Teófila’s Guide to Saving the Sun

by Cynthia A. Rodriguez

  “Ah, ah. It’s a surprise.”

  “Not cool,” I say as he folds it up and puts it in his back pocket. He sits on the bed and I brush the curls that fell from my messy bun away from my face.

  “You’ve just gotta trust me.”

  “This isn’t like when we were eight and we played the trust game and I almost cracked my head open, right?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Only you would remember that shit.”

  The lamp only offers a dull golden haze of illumination around us, but I see the smile he partially hides, his eyes on his hands.

  Even in this dim lighting, I can see the way his slight facial hair helps carve out his features. Like some divine entity took to shading him in sheer perfection.

  He’s beautiful; a welcome sight, even at…

  “Wait, what time is it?” I whisper.

  “Five in the morning.”

  I groan. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “First on the list: Sneak out of your house to watch the sun rise.”

  My snort makes Elijah arch one his brows.

  “Oh, I’m starting you off easy, T.”

  My lips form an “O” and I slink back under the covers, pulling a pillow over my head.

  “No thank you,” I tell him as he tries to pull the pillow away. When he succeeds, I scoot away.

  “Oh, it’s happening. And you’ll either come quietly, or I’ll have to wake your parents up.”

  I sit up and glare at him, only to see his shrug and smug smile. “You asshole.”

  “Watch your filthy mouth and get that ass out of bed.” He stands and opens the top drawer of my dresser.

  “Get out of here,” I nearly shout as I shoot up and rush toward him to push him away from my underwear drawer.

  He snickers as I try to muscle him away, my little frame only pushing him a centimeter away. We pause when he thumps into the dresser, our eyes on the door.

  “Go hide in the closet,” I whisper.

  “We didn’t wake them up,” he hisses back, crossing his arms.

  “Then get in there while I change.” I point toward the closet with more flare than necessary. No way would I take my pajamas off in front of him.

  Not when the rumors tell me he’s seen more than enough of our graduating class naked.

  But I don’t care about that, I remind myself as he ambles toward my closet. I’m forced to acknowledge his height, wondering at what point he became this person who has to duck to fit into my closet. The slanted ceilings of my bedroom haven’t always been an issue.

  Then again, he’s never had to hide in my closet before…

  When I’m alone, I grab a black bra from my drawer and turn my back to the closet door, just in case he can somehow see through the wood.

  I yank a pair of black cut-off shorts and rifle through another drawer for my shirt. The one my mom bought me specifically for my birthday.

  And I groan when I remember I hung it in the closet.

  The same one my very tall best friend is hiding in.

  I’m standing in the middle of my room, in shorts and a bra. My nicest bra. It shames me that I care.

  I glance around the room for my bathrobe, but I know without searching too hard that I left it in the bathroom like I usually do.

  Great job, T.

  Before I can second-guess it, I yank the closet door open.

  Elijah’s mouth is open, words on the tip of his tongue. Words that seem to crawl back into his throat when he sees me.

  I don’t say a word as I reach past him for the shirt and shut the door again.

  The room feels completely still as I pull the shirt from its hanger.

  There isn’t much that’s special about it. A striped crop top that I promised I’d wear with high-waisted shorts.

  But it isn’t all black. And she smiled so big when she handed it to me.

  I’m lacing up my white and black Vans when Elijah knocks on the door.

  Before I get to him, I see the corner of yellow peeking out from under my bed. I kick it away and take a deep breath.

  He taps at the door again and I rush to yank it open.

  “Who knocks on that side of the door?”

  He eyes me, no comeback prepared. Just eyes roving and lips spreading into a smile. And then, “Ready?”

  I shake my head and tell him to sit on the bed.

  A quick and quiet run to the bathroom to brush my teeth and revive my curls before tossing them into a messy bun makes all the difference.

  I feel like a new person as I rush into my room, grab a flannel and my brown leather purse, and turn to him. “Ready.”

  We turn off the lights and it’s dark, but the kind that glows a little blue around the edges, telling you the sun is due at any moment. He slips out of my window with an ease that reminds me he’s been doing this for years. Out of the window, down the roof, and on his feet like it’s nothing.

  I, on the other hand, require his assistance.

  He’s on the ground, ready to catch me as I slide off the edge of the roof.

  There’s no hesitation. Not in my fall and not in his catch.

  He cradles me for a second and I remind myself that it wasn’t so long ago that he saw me in my bra. And while he’s seen me in a bathing suit a bunch of times, those one-pieces had nothing on the black lace I bought with my own money when my mom wasn’t paying attention.

  “Someone isn’t afraid,” he says as my feet hit the ground, his smile a beacon in the burgeoning dawn. His hands press into my waist for a moment before falling to his sides.

  “Psh,” I tell him. “Fear doesn’t live here.”

  We step away from my house, heading along the side of it, toward where his car is parked.

  “All right, then.” He nods, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

  “Better try the neighbors.”

  “Uhhh…” he says, opening the passenger door for me to get in.

  “Or the chicken-shits across the street!” I duck inside his car with a huge grin on my face.

  “Woah, now.” He gets in and pushes the key into the ignition.

  When I take one last glance at my house, I swear one of the curtains moves. I almost rush Elijah to leave as he double checks that he has everything we need. But no one comes out of the house.

  “TELL me you’re having the best day of your life,” Elijah whispers in my ear, his smile nearly audible.

  My smile is nowhere in sight. “There’s no way I’m getting on that thing, Elijah.”

  I’m firm but he’s stronger, taller, tougher.

  I am no match for this boy who somehow became a man while I was busy with my face in a book.

  He rolls his eyes and pushes me, inch-by-inch, as if showing off his power. Because we both know he could easily have me buckled in that damn seat with maybe a scratch or two to show for it.

  But just because he’s bigger doesn’t mean I won’t fight.

  Finally, as I’d done most of the day, I sigh and trudge the rest of the way to the ride. He doesn’t follow suit until he sees me buckled in and ready to go.

  I ignore his easy gait, his somewhat smirk, and his beautiful brown eyes that catch the way I cross my ankles.

  “When we die and get to heaven, I’m not talking to you.”

  Elijah laughs as he latches in beside me. “Who says I’m going to heaven?”

  I turn to him as best I can. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  The guy standing at the gate of the ride tells us to lift our hands so he can push the bar down. We oblige, but I’m still waiting on my answer.

  All I get is what looks like a shrug. His arms in the air make it a little awkward.

  “What if this is it? Maybe this is as good as it gets, and we should aim for a little slice of heaven,” he says.

  The operator is staring at us, eyes bored. “Let me know when you guys are ready. It’s not like anyone else is waiting or anything.”

  I glance around and notice the people already
latched in to the right, their seats not attached to ours and angled away from us.

  We’re on the Hellevator.

  Because Elijah knows I have a fear of heights.

  Today is starting to feel more like a nightmare than a birthday.

  “Go ahead, man,” Elijah answers, his knee starting to bounce.

  I reach out and squeeze his thigh, shaking my head when he looks at me. “If we’re aiming for heaven, let’s keep the peace.”

  Our seats jerk as we start the slow rise toward the top. It feels like we’re headed to our death.

  “I’m gonna throw up,” I announce, closing my eyes.

  “Fear doesn’t live here, right?”

  I keep my eyes closed as he says this but I fight a smile. “Better try the chicken-shit next to me,” I say. It sounds good and even feels good to say it. I let the feeling of it wash over me.

  “All you have to do, T, is let go.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  “You can. Open your eyes. It’s so beautiful up here.” He takes my hand in his. “I promise. Nothing will ever happen to you while I’m here.”

  Slower than the ascension of our seats, I open my eyes. We’ve just reached the top and…it’s more than beautiful. The land stretches so far, it becomes a misty memory on the horizon. Dark greenery fades into the bright blue sky.

  Just as I smile, we drop.

  We’re holding hands and screaming so loud, our heads might burst, and I imagine this is what it feels like to just be. To not worry about people looking or hearing.

  And to be able to be that with Elijah is the most precious gift he could ever give me.

  12

  WANT TO KNOW WHEN YOU’LL DIE?

  We’ve just finished eating sushi—something I swore I’d never try—when Elijah lifts his hips from the driver’s seat and pulls the list from his back pocket.

  “Okay. We’re officially on the last fear of the day.”

  I pat my full stomach and poke his. “Will you tell me this one beforehand?”

  He cocks his head as if he’s thinking about and I can almost hear him saying no. That’s all he’s been saying all day. It isn’t as bothersome as I thought it might be. And part of me loved not having to decide what we were doing for the day.

  But a bigger part of me is still scared as shit. Elijah hadn’t let me off easy today at all.

  Between the Hellevator, karaoke during sushi, and reading all my highlighted passages from my kindle to him out loud at the same park he sang at on his birthday, I’m exhausted.

  “I think you’re afraid of the future, T.”

  We’re in his car, and it’s as dark as it was when he snuck into my room this morning.

  “You aren’t?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Not the way you are,” he answers, starting the car. “And I think I have just the remedy.”

  “You’re gonna kill me now?”

  His bark of laughter makes me jump but he offers his hand, rubbing my leg as it winds down into a soft chuckle. “No. We’re gonna see a fortune teller.”

  I want to scoff. Something about the idea seems like it doesn’t fit Elijah at all. He’s not the most spiritual, not the biggest of believers in anything more than what his eyes can see and his hands can touch.

  “What gave you this idea, Mr. Heaven Isn’t Real?”

  He backs the car out of the parking spot, and I have to look away because the sight of his perfectly squared jaw, the scruff on his chin, and the way his arm stretches past the back of my seat makes me forget what exactly we were talking about.

  Where the hell did those biceps come from?

  “Do I need to remind you that today isn’t about me?” He straightens and pulls off, running his right hand over his chin before settling it back on my leg.

  His fingers are warm.

  I wouldn’t expect anything less from the sun.

  What were we talking about?

  “I just think this might be cool,” he offers in my silence.

  I’m not pensive, I’m not tentative. I’ve forgotten myself under the slight strokes his fingers are performing on my bare thigh. “Whatever you say,” I tell him.

  “If you aren’t into it…”

  I shake my head and place my hand over his, stilling his fingers. “I’m down.”

  As he drives, the streetlights offering moments of light, I swear I can see myself outside my body, as if I’m hovering outside the car.

  Elijah removes his hand from my thigh and clears his throat at a red light. “You sure you’re okay?”

  My head nods before I can think of any other response.

  “You’re quiet,” he says.

  “I’m just existing,” I respond.

  Because for once, I am. Today has definitely been an exercise in handing over control.

  Instead of second-guessing, I grab his hand and set it back on my thigh. But because I can’t be completely brave, I stare outside the window instead of gauging his reaction.

  I can’t see his eyes right now. Not when I’m too busy seeing myself through new eyes.

  After a few more minutes of silence, the sound of commercials on the radio the only break in quiet, the brakes whine as he slows down to park outside what looks like a regular house.

  The only thing signifying the establishment inside is the sign on the front lawn.

  Readings by Jennifer

  I’m nearly disappointed, wondering if this is a hoax. I was half expecting some dingy little building with one of those neon signs with one of the letters flashing because the bulb is nearly out. And a gnarled looking woman at the door, ushering us in with her robe swishing with dramatic flair.

  But one look at Elijah’s face as I unbuckle my seatbelt has me excited again.

  He’s staring at me in that unflinching way that makes me think I’m the most important person in this moment.

  “Ready?”

  “I think so,” I answer before opening the car door.

  Something about the walk to the door has me grinning.

  Because even if this is a bust, even if we walk out feeling like it was a true waste of time, it wouldn’t really be. Nothing about this day could be.

  But something about this feels like…I’m walking in the right direction.

  Elijah presses the doorbell once we’re on the front steps.

  From the outside, I can see dim lights pushing through the shut blinds. There’s movement inside and I wonder if she feels safe, working from her home at such a late hour.

  Sure, nine thirty isn’t that late. But my mom would say it’s too late for company.

  I glance at Elijah and smirk.

  She never knew that I’d had company even later than that.

  The door is yanked open and the smile on my face fades as I take in the woman in front of us.

  She looks so…normal.

  Not much taller than me, with hair that’s been dyed blonde, her dark roots peeking through. Her rounded face would make her look friendly if she smiled.

  There’s a hint of pleasure at the ends of her lips. It makes me feel like she knows things that I don’t.

  And rings adorn every finger on the hand that braces the door for us to enter.

  “I called ahead…” Elijah starts.

  And I wonder how this whole day was orchestrated. I wonder how he concluded that this would be something I’d actually do.

  But then I remember how successfully he helped me face so many of my fears today.

  Jennifer, I assume, nods and gestures with her other hand for us to sit at the table a few feet away.

  Elijah grabs ahold of my hand and walks us in. There’s a sobering that takes place, so intense that I feel outside of myself again.

  I’m in a place I’ve never been before, and I feel comfortable. And that scares me.

  “Are both of you getting a reading today?” she asks us.

  Before I can answer, Elijah shakes his head.

  “I’ll need you to wait in th
e next room,” she tells him; her eyes are on me.

  “You okay with that?” he whispers.

  “Yeah,” I answer on an exhale.

  When he offers me a lingering glance at the doorway before she shuts the door, I smile. This isn’t scary, but it is intimidating.

  “What brings you here?” she asks as she tugs at the skirt of her flowing dress to sit in the chair across from me.

  “It’s my birthday.”

  She only nods, a small smile on her face, as if my lame answer was enough. “Have you had a reading before?”

  I shake my head and glance toward the door that Elijah is somewhere behind.

  “He’s not a believer,” she muses as she pulls out a stack of thoroughly loved tarot cards, their dog-eared edges rivaling those of my favorite novels. “But that’s okay because I think you want to believe.”

  My mouth opens and shuts, but she leans forward with a smile.

  “It’s okay to want that. Don’t ignore the desire.”

  She asks me to shuffle the cards and tells me to focus on three questions as I do.

  “Try to keep it broad but not too broad. Specifics help but being too specific can hurt,” she says.

  I fumble with the big cards, some of them falling onto the table. I apologize, but she only nods, her eyes not on me, but on the deck.

  “I’m going to place the deck in front of me. As I pick up every card, I’m going to explain what I see in reference to what your question is.”

  I don’t say anything as I watch her swift fingers take the mess of cards from me.

  “First question.”

  Just as I did with the cards, I fumble over my words. “I…uh…”

  She shakes her head. “First lesson is to breathe. Then repeat the question to yourself and answer it with the first thing that comes to mind. I don’t know you. You don’t know me.” She shrugs. “There’s no need for embarrassment.”

  We’re in a dim room with some sort of herbal scent clinging to the air, and a woman who looks like someone I could bump into at the grocery store is telling me to be more honest with her than I’ve been with anyone else.

  I take a deep breath and she grips my hand.

  “How about we try something a little different? You ask the questions in your head, as honestly as possible, and I’ll just talk.”

  I sigh in relief as I sit back.