’t even know where to start to see if it can make it down to the shop… do you think you could come take a look at it?”

“Yeah, of course. Hope it ain’t something serious.” I flipped the sun visor down across my eyes. “You want me to just head on over there?”

Mercy sighed again, but this time it was in relief. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Um, when you’re done with Joey’s car, why don’t you stay for dinner, too? I can pick something up on my way home.”

“Aw, you spoil me,” I said, smiling. “You know, I could always go for some Chinese, but don’t be goin’ out of your way for anything.”

“Anything for you, Manolo,” she said appreciatively. “See you there?”

“Mmhm. See you in a bit.”

Less than half an hour later, I’d reached Mercy’s house. The driveway was a tight squeeze for my Silverado, but Joanna’s little red Malibu was easy to maneuver next to. I wasn’t worried about blocking the way for Mercy’s car; her street wasn’t exactly known for militant curbside parking rules, probably because nobody would park there willingly if they didn’t already live there.

Lately, the house had begun to show its age more obviously: the off-white paint had started to peel; the front door leaned open like it was always half-drunk; and the porch steps bowed in the center. Despite numerous complaints to her landlady over the years, my interventions were the main reason the house remained livable - but even I wasn’t a jack of all trades, so there was a lot left undone. If only I had more time…

As I approached the porch, Joanna, Mercy’s sister, ducked out of the house with a cigarette hanging from her lips and a lighter in her hand. Though she obviously saw my arrival, she didn’t bother openly acknowledging my presence until after she’d lit the cigarette. I knew better than to take it personally.

“Heard from Mercy that your car’s not working. What’s going on with it?” I propped a foot up on the first stair step with my thumbs curled around my belt loops. “It’s not your battery again, right?”

“Fuck if I know.” Joanna crossed her arms and took a drag, smoke billowing out of her nose.

“There’s been some crazy-ass rattling under the hood for the last few days, but it just didn’t want to start this morning. Had to get one of my coworkers to pick me up.”

“Woah, someone willingly drove you around for free?” I raised an eyebrow playfully. “Wait, you just started a new job, didn’t you? They haven’t had the full Jojo experience yet…”

Rolling her eyes, she flicked the ash off of her cigarette. “Just shut up and go fix my car.”

I whistled. “You got some attitude tonight! Cálmate, Jojo.”

“For the last fucking time, stop calling me Jojo,” she snapped. “You think ‘cause you hang around Mercy like a puppy dog, I have to put up with your shit, too?”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” I raised my hands in surrender. “Just once, it’d be nice to hear you say ‘thank you.’ Didn’t your mamá raise you better than this?”

With one final puff of her cigarette, Joanna squashed the remainder into a pot of dirt, scowling at me hotly. “I know you aren’t putting my mom’s name in your mouth.”

“I’m just playin’ with you, Jo! Jesus! Message received!” I insisted. “Now go on and get— if I need to talk shop, I’ll just wait for Mercy to come back.”

As if she had truly tired of my presence, Joanna turned around to head inside, though I heard a hoarsely whispered pinche payaso under her breath as the screen door slammed shut. With that, I was left with only the rapidly waning light of the afternoon as my company.

Shortly after I’d rolled up my sleeves and fiddled around under the hood of the Malibu, Mercy finally came home, emerging from her car with two big plastic bags full of Styrofoam boxes. As she came near, I noticed the dark rings circling her eyes, and her hair - despite all of the bobby pins - had curly fly-aways sticking out everywhere.

“Hey linda,” I said, smiling warmly. “¿Qué pasa?”

“Hey, you!” Despite her exhaustion, Mercy had enough energy to smile back. She glanced between me and the car. “You think you’ve figured out what’s up with Joey’s car?”

With a nod, I shut the hood of the car with a thud. “Yeah, just about.”

“Oh, good… you can bore me with the details over dinner,” she replied, though she was clearly dreading the answer. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!”

“Didn’t get lunch again? They run you ragged over there for a bunch of pencil pushers…” I gazed at her sympathetically. “Here, let me get those for you.”

As the final moments of the sunset eased into night, I took the takeout bags from Mercy’s hands, and we headed inside together.

Mercy’s house, like her, was in a perpetual state of disarray: a basket of unfolded laundry sat on the recliner in the living room, and on top of it slept their fat orange cat Simba; on the TV, some old telenovela droned loudly on in the background; the coffee table was blanketed in an endless pile of bills, bills, bills with a few grocery ads interspersed.

Sitting quietly on the couch sat Mercy’s mother, Lupe, practically blending into it with her floral nightgown. She made no effort to speak to me, but unlike Joanna, it wasn’t an attitude thing - it was Alzheimer’s. Gone were the days when she would greet me with any degree of tenderness; my only hope of seeing joy on her face was when she mistook me for her husband, acting as the ghost of a man who’d been dead for the last fifteen years.

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“Joey! Cleo! Dinner time— come and get it!” Mercy called out as we piled the bags onto the kitchen table, which was challenging due to the clutter. “Here, Manu— you set the table. I’m gonna go get Mamá from the living room.”

I made quick work of Mercy’s command, and soon the table was an array of mismatched plates and hot food settled at the center. All of us collected together, though Joanna was still giving me the evil eye from across the table; in contrast, Cleo gave me an excited hug before taking the seat next to me, her favorite spot.

“So, how are things going at the station?” Mercy took a pair of tongs and set a couple of egg rolls on my plate before passing the tongs to Cleo. “I haven’t heard you talk about it for a while.”

“Yeah, well, it’s same old, same old.” I swallowed a spoonful of rice. “Though we got a probie starting tomorrow, so that’s gonna be interesting. Feels like we haven’t had one in ages.”

“What’s a probie again?” Cleo asked.

“Probationary firefighter.” In thought, I gestured with my fork. “Like a rookie, basically.”

Nodding, she sipped her Dr. Pepper delicately. “Do you know if it’s a guy or a girl?”

"It’s a guy, which kinda sucks. We could use more women around the station— it’s a complete sausage fest otherwise.” I sighed. “Heather can only offset so much sausage.”

“Manny, please.” Mercy narrowed her eyes at me. “Language.”

“Ah, my bad.” I stabbed an egg roll with my fork before lifting it up for everyone to see. “Should I have said egg roll instead?”

Cleo and I laughed, and Mercy mustered an exasperated smirk. Meanwhile, Joanna didn’t care to acknowledge that I’d said anything, focusing instead on helping Lupe keep her hands steady enough to eat with.

The rest of dinner was uneventful: conversation was primarily had between me, Mercy and Cleo while Joanna and Lupe existed in the periphery. As soon as everyone had gotten their fill, I was the only one to stay behind with Mercy as she put the food away. From the other room, I could hear how loudly Lupe’s show was blasting to make up for her hearing loss.

“… So like I was saying earlier, I don’t think it’s gonna cost too much to fix Jo’s car.” I plucked a few clean forks out of the dish rack to slide into the drawer. “Maybe a few hundred, depending on where you go, but that’s not too bad. Hey, you should go to that shop Rob’s cousin runs, they won’t rip you off. They’re good guys.”

As Mercy set several plates into the cabinet, she stopped, her hands curling against the cabinet doors. “‘Only’ a few hundred,” she echoed. “Jesus…”

Seeing the disappointment in her face made me wince sympathetically. “Well, for cars, that’s really not that bad…”

Mercy couldn’t find anything else to say, turning her back toward me. She covered her face with her hands and let out a tense, shaky breath.

“Benz, it’s gonna be okay.” I moved towards her, but she turned away further. “Here. C’mere.”

By the time I took her shoulders to move her closer to me, Mercy’s hands fell away from her face, and it hurt me to see how red and raw her eyes had become. Without hesitation, I took her into my arms.

We stood in silence as she leaned into my shoulder; I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was never good at talking, but in that moment it seemed to be all that she needed.

“I’m sorry, Manny,” she said as she withdrew from my arms. “It’s just… everything feels like it’s coming down on me, between Jo’s car, Mamá’s condition— and you know the dentist thinks Cleo might need braces? And Elizabeta’s talking about raising the rent on us again—”

“Ay, one thing at a time.” I squeezed her shoulders. “You know, I got a little extra money. Let me cover Jo’s car.”

“No!” Mercy cried. “No, no, no. You already do so much around here, I think I owe you more than I owe the bank at this point!”

“Jo’s gotta be able to go to work if you have any hope of keeping your head above water,” I countered. “You get that, right?”

“We’ll make it work,” she said, as if in protest.

“Let me make it work.” My hands fell from her shoulders and down to her hands, which I lifted up to hold gently. “C’mon. Don’t make a guy beg. You know it’s unbecoming of me.”

Mercy smiled in return, but it was half-hearted. “Manu…”

Our eyes met in an unwavering stare. The weak, honey yellow wash of the ceiling light gave Mercy a halo above her head; with her delicate expression, she looked like a painting of a saint. She was always the prettiest girl in the barrio growing up, and years later, nothing had changed - not even an extra crinkle between her eyebrows or a couple of gray hairs from stress made a difference.

I hadn’t realized I had still been holding her hands, so I let them go, moving back to finish unloading the dishwasher. “I’ll send you the money tomorrow before work,” I said. “If I don’t remember, just text me.”

“I’m not going to harass you for money.” As she crossed her arms, Mercy’s pout evolved into a frown. “What am I, a loan shark?”

“It’s not harassment if I’m telling you to, is it?” I smirked. “Think of it as my birthday present to you, even if it’s six months early.”

Mercy sighed, but at last, a smile had worked its way onto her face. It was a struggle to get her to smile at much these days, so by the time I got one out of her, it felt truly earned. “You’re too good to me,” she said quietly.

As I returned the last utensils to the drawer, I glanced at her over my shoulder. “Anything for you.”

Another smile from Mercy, so tender and genuine it made me warm all over. We finished tidying the kitchen in a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the sounds of Simba eating kibble at his food bowl and Joanna talking to Lupe in the living room.

As I grabbed my jacket and readied to leave, I glanced around the kitchen one last time. “You need me to look at anything else before I head out?” I eyed the kitchen sink for a moment before looking back at Mercy. “That sink ain’t still misbehaving on you, is it?”

“No, thankfully the rest of the house is somehow standing, so you’re off-duty now,” she replied. “Oh, don’t forget to take some food with you, okay?”

I smiled playfully. “You gotta be careful when you say that. I could eat you out of house and home easy if you let me.”

“Well, until you finally get yourself a girlfriend, someone’s gotta feed you. Guys like you are just helpless otherwise.” The Styrofoam squeaked in Mercy’s hands as she opened it up to fix me a plate. When she saw the look on my face, she snorted. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen your fridge— just condiments and eggs! Ridiculous.”

Though my pride was on the line, I was never one to turn down free food, so I simply let her continue piling rice and noodles into the box until it strained to shut properly. Once it was safely in my hands, Mercy paused in front of me, and we stood there looking at each other.

“So, um…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Keep me posted about Jo’s car.”

“I will.” Mercy gazed at me gently. “Drive safe, okay?” Then, she pulled me in for a quick, sweet little hug, and I left the kitchen.

Right as I’d gotten to the front door, I was stopped by Cleo, her presence announced by the sound of her gum popping loudly.

“Tío!” She chirped, mid-chew. “Can you take me to an art museum next weekend? I’ve gotta do some research for a project and I already asked Mamá and she said no, she said I should just look stuff up online, but I think getting to see an exhibit in person would be really good for my paper!”

“Why don’t you ask Jo to take you?” I asked. “You know my schedule’s all over the place.”

“Mm…” With a pout, she shifted her weight to one foot, blowing a bubble so big it nearly touched her button nose. “I tried to talk her into it, but she told me she thought it’d be a big waste of time. Plus, she can’t ask for any time off just yet ‘cause she just started that new job.”

“Ain’t nothing more important than your education, pecosita,” I said firmly. “Look, I gotta check to make sure I’m open, but if I am, I’ll take you. Sound good?”

“Yes!” Cleo did a little hop-dance, mouth stretching into a bright grin. I didn’t know what her dentist was talking about - her teeth looked fine to me. “It’ll be more fun with you than Tía, anyway!”

“Yep, can’t wait to see what kind of fancy-pants crap they got hangin’ around for tourists to gawk at,” I replied. “Don’t they have shop classes anymore? It’d be nice to help you with schoolwork that was actually useful for once.”

“Gosh, not this again…” Cleo tossed her hair over the side of her shoulder, clearly preparing to give me a motivating speech about the importance of the arts, but before she could fire back another sassy one-liner, Mercy called out for her from the kitchen.

Given that Mercy never liked to be kept waiting, Cleo simply gave me a knowing look as if she was simply putting a rain-check on her lecture before scurrying off into the kitchen. Standing alone in the hallway, I took this as my hint to leave, careful to close the squeaky screen door behind me as gently as possible.

Back home, as I shut my car off in the parking lot of my apartment complex, I slipped the takeout box into the same plastic bag that held my prescription, pausing for a moment to read its outer label.

While it’d crossed my mind to broach the topic of medication with Mercy, deep down, I was afraid to hear what she might really think of it. In my arms she felt so fragile, so weary; would she still trust me to take care of her if she knew I couldn’t take care of myself?

Would she still believe I could catch her, if I was the one who was falling?