"Patricia Moore?"

Carmen Díaz looked up from the waiting list, looking for her next patient. She smiled sweetly when a plump, short woman in her sixties stood up from her seat. Carmen then placed her back against the door so that she could enter through it freely.

"How have you been doing?" The young Ecuadorian woman brought up as she walked down a hallway with Patricia behind her, where Carmen looked for a moment with the intention of being polite. Eye contact was important.

Patricia, feeling slow under the gaze of the one who would attend to her, quickened her pace until she was on her right side. The medical order she had delivered to the front desk thirty minutes earlier exhorted an X-Ray of her abdomen.

"I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. The pain was unbearable."

The radiologist's face softened in pity and gave an understanding nod.

"Do you have someone to take care of you at home?"

Mrs. Moore sighed with a discouraged smile.

"No. I was widowed a few months ago and my children have been somewhat absent since then."

How difficult it was not to hug her at that moment.

She didn't understand how they could leave her alone in such bad conditions. Did they even know that she was not in good health? Maybe Patricia was the bad mother? Because she loved hers. Sometimes, at bedtime, she imagined a life without Rosa Díaz, without her support, her affection, her occurrences —which went beyond her generation—, her food, and she cried. If something like that were to happen to her, she would move heaven and earth to take care of her. Rosa was her mother, but also her baby. She couldn't imagine that such inconsiderate people existed.

She opened the second door of the day, keeping her free hand —as the other held the waiting list board— on the handle, to prioritize her patient.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Whatever there is in your abdomen, we will fight against it next to you."

Mrs. Moore put her hands on her chest and her light eyes shone. God knew how long it had been since they came to life.

"Thank you, Miss Díaz. How pretty you are."

The radiology technician smiled again, warmly, and tilted her head towards the inside of the new room so that she could enter first. Patricia sat in a chair at her request, since now it was turn to put on gloves and take out a sanitary gown from a box.

"Mrs. Moore, for the X-Rays to give us a clear image, there cannot be buttons, zippers, clothing or heavy fabric in the way. Replace your clothes with this coat behind that curtain," She pointed at the curtain with her index finger, delivering the gown to her at the same time. Patricia listened to her attentively. "If any discomfort arises, please do not hesitate to call me."

She followed the instructions with no problem. However, beginning to shed her current outfit didn't stop her from continuing the conversation.

"Do you have children? Sorry if I'm intruding on your life. You just seem very maternal to me."

Carmen smiled flattered, and even though she was aware that her patient was not looking at her, she shook her head.

"You're not intruding," she calmed down. "I have a sixteen-year-old boy," there it came. People mentioned Miguel and she daydreamed. "I don't know what I did to deserve him. He is a good son, grandson, friend, boyfriend, student. He even won a karate tournament last December! He used to seem so weak to me."

A giggle took over Mrs. Moore's mouth. Professionalism had taken a backseat, she saw. She didn't know the teenager, but his mother's joy was enough to make her like him.

"Is the All Valley still operating?" The Ecuadorian responded with a «mjm». "Wow. I remember when I started working as a Math teacher at the West Valley in the eighties. Karate was a phenomenon here in The Valley. Congratulations on your child."

Congratulations, indeed.

Miggy was her greatest pride. She thanked God for his life at every opportunity.

"Maybe you gave classes to Miguel's sensei. Does Johnny Lawrence ring a bell?"

"Johnny Lawrence!?" The scream startled Carmen, and she was even more startled, even prompting her to take a step back, when Patricia poke her head through the hole in the curtain that she had created herself. "The blonde heartbreaker!?"

"... Yes?"

"Oh, I think my abdomen has healed! What a joy to hear from him again!" She returned to her place and duty. "I kept scolding him and his friends. You know, being a young lady, I had to be tough on the students to get them to take me seriously. They were very rowdy at lunch and in the hallways during lessons. That's how we met. I was not his teacher," She exhaled a quick sigh of disbelief, but a good disbelief. "Tell me, how is that boy?"

The radiologist, still shocked by her reaction —although satisfied that her patient had something to be happy about—, didn't know what to say. Patricia's Johnny didn't sound like her Johnny; not even in the heartbreaker part. She had assumed that he was also attractive in his youth, however.

In addition to the fact that her interactions with him often felt awkward, no woman had come to his apartment in the time they had been neighbors, except for the mother of his son; Shannon. At least, that's what she thought, because anything was expected from a reserved man.

"Miguel loves him like a father."

What else was she going to say? That he drank a lot of alcohol, ate badly and was now a poor guy from Reseda? Her illusion would end up being ruined.

"Is he married?"

"No. I understand that he has never been married."

"Aw. I thought time would reconcile him and Lydia."

Lydia was the last thing talked about when it came to Johnny.

After coming out of the curtain already changed and only wearing socks, Carmen approached to adjust the lower edges of the coat. She handed her protective glasses and then told her to stand in front of the corresponding machine. Quiet and still, Patricia separated her four limbs a little from the rest of her body, and the X-Ray protocol finally began.

The radiology technician —quite far from the scene— was studying the images that appeared on the computer screen when someone knocked on the door. Carmen looked at it strangely.

A session was never interrupted.

"Mrs. Moore, I'll be right back."

The young woman met the office secretary and a co-worker on the other side. The second one took the opportunity to enter quietly and close.

"What's happening?"

"Díaz, Lane will cover you from now on..."

She didn't like her attitude of having everything under control, nor her face of hiding secrets, nor her tone of bad news. That's why she cut her off:

"Is it Miguel? Did he fight at school?"

It wouldn't be the first time he was involved in a fight outside his dojo. She was getting tired of it.

"Yeah. The school director called reception. But that's not all."

Carmen joined her hands into a fist and brought it to her mouth.

"Is my son okay?"

She wailed with a moan when she didn't receive an immediate response. Secretary Weisz' hands grabbed her fist and squeezed it.

"Carmen, honey, your son has fallen from a second floor. The ambulance is on the way."

She let go of Weisz abruptly and her legs gave out. She had to hold on to the wall to her right to not touch the ground.

"Miguel," she whispered, with her breath between agitated and weak, and now holding her chest.

Her heart pumped only once, muffling any other sounds.

"Mi Miggy."

It pumped again slowly, but hard.

She had to pull herself together for him.

She stood up and began to run out of the office. She didn't care at all about the confused looks or the gasps of surprise from those waiting for their turn: she even ignored the open elevator and opted to descend the stairs.

The further she went, tripping over her own feet, the more she sobbed. She tried to suppress it, but she found herself unable. She prayed to God no te lo lleves, no te lo lleves, no te lo lleves in her mind, because her voice lacked determination. Her entire body was trembling.

She arrived at the emergency room, and at the same time as her, a stretcher; with two paramedics, one on each side, at the entrance of the West Valley General Hospital.

She covered her mouth as she recognized, even from a distance, his dark hair. He no longer had the look that she had flattered in the morning, and the sports shoes that she had bought him last weekend for him to wear that day, at the new start of school, were with their laces loose.

"Miguel!" She felt her throat tear, but she couldn't hear herself. Maybe she didn't even articulate the right words. She herself had become an echo. "You'll be fine! Mamita is here!

When the stretcher passed in front of her, straight to the operating room, she managed to touch her son's dead fingers.

It was the bruised, cut and bloody face, the unconsciousness, that triggered Carmen Díaz' decision.

Karate was poison.

She would need a lawyer that proved it.