Her attacker swung a punch through the air at one of the men who had come to her rescue, but because he ducked, it only grazed his arm.

“Go on … Go on, get outta here!” the new arrival yelled defiantly in her attacker’s face. Both of the men stood ready for a fight. Instead of taking them on, the first man ran. “Go on, get outta here!” the man yelled again, hoping the words would chase him even further from where they stood.

He reached down toward Aria. “Hey, you OK, miss?” he asked in a heavy Mexican accent. “You’re cut up pretty bad.”

Aria let him pull her up to standing position and she adjusted her clothes, which had been twisted by the scuffle. She was too shocked to respond. Her body started to process the trauma by shaking.

“Hey, you need to call somebody?” he asked, still holding her arm and worried. Aria shook her head no. “Hey, I know somebody who could help,” the man said, still waiting for any verbal sign from Aria.

Aria wanted to run away from this place. She wanted to take care of the aftermath herself and unburden the men who had come to her aid. But she thought about the fact that should any concerned passerby or cop drive past her, a bloody face would draw attention to herself, which just might land her in more trouble than she was already in. So she said “OK,” expecting them to point her in the direction of whatever place they were about to suggest. Instead, the man began to lead her away from the building and down the street. The other man followed them at a short distance, looking less than thrilled by the idea of leaving the opportunities they might miss at the Home Depot parking lot.

“I’m Pedro,” the man eventually said, pointing to himself. “This is my brother Consuelo.”

“I’m Aria,” she said, trying to meet the man’s friendliness with welcome. “Where are we going?”

When she snapped out of the shock of what had happened, she was surprised at herself for simply deciding to blindly trust these men.

“We know somebody who owns a store up there,” Pedro said, pointing further up the street. He seemed mildly insulted by the sudden distrust in her voice. He imagined her distrust owed itself to the fact that he was brown and she was white.

The men led her to one of the little authentic Mexican stores that Aria had come to notice littered the city. Case upon case of cakes and breads were displayed in front of her. Half of an entire wall was covered with a succession of fresh and dried green and red peppers of every different size and shape. The entire ceiling was cluttered with piñatas, their tassels reaching low enough to brush Aria’s forehead.