Most Ardently

by Susan Mesler-Evans

  “Normally, no. But exceptions can be made.”

  “Like when the prof was your mom’s friend?”

  Darcy let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. Like then.”

  They fell back into awkward silence.

  “Do you like dancing?” Elisa finally asked.

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “There are countless other ways I’d prefer to be spending my time.”

  Now Elisa was getting irritated. “You know, you didn’t have to say yes.”

  “You didn’t have to ask.”

  “I was trying to be nice.”

  “So was I. I thought that was what we’re doing right now. Trying to be nice.”

  They had stopped moving and just stood on the edge of the dance floor, eyes locked.

  “Well, ‘nice’ usually involves making conversation instead of making the other person do all the work,” Elisa said.

  Darcy looked surprised. “I have been making conversation. I’ve been answering your questions.”

  Elisa rolled her eyes. “It’s not my job to explain basic people skills to you,” she said.

  “If you want to discuss basic people skills, how about the fact that you and your sisters and your friend showed up to a party uninvited?”

  Elisa flushed. “Bobby invited us to sit with him. It’s just a coincidence that we were here when you were.”

  “Forgive me for assuming, but crashing a party aligns perfectly with the impression of your family that I got at Hannah’s wedding.”

  “First impressions can be misleading,” was all Elisa could think of in response. Even though what Darcy was saying was the absolute truth, she would not allow her to run her mouth. Only she was allowed to say mean, accurate things about her family.

  “I find that that is rarely true,” Darcy said. “For instance, my first impression of you is that you are a proud, overly-optimistic person who’s too sarcastic for her own good. And I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “So, by that logic, you are a conceited, pretentious jackass?” Elisa snapped.

  Darcy’s eyes flashed. “No one’s ever called me pretentious.”

  “Maybe they should start. No one’s ever stood up to you in your life, have they?”

  “I don’t consider myself someone who needs standing up to.”

  “Then maybe you could do with some self-reflection,” Elisa said. “And I’m sorry that there are a thousand other things you’d rather be doing than dancing here with me, but rest assured, the feeling is incredibly mutual. I like you about as much as you do me. But your best friend and my sister are…something, so I thought we could at least be cordial. But I guess that’s beyond you.”

  She let go of Darcy.

  “Thanks for the dance,” she added, not even trying to keep the edge out of her voice as she turned to head back to the table.

  “Elisa—wait.”

  She turned around, crossing her arms. Darcy was shifting awkwardly on her feet.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. I… I didn’t mean that I’d rather be doing anything than be with you, specifically. I just hate dancing, that’s all.” She hesitated before her next words came out, quiet and mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the apology, I guess, but you obviously hate me, too.”

  Darcy tilted her head, brow furrowing. “I don’t hate you, Elisa,” she said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Elisa stared at her, at a loss for words, but before she could think of a response, she saw Camila, Maria, and Lucia out of the corner of her eye. They’d all found dancing partners. Maria was dancing with one of Bobby’s cousins, who at least looked to be close enough to her in age. The other two danced with two random men Elisa had never seen before. How they’d even managed to find them, she had no idea. But they both looked college-aged—i.e., way too old for them.

  “Crap,” she muttered, hurrying off to intervene before anything further could happen. She didn’t bother saying goodbye to Darcy.

  Darcy stood alone on the dance floor, staring after Elisa for a moment before returning to her seat.

  Interlude: In Which Charlene Overhears Some Very Compelling Bathroom Chit-Chat

  Charlene had gotten stuck dancing with Colin again. Well, maybe “stuck” was the wrong word. He’d been very polite about asking, and he was actually a pretty good dancer. And they’d been right next to a speaker, so the music drowned out most of his latest speech.

  She had ducked into the bathroom and was about to leave her stall to wash her hands, when the door opened again, and three sets of feet walked in. They all stopped at the mirror, doing their makeup. And gossiping.

  “I can’t believe Bobby has been talking to her all night,” a familiar voice said. It was either Cora or Louise, but Charlene had no idea how to tell them apart. “It isn’t her birthday.”

  “I know. And she’s not even as pretty as his last girlfriend,” the other twin said. “And her family…”

  “God, I know. I’m embarrassed for them. Even the one that’s not actually related to them.”

  “The middle sister is so boring. And ugly.”

  Charlene felt her chest tighten on Maria’s behalf.

  Option 1: Burst out of the door and scream at them both for being judgmental brats…and probably prove their point.

  Option 2: Stand here and do nothing.

  Ugh. This is bullshit.

  “And the youngest… God, what a train wreck, am I right?”

  Both twins laughed.

  “She’s a teen pregnancy waiting to happen. I hope Bobby gets over Julia or whoever soon. Then he can go back to girls actually worth his time, right, Darcy?”

  That explained who the third girl was.

  “I don’t do gossip,” Darcy said.

  “Oh, come on, we’re alone.” Charlene barely repressed a snort. “You can be honest.”

  “Yeah, didn’t you get stuck dancing with the fat one?” the other twin asked.

  “Her name is Elisa,” Darcy said, her voice suddenly sharp. “And I wasn’t stuck. I could’ve said no.”

  “We saw her screaming at you earlier.”

  Oh, Elisa, what did you do now?

  “She wasn’t screaming. It was just a disagreement. Very mature.”

  “She looked really pissed off.” There was a pause. “What are you thinking? You have that look on your face.”

  It was a moment before Darcy answered. “Not much. Just the…joys of a spirited girl and a pair of fine eyes.”

  One of the twins snorted. “Man, you’re weird. Who talks like that?”

  “I knew getting her that word-a-day calendar was a bad idea,” the other said. “Come on, Cora, let’s go dance. I think they’re back to good music.”

  Cora and Louise left, and Darcy was quick to follow. Finally free, Charlene popped out of the stall and washed up as quickly as possible so she could find her friend. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d overheard. She’d had a bad vibe from Cora and Louise right from the start, but she’d tried not to judge too much. (She’d leave that to Elisa.) But it looked like, in this case, her first impression had been correct. Darcy, however, had been a surprise. Not only did she not participate in trashing the Benitez family, she’d even kind of stood up for them. Well, for one of them.

  And Charlene was willing to bet all the money she had that she knew exactly which spirited girl Darcy meant, and who those fine eyes belonged to.

  She paused, going back-and-forth in her head. She’d never meddled in Elisa’s love life before, but that was mostly because she had no love life to speak of. Her first instinct was to let her know she had an admirer—but given that the admirer wasn’t her favorite person, was that wise?

  But they did have a lot in common.

  Those two dating would be kind of amazing. Or it could lead to the end of human civilization.

  Win-win.

  She slipped out of the bathroom and scanned the dance floor fo
r Elisa. No easy task, since the club was incredibly crowded, and the lighting was dim, with only occasional bursts from the strobe lights to allow her to see where she was going. Charlene almost had to laugh. Here she’d thought this would be the sort of fancy restaurant you saw on TV, with candles, chandeliers, and snooty French waiters. This was trendy, but not old-school fancy.

  She found Elisa, berating her younger sisters as she led them back to the table. She didn’t even know why she was surprised.

  “We were just dancing,” Camila protested.

  “Yeah, what are you, a nun?” Lucia added.

  “I just wanted to say, Elisa,” Maria said hastily, “that this wasn’t my idea, Lucia and Camila talked me into it—”

  “Traitor,” Lucia said.

  Elisa looked about ready to strangle them. “Just sit down and keep your hands to yourselves. I can’t take you three anywhere.”

  “If they were just dancing, maybe you should let up a little,” Charlene murmured to her, quiet enough that her sisters couldn’t hear. She was trying to stick up for them a little bit, but she also couldn’t undermine her best friend.

  Elisa glared at her.

  “Or maybe not,” she quickly added.

  Elisa slumped down into one of the chairs at the table. Bobby, Julieta, and the others were nowhere to be found. Probably still on the dance floor.

  “Where’s Colin?” she asked.

  “Getting a cab for his mother, I think. She looked about ready to leave,” Charlene said. “Her nerves aren’t so good.”

  Elisa chuckled, but still looked stressed.

  “I overheard something interesting in the bathroom.”

  “Hm?” She didn’t seem all that interested, but she turned to listen, anyway.

  “Darcy, Cora, and Louise—”

  Elisa groaned automatically.

  “No, it was…” She trailed off. She couldn’t very well say it was all good things. “It was interesting. Darcy was talking about a girl she likes.”

  “Darcy’s a lesbian?” Elisa said, looking surprised.

  “Or something.” She shrugged. “Whoever she was talking about, it was definitely a girl.”

  “Huh. Man, I have terrible gaydar. Who’s the unlucky girl?”

  “She didn’t say. She just said she was ‘spirited’ and had a pair of ‘fine eyes.’”

  She watched Elisa closely to assess her reaction and see if she’d reach the same conclusion Charlene had.

  She didn’t. She just snorted.

  “‘Spirited.’ I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone use that word in conversation.”

  “It’s what she said.”

  “Oh, I believe you. It goes with her whole ‘I’m too smart to use one word when I can use twelve’ shtick.”

  “Come on…you’re not even a little curious about who she was talking about?” she pressed.

  Elisa shook her head. “Nah. It’s Darcy, what do I care about her love life? Except maybe to give the girl a heads-up…”

  Charlene wanted to find the nearest wall and hit her head against it repeatedly.

  Chapter Five

  In Which Julieta Bursts Like a Fire Hydrant

  The success of Operation Eclipse, as it became known around the Benitez household, had given Julieta enough confidence to call Bobby and ask him for a proper date. Elisa supposed that if their relationship had survived Mom interfering to speed things along—not once, but twice—then maybe they really were right for each other. And he did make Julieta really, really happy.

  Four weeks later, she and Bobby had gone on five whole dates. They’d officially moved up the ladder from dancing and kisses on the cheek to Julieta coming home suspiciously late with her makeup and hair messed up.

  Elisa was happy for her. It was high time someone in this apartment got a love life. Maria never dated at all, and Lucia had only had one proper boyfriend. For all her bravado, when it came to guys, she missed far more often than she scored. Camila had had a girlfriend or two prior to transitioning, and had been on a few dates since then, but never anything serious. Elisa personally thought that this was all right—Camila was only sixteen. But everyone deserved to have someone special in their lives.

  Elisa had never actually been on a date. Except for that time Wyatt Berkowitz took her to the Snow Ball in middle school and gave her a very awkward, very hesitant first kiss. But she was pretty sure that didn’t actually qualify.

  If your mom had to do the asking for you, it didn’t count. And if your mom asked by calling his mom, it especially didn’t count. So, in a way, it was kind of fun to watch Julieta’s relationship play out.

  It was like getting all the excitement of a new relationship without actually having to deal with the stress of being in one.

  And no one was living vicariously through this whole thing quite like their mother.

  “It’s almost nine,” she commented, glancing out the window at the darkened sky.

  “Julieta said she’d be late,” Elisa said from where she sat at the kitchen table, reading the latest book Professor DeCaro had assigned. They’d made it through Lord of the Flies—praise the goddess—as well as Go Set a Watchman, and were now reading A Clockwork Orange. Elisa liked it but wondered if she’d get her literature nerd card revoked for saying the movie was better.

  “It’s not like her not to call,” Mom said, but she didn’t sound worried. Instead, she sounded delighted. “She and Bobby must be busy.”

  She groaned, looking up. “Okay, Mom, I’m happy for them, too, but this has officially gotten weird.”

  “Oh, come on, I’m allowed to be happy. Julieta’s very responsible, it’ll be fine,” Mom said, waving her hand. “Besides, if she weren’t, Bobby seems like the type of man who’d have the decency to marry her if it came to that.” She thought that over for a second. “Say, there’s an idea…”

  “Mom, no.”

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I promise I’m not that desperate.”

  “Yeah, somehow, I’m not convinced,” Elisa said, shaking her head.

  There was a knock at the door. They exchanged surprised glances.

  “Who’d be coming over this late?” Mom asked.

  “Maybe Julieta forgot her key.”

  Alejandra went to the door and opened it.

  It was Bobby.

  Immediately, her mother flushed red. Elisa was pretty sure she knew why. The apartment wasn’t a wreck, but, well…when you had six people living together in such a small space, all of whom were working or in school full-time, sometimes things fell through the cracks. Mom had changed out of her nice work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt, and she’d piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun.

  Bobby didn’t seem to mind at all. “I’m sorry for coming over so late, Ms. Bello,” he said. “May I come in?”

  “Where’s Julieta?” Mom asked, reluctantly standing aside to let him into their “unsightly” home.

  “Back at my place,” Bobby said. “She got pretty sick while we were out today. It was…messy.” He grimaced. “Being in a moving car is pretty awful for her right now, so I told her she could stay at my house until she feels better.”

  They both stared at him.

  “In one of the guest rooms,” he added quickly. “Don’t worry, Ms. Bello, it’s all very appropriate.”

  “How long do you think she’ll be there?” Mom asked.

  Bobby shrugged. “The doctor said it’s a virus that’s been going around—it could last anywhere from three days to three weeks, depending on how bad she got it.”

  “The doctor?” Elisa said, alarmed. “Did she have to go to the hospital?”

  “Hm? Oh no, no, no,” Bobby said. “It’s not that bad, I don’t think. My family has one on call, so I had him come over to check her out.”

  “Oh,” Elisa said. She should’ve just been glad Bobby had a doctor available for Julieta at the drop of a hat, but mostly she just felt jealous. Her family tended to put off seeking
professional help until they’d exhausted all other options—she was sure none of them had been to a routine checkup in years.

  The only sister who saw the inside of a doctor’s office with any sort of regularity was Camila. Starting at her fifteenth birthday, she’d seen a small handful of experts and physicians so she could begin hormone therapy. Their mother’s brother, Javier, footed the bill, which was the only way they could afford it.

  “Anyway, Julieta sent me over to get her things, and I figured I’d tell you all when I got here,” Bobby said. “I should’ve called ahead. I’m sorry, but I just didn’t think of it. I’m sure she would’ve wanted to call you herself, but she’s so sick, she basically just quarantined herself into one of the bathrooms.”

  “I understand,” Mom said. She tugged at a loose lock of her hair—a nervous habit she’d passed on to all of her daughters. “Elisa, go help Bobby get some things out of her room.”

  Elisa nodded, gesturing for him to follow her.

  “Jules mentioned you two share a room,” he said, as they stepped inside. “I’m going to guess that… this side is hers.” He pointed to the neater, cleaner, more aesthetically pleasing side of the room.

  “Correct,” Elisa said, stepping over the pile of books she had on the floor next to her bed. “We share the closet, but she got some colored hangers, so we can tell whose clothes are whose. Hers are pink, mine are blue.”

  “She’s very organized, isn’t she?” he said.

  “She has to be. Oldest of five, running her own business—if she didn’t have some system to keep things straight, she’d go insane.”

  Bobby reached to unplug Julieta’s laptop and put it into its case. “Speaking of her business…do you think there’s any way I can talk her out of working while she’s sick?”

  She let out a lovingly exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “Nope. Last year when we all got the flu, she was working on her latest client’s request while curled up in six blankets and drinking hot tea.”

  “I believe it. She was still throwing up when I came over here, and when I asked if there was anything specific from home she’d like to have, she just said ‘bring my laptop and work spreadsheets’ in between heaves.”