Chapter 39
Alex went MIA after the family dinner. Not in an official call-the-police sense, but it had been four days since I’d heard from him. He hadn’t stopped by and he hadn’t called, and I had spent every minute of his absence trying to pin down exactly what I had done wrong.
“Mariana, seriously, you’re reading too much into this,” Lilly said as we strolled down Calle del Cristo in Old San Juan.
The cobblestone street reminded me of Old City in Philadelphia, only all of the buildings were either whitewashed or slathered in bright pastel paints, from pale peach to mint green, with second-story balconies reminiscent of New Orleans. I was surprised to find a Coach store and Ralph Lauren Outlet, but in true Puerto Rican style the Ralph Lauren facade was painted baby blue with white trim. It was a stark contrast from the brand’s stodgy building in Philadelphia, which I frequented so often I had the layout memorized.
“I just don’t get it,” I said, as I stared down the street to the old chapel below. “Everything was going so well. It was, wasn’t it? You thought so?”
“It’s only been a few days.Why get so wrapped up in a guy you’ll never see again? Just enjoy Puerto Rico,” Lilly said, as she flopped behind me in white platform sandals, a pink flowing skirt and a white tube top.
Back home, I never got dressed up to go shopping; at most I wore a T-shirt and jeans. But Lilly had convinced me to wear a blue skirt and tube top. (“We’re going into town. Look hot,” she’d said.) It was the first strapless top I had ever worn and I felt certain it was going to slide down my torso at any moment. I didn’t have the boobs my cousin did, but I still felt oddly sexy. I was being noticed in these clothes in a way I had never been before, but considering most of the guys leering at us were probably over forty and closet pedophiles, I guessed it wasn’t exactly the kind of attention I wanted to encourage.
“I am enjoying Puerto Rico,” I said, not wanting to sound ungrateful.
Lilly had devoted most of her summer to me and she was becoming a close friend. Since her Quinceañera, we had grown so tight that I hardly felt the need to contact Emily or Madison. I felt guilty for ignoring them, but I had a lot going on to distract me. I also had Alex. But now, given his sudden disappearance, I was itching to get in touch with my girls from home. They’d know what to do, or at least they’d offer advice pretending to know.
“I just, I like him,” I admitted as we continued walking toward the chapel.
Lilly had promised that the plaza alongside the chapel was a must-see. It was filled with hundreds of pigeons and their “pigeon tamer.” I didn’t want to disappoint her by pointing out that I’d seen plenty of pigeons before: pooping on cars, begging for soft pretzels, filling park benches. So I smiled and followed my tour guide.
“Look, Alex is a cool guy. But I wouldn’t obsess over him,” Lilly said.
I wasn’t obsessed, but I thought about him a lot. I thought about the way he made me feel when we kissed, the way my stomach trembled when he touched me; I wanted to feel that way all the time. It’s not like we had these long make-out sessions; mostly we just kissed in front of his beat-up car before he left my aunt and uncle’s house for the night. But I loved the anticipation of knowing that we would kiss, that before I went to bed that night I would be kissed by a boy who liked me. And when he pulled me close, I wanted to melt right into him to fully consume the moment.
“I’m not obsessed.”
“Then why do you keep talking about him?”
“I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to talk about him. If I’m getting on your nerves, I’ll stop.”
I’d never brought up Lilly’s snippy attitude toward me the night of the family dinner. When we woke up the next morning and the house was empty once more, things returned to normal. We went to work and goofed off until it was time to skip out and catch a movie. I didn’t want to ruin things by bringing up a tone of voice that I might have been reading too much into.
Part of me realized that I was probably avoiding the inevitable, and that I should trust my instincts. Whenever I got mad at Madison or Emily, even when I tried to brush it off and let it go, it always found a way of resurfacing. It would lurk within me, bubbling quietly, until one day we’d be sitting at a lunch table wolfing down French fries and Madison would ask me to pass the ketchup. “No! I will not pass the ketchup! God, what’s wrong with you? Would it kill you to say ‘please’?” Ultimately it would lead to a long conversation about what was actually upsetting me.
Given the amount of time Lilly and I were spending together, there was a lot of potential for irritation. It was hard enough to live with the family you grew up with, look at how often Vince and I fought, let alone add strangers into your daily routine. We were suddenly in each other’s faces every minute of every day: sharing a bathroom, eating the same meal, working in the same place. I didn’t know how I would react to having a foreigner latch on to my life to this degree back home. I really couldn’t blame her if she was fed up.
Lilly took a deep breath.
“You’re not getting on my nerves.” She sighed. “I’m just sick of talking about Alex.”
“Okay, that’s fair. Let’s talk about something else.”
We walked down the street in silence and by the time we reached the chapel the moment had passed. Gray cooing birds covered the historic street, bursting into flight as an old man in a cap threw bread crumbs in the air. I didn’t bring up Alex again that day—at least not aloud.