LAST CHRISTMAS, MY MOM AND I went to the beach and stayed at a fancy hotel. I don’t know much about hotels, but to me, if it has an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, it’s fancy.
I have a vivid memory of a nap I took at that hotel. More specifically, I remember a dream in which a phone kept ringing and ringing, and when I finally picked up, no one answered. And it just kept on ringing forever. I tried ripping out the cord, throwing the receiver against the wall, but it simply wouldn’t stop.
That dream could probably be a wonderful metaphor about how I deal with my problems in real life, but in the end, it was just the hotel room phone that was actually ringing, and the noise invaded my sleep.
Today the same thing happened. But it’s not a phone that’s blaring.
“Caio!”
I hear a voice screaming, and in my heavy sleep, it takes me some time to determine if the voice is coming from inside my head or the real world.
“Caio!” the voice bellows again, louder this time.
Despite how loud the shouting is, what really wakes me up are steps in the hallway. Don’t ask me how, but in a split second I know exactly what I need to do.
I take one look at Caio sleeping by my side (beautifully, by the way), apologize in a whisper, and push him out of the bed. He falls onto the mattress on the floor, the loud voice yells, “Caio!” one more time, and he wakes up with a fright.
It all happens too quickly. Caio looks at me, one eye open, the other closed; looks at the door, still locked from the night before; and looks at me again, a little more nervous this time.
He gets on his feet, stumbles on something, and turns the lock, and when the door opens, there she is. Sandra, Caio’s mom. The woman with the shrill voice. My (I’ve always wanted to say this) mother-in-law.
My hair is messy, my face is all wrinkled, and the shorts of my pajamas show too much of my legs. But Sandra doesn’t mind, because in the blink of an eye, she’s already covering Caio with kisses. Many, many kisses.
“I missed you so much.” Kiss. “Your dad, too, but I missed you more.” Kiss. “We took so many pictures!” Kiss. “And we have something for you.” Kiss. “But it’s a surprise.”
The reunion lasts a few minutes, and I just sit there watching, half-embarrassed, half-happy.
Caio’s mom is different from mine in several aspects. She’s shorter, her hair is really dark (almost blue), and it probably takes a lot of time and dedication to make it look as good as it does. The way she’s neatly dressed and the way her makeup is flawless seem almost impossible for someone who just landed on a plane from Chile.
But above all else, she’s affectionate. In an exaggerated, loud way, perhaps. But one could never question that she loves Caio more than anything in the world. And in the end, that makes me smile.
“Are you all packed? Shall we go home?” she asks.
“Yes, all packed,” Caio says, pointing to the suitcase in the corner of the bedroom.
And that’s when she notices me.
“Hi, Felipe, good morning! I’m sorry if I woke you.” She smiles. “How was the break? Did you two have a fun time together?”
You have no idea, Sandra is what I think.
From all the goodbyes in the house, it almost seems as though Caio is off to Hogwarts, not to the fifth floor of the building. I bring his suitcase to the living room because it’s the most affectionate thing I can do with his mom right there. The smell of coffee has taken over the apartment, and my mom tries unsuccessfully to organize the kitchen table so she can entertain our guests.
“Can I get you a coffee, Sandra?” my mom offers, grabbing a piece of clay and hiding it in the freezer.
“I can’t stay long, honey,” she says. “Mauro is coming upstairs with our suitcases. I just stopped by for a moment to get Caio.”
“Just a little cup. To relax after your trip,” my mom insists, as if it were a good idea to put caffeine in the body of a woman who just got home at seven in the morning, screaming her lungs out.
“I’m not about to say no to someone who looked after my child for two weeks, am I?” Sandra answers, sitting at the table and seeming uncomfortable when she catches a glimpse of the pair of breasts on one of the canvases my mom is painting.
I don’t know if this is normal for everyone, but I have the power to decipher my mother’s looks. All I need is one glance from her and I can tell if she’s happy, anxious, or annoyed at something I did. The look my mom gives me right now means, “Go into the living room. I need a moment alone with this woman.”
I nod to Caio (since he doesn’t have the power of deciphering my mom’s looks), and the two of us head into the living room together. We sit on the small couch, and he touches my leg with his.
“I miss you already,” he says softly, staring at the floor.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Caio,” I answer, and give his knee a little squeeze.
We go silent, trying to hear what our moms are saying. It’s not a very difficult task; it’s not like I live in a mansion. The kitchen is right there, and Caio’s mom is a loud talker. It’s almost as if we never left.
“Again, Rita. Thank you so much for having my son over. Mauro insisted I should leave him by himself, but you’re a mother, too. You know I would never forgive myself if something happened to him while I was far away,” Sandra explains.
“It wasn’t a problem. He was no trouble at all. Caio is a very good kid,” my mom says.
“Ah, I have no doubt about that,” Sandra says, full of pride. “The problem is bad influences, you know what I mean? One invite to a party here, then he starts spending the night over there. And then drinking, drugs …”
Caio laughs quietly, and I can visualize my mom doing her best not to roll her eyes.
“Caio seems to be surrounded by wonderful people. Friends that he loves very much,” my mom says, voice firm.
“I know. Mauro and I love our son more than anything in the world. But we can’t watch our children all the time, can we? And sometimes that’s scary, isn’t it?”
“Look, Sandra, I only had Caio over here for fifteen days. But it was enough to get to know how amazing he is. You must be very proud to have a son like him,” my mom responds, her voice a little louder now.
“I am. I couldn’t be prouder.”
And Caio’s face opens up in a smile, and he squeezes my hand.
“I told you so,” I whisper so only he can hear.
I spend the whole day looking for things to do. Things to distract me from how different the house looks now that Caio isn’t around. Ultimately, I decide to start putting my vacation plans into action. The ones I had before Caio showed up.
I catch up with my TV shows, bingeing several episodes nonstop. I organize my books and designate a few for donation. I get lost in absurd thoughts about what the future holds, coming up with theories that make me anxious and desperate. The usual.
I feel like telling Caio everything about my day, even though I know nothing extraordinary has happened. But when I pick up my phone to text him, I realize I don’t have his number. After fifteen days. After some (several) kisses. After this whole story. I don’t even have the guy’s number.
Of course, that’s not a problem, because the internet is a thing. I go to each one of his social media accounts, which for a long time I used to browse like a creepy stalker, and finally add Caio. One at a time, I click all the follow and add buttons, until he becomes a part of my online life as well.
Now all I need to do is wait until he follows me back.
And the anticipation is killing me.
I stare anxiously at my phone screen every time it buzzes (and also when it doesn’t), but it’s never anything from Caio. It’s always a notification from a game I don’t play anymore, some email with a promotion from an online store, or my great-aunt Lourdes tagging me in a Facebook post, which, by the way, has happened twice in the last hour. My sixty-four-year-old great-aunt tagged me in two posts in the last sixty minutes (a photo with the caption “Have a blessed weekend” and a soufflé recipe with the caption “Show this to your mom xoxo”). And in that same period of time, Caio hasn’t even had time to click accept on my friend request.
When my phone buzzes again and I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to block my great-aunt, I’m surprised by a text from an unknown number:
I got your number from Becky!
I stare at the phone screen like a goof, not knowing what to say. Which is nothing new.
I’m afraid I’ll seem too needy, or too clingy, or too dramatic. Just to be sure, I send a reply that makes me sound like all three:
Felipe:
Now I’m the one who already misses you.
Caio:
And *I’m* the one who’s dramatic.
Felipe:
How’re things over there?
Caio:
Hard.
My parents just showed me photos from their trip.
All 1,245 of them.
I’m not joking.
There really are 1,245.
My dad connected the memory card to the TV.
And now there’s kind of a penguin slideshow going on
Felipe:
So fun!!!!
Caio:
You’re ridiculous 
Felipe:
And what was the surprise your mom had for you?
Caio replies with a selfie of him wearing a Chilean hat, with the little strings coming down his ears and tied together under his chin. He is the cutest thing ever to inhabit the received folder in my phone.
Caio:
This was the surprise.
A hat!!!
Felipe:
You look so good in it. But I’m a little disappointed in your mom because I expected it would at least be a penguin hat! 
Caio:
There are more than enough penguins in this house already.
And then he sends me a photo of a fridge with a huge collection of stuffed penguins on top. I didn’t even know it was possible to put so many penguins on top of one single refrigerator. There’s an additional shelf above the main collection that holds another collection of smaller penguins. And the fridge door is covered in penguin magnets. It’s a little creepy, to be honest.
Caio:
I present to you:
My fridge!!!!
Hahahaha
Felipe:
Very modern.
Caio:
That’s my family.
Sorry!!!
But you have to accept it!
Felipe:
I’ll accept them. I might have a hard time accepting you pressing enter all the time instead of keeping it all in one single message, though.
Caio:
RIDICU
LOUS
!!!!
The day goes by as Caio and I text. The sad feeling of having said goodbye fades a bit every time I remember that he’s literally only an elevator ride away. I feel like getting into said elevator and inviting him to go to the supermarket with me, take a walk around the square, or anything, really. Just so we can be together for a little while longer. I think this is the answer Google couldn’t provide when I asked how to tell if I was in love.
By the time night comes, I’m already tired. I woke up early to Sandra’s screams and didn’t sleep at all after that. I get ready for bed after dinner, and without Caio’s mattress on the floor anymore, my room seems huge.
I lie in bed, text Caio good night, and melt every time he sends me the kissing face emoji. It’s not the normal kiss emoji; it’s the kiss emoji with a heart.
Lying down and staring at the ceiling, I fixate on the star that glows in the dark. I think back to the first time I noticed it, the first night that Caio slept in my room.
I wish he would like me.
That was my wish to the star. I thought about wishing for him to fall in love with me, but I wasn’t sure if that would work, since I didn’t know how the wish-upon-a-glow-in-the-dark-star thing worked, or if it was anything like Aladdin’s genie, who can’t make people fall in love.
So I figured that if he at least liked me, that would be enough.
And in the end, my wish came true. I don’t know if we’ll love each other forever, like penguins do. But I know he likes me. And I like him. I always have, in fact. But it feels different now, ever since I opened up and let myself be liked back.
In the last fifteen days, I’ve learned a lot, and now it all plays out like a movie in my head. I’ve always enjoyed my alone time. Being my own company has never been a problem for me, and on the day Caio arrived, I was freaked out by the possibility of him ruining my solitary vacation.
But in all that time I spent by myself, I never really thought about the things that make me happy. I guess I’ve always been so busy trying to avoid being unhappy that I never found a way to be happy.
As I consider all of this, I feel like I’m close to uncovering some big revelation about myself—the kind of thing I’ll share in therapy that’ll make Olivia smile and be proud of me. Maybe it will even help me find out where my sudden bravery came from and solve this week’s challenge before my deadline. And then, so I don’t end up forgetting everything, I decide to write it down.
I think again about creating a blog for profound and enlightened texts in the future (I hope it will work out this time), but at the moment, the notepad on my phone is enough. My head is still a little confused, so I decide to make a list. I can organize my ideas better that way. I grab my phone and start typing.
15 things I like but didn’t know I liked until 15 days ago:
It takes me some time to come up with the last item on the list. I lie there and wait for it to reveal itself miraculously, but it doesn’t. What does appear is a text that surprises me.
Caio:
Meet me at the elevator.
Felipe:
Now? Have you lost your mind?
Caio:
It has to be now!
It’ll be fun.
Trust me!
Felipe:
Caio, it’s almost midnight.
Caio:
Meet me at the elevatooooorrrr!!!!!
Felipe:
Calm down, I’m coming. I was just playing hard to get.
And I do. I leave the apartment wearing my now-famous Batman pajamas (which, in case you were wondering, have been washed and smell really good) and wait for the elevator in the building’s cold hallway.
When the door opens, there is Caio, also in his pajamas.
The first thing he does is smile at me. The second is hug me. The third is give me a quick kiss, not minding the security camera.
“What are we doing here?” I whisper, not knowing why I’m whispering.
“I wanted to see you. And I had a wild idea,” he answers with a sly smile.
“Caio, if you’re thinking of eloping like a couple madly in love, it’s not gonna happen. Because I have no money and I’m not wearing the right clothes to run away together.”
Caio laughs loudly, and the sound makes me feel good.
“We’re not even leaving the complex. Don’t worry. But be careful. We’re about to do something illegal,” he says mysteriously.
“From zero to a hundred, what are the chances that I’ll wake up in jail tomorrow?”
“Zero.”
“Then let’s do it,” I say as the elevator door whirs open.
POOL HOURS
8 A.M. TO 7 P.M.
That’s what the sign above the entrance to our pool says. I’m not sure how I got here. Caio was pulling me gently by the arm, we walked right past the nearly sleeping doorman, and here we are. By the pool, on a cold, full-moon night, and I have no idea what’s going on.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” I clarify.
“Me, neither. But I suddenly wanted to come here. Our vacation is almost over, my parents are back from their trip, and I really wanted to see you. I thought it would be a good idea to come here and talk. It’s out of sight. No one would come here so late at night,” he says with a glint in his eye.
“Aaaah, now I see what you want,” I say, inching closer for a kiss. His kiss is calm, passionate, and tasting of toothpaste. I think this might be the best one so far.
Caio grabs me by the hand, sits by the pool with his feet in the water, and signals for me to sit next to him. And I do, because there’s no other place I’d rather be right now.
“My mom noticed there was something different about me,” Caio says, leaning his head against my shoulder.
“What do you mean? Is she suspicious or something? Does she know about us? Did she ask you a bunch of questions like I’m doing right now?” I say a little hastily.
“No, nothing like that. She just told me I seemed … happier. I had no idea it was that obvious.”
“There are some kinds of happiness that are as obvious as a neon sign blinking over your head.”
“My neon sign must have your name on it,” Caio says, and we drift into a comfortable silence.
But I decide to break it.
“It was on the day we played mermaids,” I say.
“What?”
“Remember when you asked me when I started liking you? It was on that day. We were kids, and I asked if you wanted to play mermaids, and—”
“And we swam with our legs crossed until the sky went dark,” Caio finishes my sentence. “I remember that day.”
“It was a good one.” I hug Caio’s side and squeeze him against my body.
Then Caio wriggles out of my hug, stands up, takes off his shirt, and looks at me.
“Want to play mermaids?” he says, a silly smile on his face.
And then he dives in, splashing water all over me.
I sit there, watching Caio swim from one side of the pool to the other, apparently comfortable, as if the night weren’t cold, and the water even colder.
“Hey! Come swim with me!” he calls to me.
My legs shake when I get up, and I don’t know if it’s because they went numb from the cold water or if it’s because of the decision I’m about to make. I look around, feeling as if I’m being watched, while Caio continues to swim and call my name.
Out here, under the bright moon, there’s no way to turn off the lights. No way to close the door and cover the windows. Out here, he can see me the way I am. And I can’t believe what I’m about to do, but without second-guessing it, I take off my shirt and dive into the pool.
I spend a few seconds underwater, getting used to the temperature, and when I resurface to breathe, Caio is already floating by my side.
“You’re cheating, that’s not how you play mermaids,” he says, pointing at my feet. “You have to cross your legs, and you’re not allowed to touch the bottom of the pool.”
I laugh. “Who came up with those rules?”
“The mermaids themselves. I’m just communicating for them,” he says, placing his hand on my back to help me float, too.
When I start floating, Caio gives me another kiss (this time it tastes like chlorine), and I lose my balance. I float, then fall back underwater, and laugh—not minding that the moonlight shows each and every one of my imperfections, and that the water makes me appear twice my size.
“It’s so good to be here with you,” I say, hugging Caio and feeling him float in my arms.
“I think anywhere is good if I’m with you,” he answers, kissing my neck (which, by the way, has just won the spot for favorite place to be kissed).
“Anywhere except a movie theater where they’re playing the third Zombie Robots. We’re not sitting through that again. I’m warning you ahead of time,” I protest.
“I saw in a documentary once that the average person watches about one hundred and fifty very bad movies in their lives. This was our first. There are still a lot ahead of us,” he says.
“Caio, that data makes no sense,” I answer, and my chin starts shivering.
“I just wanted to be cute, leave me alone!” he says, playfully splashing water on my face.
I turn around to dodge the splash, and Caio wraps his arms around my neck to try and steal a kiss. And then it comes to me—the final item on my list. It’s not as revealing as I thought it would be, but I make a mental note so I won’t forget:
15. I like the pool. For a long time, I pretended I didn’t, because I was ashamed of my body. But tonight, floating next to Caio and looking up at the moon above us, I understand what makes me happy when I’m in the water. When I’m here, I feel weightless.