Don't Date Rosa Santos

by Nina Moreno

  The boom shot past, and the sail caught as everything shifted. My heart was still somewhere behind us. Alex was laughing as we sailed past a few other boats. Still hunched down, I glanced over the edge cautiously.

  “You can sit up,” he called to me.

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” I shouted back and held on as the boat bounced and hit along waves, sending water over the front of the boat. “Is that okay?” Water pooled at my feet. “Is this okay?” I screamed louder, gesturing wildly at the deck.

  Alex leaned over to check. “Yes, that’s fine, Rosa.” He glanced up and then, without warning, shouted, “Go!” again.

  I threw myself to the floor as we did the awful attacking thing again. Once the boom was stable, I got up from my graceful belly flop into two inches of water, and returned, soaking wet, to the bench.

  From behind the wheel, I could see Alex chuckling.

  “Okay, next,” he called. “We’re going to make a hard right turn, and go around that orange buoy.” He pointed it out in the distance. “The wind up there is coming from a different direction, so when we turn I need you to come over and sit on this side and—” He paused, looking like he regretted his next words. “Hang your feet over the edge.”

  “Of the boat?”

  “Yes. It’s fine, I swear. Just to balance us out.”

  I was going to die today. There were no other options. This boat was going to make some death trap of a turn, and I needed to go hang off it. Like a woman condemned, I ducked under the boom and went to the other side. I crossed myself and sat on the edge, hanging on to the railing.

  “Are you ready?” he called.

  “No,” I shouted, then muttered, “but that’s never stopped me before.”

  “Turning!”

  I screamed as my side of the boat rose from the water. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sharp wind pummeling me. Shouts rang out from nearby boats, and my eyes flew open to check they weren’t yelling that I was about to die. In front of me, sea met sky as the boat leveled back down to earth.

  I hadn’t died. I was soaking wet, my throat was sore from screaming, and my pounding heart had possibly broken one of my ribs, but I was terribly, amazingly alive. I gripped the railing and laughed into the wild wind. Behind me, Alex was laughing, too.

  “Where are we today, Rosa?” he called over all of the noise.

  We were sailing and I loved it. “What’s next?” I asked.

  “Another turn,” he said. “Head back to the other side, and do the same thing again until we level out.”

  I took my spot and grabbed the railing. And this time I kept my eyes open the whole time. When the boat rose, I watched the boardwalk come into view. People were lined against it, watching the race. Their cheers were growing now that we were close to the end. There were only four boats ahead of us. Somehow we had passed eight others.

  We sailed past another. I couldn’t help it; I cheered, too.

  “Where’s the finish line?” I called to Alex.

  He pointed with his outstretched left arm. “Over there where we started.”

  The starting line was pretty close to the left of us, and yet we weren’t headed there. “If that’s the finish line, why are we going away from it?”

  “We have one more buoy,” he explained.

  In the wildest twist of fate yet, I was excited to do it again. I watched the three boats in front of us and realized the leader missed the buoy.

  “They’re going to have to circle around again,” Alex explained.

  “So we might pass them?” I asked.

  Alex laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised the competitive spirit got you by the third tack.”

  Up ahead, the next two boats were rounding the buoy. From our vantage point, we were able to watch them go around the mark. Alex said, “After the turn, we’re going to have to zigzag to the finish line, because we can’t go—”

  “Into the wind,” I finished as I pulled my legs back in and righted myself on the bench.

  As we watched the two leaders turn toward the finish line and start their own zigzag, Alex said, “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  He was looking at something up on his own boat now. “The wind shifted. Look at their sails.” They were flapping erratically. “They have no wind,” Alex went on.

  “What does that mean?” I asked, and his grin sharpened. He looked the way I’d felt when I found the Golden Turtle beneath my foot.

  “It means we could win.”

  Alex turned us around the last buoy, and instead of tacking like the others, he adjusted course for a nearly straight shot to the finish line. He did his cat’s-cradle dance with the lines around him, and we sailed past the other two boats. Feedback squealed from a megaphone as the name of a boat that sounded like Wallflower was called.

  “We won!” I shouted, then put together what the announcer had just said. “Wait. What did he just call you?”

  Alex was grinning as he spun the wheel. “The name of my boat. My family has always teased me for being the quiet baker, so I named it the Wallflour.”

  “That is the most delightful thing I’ve ever heard,” I told him and sidled up close.

  “You were amazing,” he said proudly and slipped an arm around my shoulder. He pulled me against him and dropped a hard, grateful kiss on my lips. When he pulled back, it was like looking at the north star.

  “I was amazing,” I agreed, awed. The crisp turquoise morning was melting beneath the midday sun as we docked. When I pulled away I couldn’t help but glance at our bench, the one we’d sat on the night I’d come to the marina.

  Mimi sat there, watching us.

  A curse slipped past my lips in Spanish. Mimi’s eyes narrowed like she’d heard it.

  “I have to go,” I told Alex and turned to search for my backpack. But I hadn’t brought it. I was still in my gardening clothes. And they were soaking wet. I hurriedly tried to unbuckle my life vest, but my fingers were too clumsy.

  “What’s wrong?” Alex was clueing into my panic. He gently pushed my hands aside and unbuckled the vest for me. I saw him as Mimi would. Alex wasn’t a boy. He was leveled up. He had a beard and tattoos. Here was the first person I wanted to introduce to my abuela, and I already ruined everything.

  “Mimi is sitting over there.”

  His brows furrowed as he glanced over. Realization dawned with an ice-cold side of panic. “You didn’t tell her.”

  “No, I didn’t tell her I was going sailing today with a boy she doesn’t know about.”

  He looked at me again. “You haven’t told her about me?”

  “Not because of you. Because of us and our ghosts.” And because this was supposed to be my secret crush. The one I had just been screaming and sailing with in front of everyone during a very busy festival. I was obviously terrible with secrets.

  Alex looked confused but said, “I should go with you.” He was ignoring everything he needed to do for the boat right now, forgetting that his father was out there somewhere on the boardwalk having seen his big victory. He was wholly focused on me and my panic. But I didn’t know how long Mimi had been sitting there, and the longer I waited to go to her, the greater the chasm would be between the last time I told her a truth and this lie.

  “Find me later,” I told him and hopped off the boat. Alex called after me, but I couldn’t stop. Mimi was already walking away, and I rushed to her side.

  “I can explain.” My heart raced. I had no idea how to be in trouble with her.

  “With lies,” she said coldly. “No quiero mentiras.”

  “Good, because I’m fresh out of lies. I didn’t like them one bit.”

  “You did not like getting caught. There is a difference.” She glanced both ways, and we crossed the road. The festival was in full swing now, and there were so many new faces around us, but the familiar ones were watching us instead of the entertainment. Gladys in line for a Popsicle, Ms. Francis walking her dogs, Mike playing at the dominos table
with Simon, Xiomara strumming her guitar in the midst of a bolero. They each stopped at the sound of Mimi and me sweeping through the festivities like a sudden rainstorm.

  “I want to tell you about Alex.”

  Mimi laughed gruffly. “Ay, no. I do not want to hear about your secret boyfriend now. You lied to your abuela once, how many times did you lie before? Do you have classes on the computer? Do you still work at the bodega? Yo no sé.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  She stopped on the sidewalk. Her eyes were wide. Dangerously wide. I’m-about-to-unleash wide. I stopped breathing.

  “Mimi, please. His name is Alex—well, Alejandro actually.” I paused to see if the Latino name won me any points. “And yes, that was his boat.”

  She shushed me, but I hurried on, at my own peril.

  “We went to school together but really only just met. He’s very kind and sweet, and I care about him.”

  Mimi marched forward, parting crowds as everyone moved aside for her. I couldn’t even see the festival anymore.

  “We were working on the wedding together. You know this. His parents own the marina.”

  Feedback whined from the stage. Ana’s band would start soon. I had to hurry. I chased Mimi, desperate to tell her everything. She hushed me and muttered curses, and I couldn’t tell whether she was getting more mad or if maybe, hopefully, her anger was dissipating with every rushed confession. If I could just hand her everything now, then maybe I could save all of us. Her from the disappointment, Alex from her bad opinion, and me from the anxiety trying to swallow me whole.

  She stopped and I nearly crashed into her. She turned to look at me. “¿Y esa cara?” she asked, her voice quiet, spirit tired.

  “What’s wrong with my face?”

  “Igual que tu madre.” Everything came back to my mother. It was a fight I was forever losing.

  “This isn’t about her,” I said.

  She huffed a humorless laugh, and her hand went to her heart. “¿Por qué, Rosa? This is not you. That girl on the boat? I do not know her.”

  The shot hurt. It was unfair. Was it such a terrible thing to change? Yes, I’d handled things poorly, maybe even childishly, as out of my depth as I’d been, but it had been in the pursuit of something great. I stood there, the same windswept girl. I still didn’t know her either, but I wanted to.

  Mimi searched my gaze. “You stop going to school and who is this? Who are you?”

  “I’m me,” I burst out, and her eyes widened again. “This doesn’t erase all my work, and it’s unfair of you to say so. I’m figuring it all out, but I’m still me, Mimi. I was lost and I met someone and started to care for him and had no idea how to do that.”

  Her eyes closed, pained, and I immediately wanted to take the hurt back. I hated this fighting and yelling. Maybe I was changing, but this still wasn’t us.

  “Ay, Rosa,” she whispered like a prayer to one of her saints. My throat tight, I walked into her arms, and she enveloped me in them. I pressed my nose to her shoulder. She smelled of her delicately perfumed powder and the charged note of her oil and herbs. Here was home and my harbor. Welcomed, I could weather anything.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her neck. She said nothing, but her soft, strong hand rubbed my back as gently as it did when I was a kid who climbed into her bed those first nights I couldn’t sleep for missing my mother.

  “Will you meet him?” I asked.

  “I know who he is.” We were still hugging, and I put my chin on her shoulder. “I remember everything.” She sighed and pulled back. Her smile was tender. “I hear Ana’s drums. Come back after the wedding.”

  “Where?”

  “The tent. I will show you everything.” Before I could ask what that meant, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  I crashed to a stop beside Mike, who toasted me with a neon-green snow cone. “I heard you not only sailed, but won.”

  “News travels fast in this town.”

  “Not as fast as you, it sounds like.” Mike grinned.

  I pointed at the two cigars in his shirt pocket. “Looks like I’m not the only one winning today.”

  “My prize for cleaning up at the dominos table, but these are for Jonas,” he said. “A wedding gift for the nervous wreck.”

  “It’s going well, right?” The crowd was smaller in front of the stage, but there were plenty of people walking around the square, following the signs down to the harbor.

  Mike tapped his cigars. “Luck’s on our side today.”

  Good luck usually didn’t want anything to do with me and mine, but I hoped he was right. The band walked out onto the stage and took their places. “Welcome to Spring Fest, y’all,” Tyler screamed into the microphone.

  Mike rubbed his left ear. Paula came over to us and jerked her thumb at the stage. “Who is that joker?”

  “Tyler Moon,” I told her. “Are you here for Ana?”

  She heaved a sigh. She wore a white crop top and her pants were bright blue with a flattering high waist. “I’m not much for this hipster music, but family is family.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed. I followed her bold lead and did the same. I was so going to lose my voice tomorrow. Mike crunched on his snow cone.

  “We’re Tyler and the Electric!” Tyler called. Judging by the rest of the band’s confused frowns, the name was a surprise to them.

  And it threw Ana. The beat was off. The song started without her, and she fumbled forward. Not knowing what else to do, I started to dance.

  “What are you doing?” Paula asked after some of my best moves.

  “I’m offended you have to ask.” I knew they were playing popular covers, but I didn’t know this song. I really had to update my playlists.

  Still, I danced, and I did it hard. I was already huffing and puffing, but there would only be five songs, and the small crowd was somehow thinning. I tried to take up as much room as I could, but by Paula’s and Mike’s faces, it was not impressive. Before I became terribly embarrassing, Mike joined me. He hopped into my makeshift circle, and we punched the air together. Paula finally gave in, and we made an awkward triangle, but we went all in.

  “Hipster music,” Paula complained as she danced along with us.

  Maybe it was the power of our mini dance floor or my whispered prayers to the spirit of Celia Cruz, but Ana found her rhythm with a clatter of thunder. There were no clouds in the sky, but the ground shook beneath our feet.

  Our eyes lit up, and dancing became the easiest thing in the world. I wanted to chase the beat down. Swirl my hips and throw my hands in the air just to feel the wind Ana electrified to life, even if it was still only the three of us losing our minds.

  Until Benny crashed the party.

  “Hey, assholes,” the charming Cuban maestro called. A crowd followed him. The area in front of the small stage filled with what I was sure were all the members of the dance team, judging by their impressive moves. Benny stopped in front of Paula and me and dropped a flower crown on each of our heads.

  “What’s up, Captain Rosa,” he said with a wink before melting into the crowd of dancing girls.

  “What does that mean?” Paula asked me.

  I didn’t stop dancing. “I drizzled the caramel.”

  Paula threw her head back and laughed.

  When the next song started, Ana grabbed hold of the new burst of energy and powered over it. It vibrated up our bones. The crowd moved like a wave. We were the tide, she was the moon, and like any good salsa song, she held us in motion for as long as she wanted us.

  “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous.” Clara paced in front of the mirror in the bodega’s break room. “Is he out there? Can you please check again, Ana?”

  “He’s out there,” Ana told her. She swirled around the room in a long yellow skirt and white tank, still buzzing from her performances.

  Mrs. Peña swept into the room. “There’s a pretty good crowd out there. We announced there would be a small w
edding, and folks are sticking around to watch.”

  “But we’re strangers to them,” Clara said.

  “It is romantic,” her mother said and kissed her daughter’s cheek. Clara’s mother wore her hair in braids and her dress was a darker shade of blue. They held hands and tipped their faces closer as they shared soft words. My heart clenched and I looked away. Part of me had thought Mom would be back by Spring Fest. I shook off the gloomy disappointment and leaned in close to steal a corner of the mirror and apply my lipstick. I’d gotten out of my sea-soaked clothes and now wore a cap-sleeved tomato-red wrap dress. I’d given my flower crown to Clara.

  “My abuela once told me it was good luck to get married in spring,” Mrs. Peña said to Clara. “You’ll make strong babies or something.”

  “Gross, Mom,” Ana complained.

  The bright afternoon was fading, spilling warm golden light into the room. We were reaching that perfect hour between day and dusk. Clara nervously checked her reflection again. She turned one way, then the other, her lacy skirt dancing across her dark skin. She was the sweet, tender picture of romance in spring.

  “How did you know?” I asked her.

  “Know what?” She readjusted her flower crown.

  I shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “That he was the one. That…I don’t know what I’m asking. It’s your wedding day.” I tried to laugh off the awkward nerves.

  “Well, I fell in love with this shop first. Port Coral second, and then a very dedicated fisherman with a wicked sense of humor and soft heart.” Her smile felt like a private thing to witness. An unexpected gift. I didn’t understand romantic love that lasted, but it was a thread in my favorite stories. I liked to believe.

  Alex stopped at the open door and shot me a quick thumbs-up before disappearing. It was go time.

  I turned to Clara. “I wish you the best wedding ever.”

  Clara, halfway to tears already, hugged me tightly. “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.”