“Are you packed?” he asks.
The beach is crowded. Penelope and Aaron walked off to buy something at the kiosk. It’s almost time for lunch. The sun is hidden behind large clouds. There is a slight threat of rain. Penelope wanted to cancel today’s outing, but I convinced her not to.
“Almost,” I say.
Pheus sits on the cooler and tunes his new guitar. Jaysen swears up and down it was donated by an anonymous fan who saw Pheus perform at Dīs-traction. Pheus doesn’t believe him. He thinks Jaysen forced the owner, Sileno, to cough up the dough. I also heard they did other things to him too, worse than just forcing him to open his wallet. Pheus didn’t press for details, and neither did I.
I look over Pheus’s application for the music program on a borrowed iPad. I’m reading his essay, which he titled “The History of My Lamentations.” He writes about bachata music and its connection to the Dominican Republic. How this music has traveled from an island to this city. My favorite part is when he breaks down the lyrics to his song, the one he performs in the video he’s sending in. My song.
I’m sure Pheus will be accepted into the program. The only obstacle will be convincing his mother to go along with it.
“What time is your flight?”
“You’ve asked me that three times already.” I laugh. “We leave early tomorrow. Mami wants to get me on a schedule. My first appointment is on Monday.”
In the past few weeks, I’ve met with a therapist. It was scary at first, speaking to a stranger. A part of me understands how it will help, and another part still feels I must stick to hiding my problems. But I like her. She’s Panamanian and has a calm demeanor, one free of judgment. Convincing Mami to let me see her hasn’t been easy. But two days after I woke up, we sat down and spoke. It was so hard to be honest with her. She didn’t want to hear about my torment and how I can no longer continue on my own.
“All you need is faith in God,” she said as she tried hard to contain her emotions.
“That’s not enough, Mami. I need both faith and professional help,” I said. “I’ve been sad for so long, ever since Papi left. And after what happened during the hurricane, I need to find a way of dealing with my anxiety. I don’t know how to do it by myself.”
She shook her head. “They’re going to give you drugs, and you won’t be the same person.” I recalled the images of her so young, hiding under the covers, unable to cope. I wished I could tell her what I saw. Instead, I tried again.
“We need help to deal with this heaviness. Don’t you feel it?” I said. “I felt it in Puerto Rico and in Florida. I don’t want to continue carrying this. We can find a therapist who can understand where I’m coming from, perhaps someone from the island. Please, Mami, let’s try.”
The conversation lasted a long time. There were many tears. Mami is scared. So am I. But I can see Mami’s opinion shifting, and that gives me hope. It’s not a complete one-eighty, but it helps that the therapist speaks Spanish. We have appointments to see someone in Florida too. It’s a big step, for both of us.
Pheus stops fiddling around with his guitar and smiles at me.
I haven’t seen or heard from Ato. My vigilance is still very much real. At the first sign of rain, the shakes begin, then the cold sweats. My instinct is to hide. To run. Even while I sit here, I can’t help but keep careful watch of the increasing clouds. The therapist should be able to help me with this. It will take time, but I’m ready to take it.
“Hey,” Pheus sits beside me. “What can I do?”
The issue isn’t the lack of help from the people who care for me. Sometimes the answer isn’t a simple statement. Do this and I will feel better. Say this word and I will return to acting “normal.” There is no such thing as normal or a magical fix. Solutions can be found in a combination of things—talking to a therapist, medication, and incorporating tips to help with my anxiety. It’s hard for Pheus. As with history, he thinks he can predict the outcome.
What is the opposite of predictability?
“Keep playing the guitar.”
He leans in and pecks my cheek. Pheus hasn’t left my side, even after Penelope’s father threatened to kick his ass. After a while, my family accepted him.
Jaysen arrives, talking loudly on his phone. The others are not too far away. Melaina and her friends. Conga players. They want Pheus to join them. He hasn’t committed. Jaysen has been traveling between both camps, trying to keep everyone happy.
“A sweet sixteen party in September. What do you think? The pay isn’t much, but it’s a start. Plus, they want to livestream the whole thing.”
“’Chacho, ¿tú no paras?” Pheus asks, slightly annoyed.
“Can’t stop. Won’t stop,” Jaysen says. “Besides, I’m sure Eury wants to see you performing. Keep an eye on you. Make sure you on key. Am I right?”
Each night, Pheus plays a song for me. He has been trying to translate the lyrics to Prince’s slow jams into Spanish. Change them up into a bachata. We’ve spent hours going over one song, and I still don’t think it’s quite right. Pheus thinks I’m too much of a perfectionist, but verses are not meant to be so literal. Symbolism is way more important.
I sweep my curtain of hair to one side. Although the sun is hidden, it is still very hot.
Penelope and Aaron soon return.
“Prima, can you braid my hair?” I ask. Penelope sits behind me, her knees pressing against me. Facing the ocean, she takes her time. My hair is so long.
“Remember when I used to do this for you when we were kids?” she says. “You were my practice.”
“I cried that one time when you pulled my hair way too hard.”
“That was because you didn’t want to share your coconut candy with me.”
“Mala.” I nudge her. Penelope promises to come visit me for Thanksgiving. Tampa isn’t too far away. I wish I could take them all with me in my luggage, especially Pheus.
The plan is for Mami and me to go to Puerto Rico for Christmas with Penelope and her family. I know it’s asking too much for Pheus to join us as well. Besides, he will be busy with school and other obligations. There is no money for a trip.
I have my own intentions, things I want to do. Besides taking care of myself, I want to find a way to return to the island. It’s why Mom and I are visiting for Christmas. Florida doesn’t feel right, and neither does the Bronx. I’ve started to think of what I want to do after high school, what I want to do in Puerto Rico. For the first time in a long time, I am thinking of the future. My ideal life is not fully fleshed out in my head, but there is the hint of possibility. What will Puerto Rico become for me? I get to shape what that looks like. Although I’m afraid, I’m also excited.
Pheus’s father came to visit me in the hospital and gave me a book: Puerto Rico mío, a collection of photographs by a famous photographer, Jack Delano. On the cover is a close-up of a young girl who is about eight years old. There is something about her that reminds me of Ato. A sadness in her eyes. At first, I didn’t want to accept the gift because the resemblance seemed too real. Too painful.
“You have to know your history before you can move forward,” he said. “Some people say dwelling in the past can be a crutch, but you can’t ignore it either. There has to be a fine balance.”
I thanked him for the book. It really is a beautiful tribute to my home. Pheus says his father is still working with the movers and still pining for his mother. This is a topic that hurts Pheus, but he is trying to accept it.
“How long before you sing a damn song?” Jaysen says, loud enough so the families near us laugh along.
Pheus rolls his eyes. He plucks a fast bachata on his guitar, one meant to be danced close to your partner. The song he sings is “Donde Estará,” by Antony Santos. A song of a man looking for his woman, asking where his “dulce mujer” is.
As soon as he starts, Penelope and Aaron get up. Their bare feet shuffle against the sand. Aaron is a great dancer. He learned over the summer as a way to draw Penelope closer to him. She loves it.
“C’mon, Eury.”
Jaysen grabs my hand, and we join in on the dancing. Like his talking, Jaysen’s moves are choppy and quick. He spends most of the time twirling me around, which is difficult on the sand, but we manage. With each spin, I search for Pheus. His laughter makes him miss a verse, so he begins again. No one seems to mind.
Pheus sings another song, and we keep dancing. The other families listen. A baby in diapers starts jumping up and down, and his family takes a video of it. He is pure joy.
After a third song, I am completely out of breath. No more dancing in circles. My head is still not right, what with the stitches.
Jaysen starts dancing with the mother of the baby. My stomach hurts from laughing.
If only this could last forever. I concentrate and take a mental picture of how Pheus’s fingers pull at the strings of the guitar. How he leans forward when he wants to emphasize a verse. How Penelope squeals every time Aaron turns her. How the baby claps his tiny hands together. He has found his own rhythm.
When Pheus stops, the small crowd cheers and thanks him.
From across the way, we hear rap music pulsing from a speaker.
“Yo, they playing the new one.”
Jaysen goes back to the other section, promising to return in a bit.
“We will be back.” Penelope and Aaron join Jaysen, wanting to keep the dance party going.
I lie on my back. There is another dark cloud joining the others. Will it be enough to make it rain? I practice my breathing exercises.
With Pheus beside me, the anxiety quells but only slightly. He is not my medicine. I have to figure this out on my own, and that is not a bad thing. Instead of facing the sky, I turn my body toward him. He does the same.
“Aaron said he’ll drive me to the airport. We’ll follow your uncle’s car.”
I knew he would figure out a way to prolong this goodbye.
I search for his hands. His rough fingertips lightly caress my skin. Our fingers intertwine.
When I close my eyes, I can see us both back on my island. My house is still intact. The llorosas are up in the tree. Each branch taken over by the tiny birds. They keep us company, vigilant over us. In this vision, Pheus and I are eager to see what we will discover. All around us, families are rebuilding. There is an outpouring of energy, excitement for what’s to come.
Pheus tugs at my hand.
“Hey,” he says, lightly kissing my forehead. “Where did you go?”
“Not far,” I say. “I will describe it so you, too, can see what I see.”
He closes his eyes. I lean on him and whisper this vision of us in his ear.