Sunday, May 31
Mario’s family is out—his brothers on their way to an escape room, his parents at work—so I came over this morning to his house in Queens. I really wish I had my own place so I could have sex with my potential boyfriend whenever I want. Still, catching up with Mario after him being away was a really, really great way to start the day.
I shower alone, generously using his bodywash to keep that Mario smell around me a little longer. When I come out of the bathroom, Mario surprises me with a plate of scrambled eggs and a smiley face drawn in ketchup.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Late breakfast,” Mario says. “Eat up.”
I follow him back into his bedroom, which is the basement he shares with one of his brothers. It’s definitely a man cave down here with gaming consoles, a beat-up couch guests use when they spend the night, minifridge for his brother’s Snapple addiction, and a fifty-inch TV. Mario’s workshop table where he makes his shirts is close by. I sit on his bed, where we’ve eaten a few meals together before, but it’s usually something his parents cooked or that we ordered in. I know it’s just scrambled eggs with McDonald’s packet ketchup, but it was a choice he made. To take care of me.
“You’re in a good mood,” I say.
“How could I not be after all that?” Mario says, tossing my condom into his trash and burying it under rejected sketches for shirt designs. “I don’t know, Alejo, I finally feel like I’m finding myself. It’s like I’m getting closer and closer to becoming someone I’ve wanted to believe so badly wasn’t some stupid dream.”
“That also thanks to me or your trip?”
Mario leans in and kisses me. “Both. I wanted to talk to you about everything last night actually, but we didn’t have the time.”
“Sorry, I wouldn’t have brought you to over to Arthur’s if I knew.”
“No apologies necessary. I had so much fun.” Mario sits down. “I’ve been having a lot of fun with you especially.”
“Same.” My heart is pounding. I think this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“I like you more than I’ve liked my past boyfriends, Alejo. No disrespect to them, but they don’t hold a candle to you. Tú eres amable. Tú eres bastante guapo. Tú corazón lo es todo.”
I’m kind.
I’m really handsome.
My heart is everything.
No matter how much time I’ve spent alone building up my self-worth, I still welcome Mario’s words about how much I mean to him. I believe him when he says my heart is everything.
“How do I say ‘Are you trying to make me cry?’ in Spanish?”
Mario smiles.
I grab his hand. “You’re one of the most generous souls I know. And you’re pretty damn handsome yourself.”
“I seriously wish I’d started talking to you the moment you stepped into the classroom.”
I’m glad he didn’t. I was still deep in my feelings for Arthur and needed more time to open myself up to someone new.
“Everything in its own time,” I say.
Mario stares at our held hands. “Except I messed up by not acting sooner. Something has come up that’s pretty exciting.”
I’m tempted to let go of him, nervous what he’s about to share. “Okay…”
“So Hector, that writer I met in LA? He shared his document for his android series so I could see what a proper pitch package looks like. It was so cool, and I was sold on the premise. But I thought his younger characters needed some work, and I gave him some ideas. Hector actually went and rewrote some scenes and said they shined brighter.”
“That’s amazing,” I say.
I’m still waiting for the gut punch.
“Hector isn’t sure if a network will buy the pitch yet, but if they do, he wants to hire me as his writer’s assistant.”
“That’s so awesome—” I stop when I realize what he’s saying. “The job isn’t in New York.”
He doesn’t look up at me. “It would be in LA.”
“You think you would go?”
“I would definitely go.”
This is the kind of news that people ask you if you’re sitting first before they tell you.
Why does everything have to be so damn hard for me? I’ve waited years to find someone right for me, he’s finally confessing his deep feelings for me, and now he’s ready to leave? It’s shit like this that makes me not want to believe in the power of the universe. I keep meeting incredible people in this city who leave me behind and go on to lead better lives.
“What about college?” I ask. I know it’s grasping at straws, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to stay for me.
“I’d be getting paid to learn in a real writers’ room instead of paying the school to teach me.”
“When would you know? If the show is getting picked up?”
“Maybe in the next couple of weeks.”
“Weeks. Wow.” He could be gone so soon. “Mario, are you sure you’re not riding some high after all that LA sunshine?”
Mario finally looks me in the eye. “I think there’s a version of me in LA that will be happier than I am now. That’s worth chasing. Do you think you’re at your happiest here?”
“No. I haven’t been for a while. But you’ve made it better.”
“And apart from my brothers, I’ll miss you the most. You’re one of a kind, Alejo. I think you would like LA.”
“I don’t have LA money or an uncle with a guesthouse.”
“But you have a Mario who does. Maybe you could stay with me sometime?”
I don’t know how to respond to that. The whole sentiment makes me feel like we’ve been dating the entire time and I zoned out when we made it official because I was too busy staring into his hazel eyes.
“Say something,” Mario says.
This is a lot to take in right now. “I’m just thinking about everything I’m about to lose,” I say. I can practically feel his lips on mine, the comfort of his head on my shoulder, the swelling pride whenever I understand him in Spanish.
“Hey, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about and Hector’s script actually sucks,” Mario says. “Then I won’t go anywhere.”
“I want you to win at life,” I say. “Even if it means missing you.”
“Don’t miss me yet,” Mario says.
He leans in for a kiss, and as much as I want to step back to protect my heart, I welcome his lips—because I know they’ll be on the other side of the country soon.