Amor and Summer Secrets

by Diana Rodriguez Wallach

  Chapter 16

  My brother and Lilly arose about three hours later. By that time the entire family had stirred and my uncle had left for his job at a hotel, which I was only able to deduce because the word “hotel” was the same in Spanish and in English.

  His departure left me with a lot of quiet time. I don’t think I’d ever before spent so much time alone and unstimulated. At home, I was always preoccupied by a television or a computer or a cell phone or all of the above. Currently, I had none of those things. The TV was in Spanish, my computer had no Internet access, and the phone didn’t have long distance.

  I wanted to leaf back through Lilly’s Quinceañera book, but I knew how annoyed I would be if some stranger snooped through my personal property, passing judgment on my taste and style. So I kept the book closed; instead I thumbed through the stacks of magazines (they were public property, I could buy them at newsstands, so I thought they were fair game).

  First, I couldn’t get over how tacky everything was—even the magazine layouts. There was an entire section on pillows, apparently used to kneel on during the ceremony. Don’t their churches have kneelers? They weren’t even elegant pillows crafted of raw silk or satin; they were white frilly pillows covered in lace fringe and pink ribbons. They were shaped as hearts (hello, she’s fifteen not five!) and all embroidered with that cheesy “Hallmark font.”

  Next, came the tiaras.Yes, Madison was planning to wear a tiara, but I could guarantee anyone that her specially ordered headpiece from Swarovski was strikingly different from the white, flower-embroidered ones in these magazines. Last time I saw hair ornamentation like that was at my first Holy Communion, and most of those pieces were crocheted by girls’ grandmothers.

  The dresses—wow, the dresses. I’m no fashion expert, but every single one looked like a cross between a wedding gown and a tutu (and I had plenty of experience with tutus). I couldn’t understand why any girl would want to wear a pseudo wedding dress before her wedding day—talk about stripping away the magic. At least Madison was wearing a silver slip gown that was “sultry,” not “sweet.”

  By eight o’clock, I had scoured all the pages and I couldn’t wait for the household to wake up and entertain me. I was running out of snarky opinions.

  My Aunt Carmen appeared in the kitchen first, utterly shocked that there were two sets of dishes resting on the drying rack. I tried my best to explain to her that I was quite satisfied with the meal I had already eaten, but she insisted that I eat at least another piece of fruit (she sliced up a mango and shoved it at me) just to prove I wasn’t starving. I did. It was easier than trying to search my Spanish vocabulary for enough words to protest. Lilly’s father, whom I still called Señor Sanchez despite his objections, came barreling in next. He didn’t eat anything. He merely kissed Aunt Carmen on the cheek and rushed out the door. Finally, Lilly emerged—her auburn hair matted at the nape of her neck and her mascara smeared around her bleary brown eyes.

  “Uh,” she grunted at me as she opened the refrigerator and took out what smelled like pineapple juice. “Want any?”

  “Nah, I already ate.”

  “Seriously? How long have you been up?” she asked, scratching her butt.

  “A while.”

  “Figures, you went to bed before the sun went down.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I see you’re planning quite a party.” I nodded at the stacks of clippings and magazines I had carefully returned to their original positions.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s my Quinceañera. It’s like the most important thing in my mom’s world,” she groaned as she took a sip from her glass.

  “Oh, so these are all your mom’s plans?” I asked.

  “Yup. She’s pretty much running the show. I just told her to tell me when to show up.”

  Now that at least made a little more sense. I could imagine a mother choosing all of the items I had scanned earlier. But I still couldn’t imagine a teenage girl not being concerned with her own birthday party.

  “Don’t you care? About all the details? I mean, this is a pretty big deal, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s huge! There’s gonna be, like, a hundred people here.”

  “Wait, you mean ‘here’? Like, in this house?”

  “Not exactly, but yeah. We’re having it in the yard. My mom’s renting a tent.”

  I thought back to Uncle Miguel swatting at the stray vines with his machete. It made more sense now.

  “That’s a lot of people.”

  “Oh, it’s the Who’s Who event of Utuado.” Lilly chuckled. “Seriously, I’m so over Quinceañeras. I’ve been to, like, twenty this year alone. There’re only so many times you can watch a girl do the same waltz and pretend to be interested.”

  “But it’s your birthday party! It’s your big day!”

  “Oh, yes. It’s the day I become ‘a woman.’ ” She placed her hand sweetly on her heart and laughed, rolling her eyes. “The whole frills and lace thing just isn’t my scene.”

  Before I could protest and point out the importance of such an event,Vince emerged in the doorway looking like the walking dead. His muddy brown locks were shooting straight in the air, his face still had creases on it from his pillow, and the corners of his eyes were crusty.

  “Have a good time last night?” I asked, sounding more like Mom than I intended.

  “Totally,” he groaned between yawns. I could still smell the beer on his breath.

  He walked straight over to the fridge, opened it, took out the orange juice, grabbed a glass from the drying rack and poured. He didn’t once pause to consider whether it was rude to go into someone else’s refrigerator without an invitation. That thought would never cross my brother’s mind.

  “Hey, so do you guys know we have to work today?”

  “What?” my brother and I shrieked in unison. Vince almost dropped his glass.

  “Work. Today. At my grandfather’s hotel,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  My first thought was confusion that my Uncle Miguel owned the hotel. I thought he just worked there. My second thought was who exactly signed us up for child labor? Sure, I was fifteen and sure, I had been hoping to work this summer back in Spring Mills, but it seemed a little presumptuous that these distant relatives would just assume we would work at their family business without even asking. What, were we expected to pay off our rent like indentured servants?

  “Um, what the hell are you talking about?” Vince asked bluntly.

  “Your dad arranged for you to work at the Villa del Mar this summer. At least that’s what my parents told me. Don’t worry, it doesn’t suck that much. Plus, my grandfather is the biggest pushover. We won’t have to spend that much time actually working,” she stated with a smirk, as she pumped her eyebrows.

  “What do you mean? You think we can get out of it?”

  “Vince! We are not ‘getting out of this!’ ” I yelled. “These people are hosting us for two months, and if Dad told them we’d work then we’ll work. It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do.”

  “Speak for yourself,” he huffed.

  “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I ditch work all the time. And there’s even a bar on the first floor where my family hangs out.”

  The idea of working and having something to occupy my time while I was here actually sounded rather pleasant. But it was clear I was the only one who felt that way. With every word Lilly said it was becoming more conspicuous that the only thing we had in common was our appearance. And the more she and Vince agreed, the more alone I felt.

  Just then, the telephone on the kitchen wall let out a loud ring. Lilly yelled something toward her grandmother’s bedroom, which I assumed was the equivalent of “I got it!” in English, and picked up the bright blue receiver.

  “Dígame,” she stated, before her eyes quickly flicked toward me. “Hold on. She’s right here.”

  “It’s for you,” she whispered, holding out the receiver.

  I grabbed t
he phone out of Lilly’s hand, harder than I should have, and flung it to my ear. “Hello?”

  The minute I heard my mother’s voice, tears welled in my eyes. It was an involuntary reflex. I didn’t want to cry, and I definitely didn’t want Lilly to see me cry, I just couldn’t help it. It was like the wind got sucked out of my gut the minute my mother spoke.

  “Mom?” I squeaked, tears rolling down my cheeks.

  I glanced at my brother, who looked annoyed at my slobbering reaction.

  “No, Mom. Ev-everything’s fine,” I stuttered between cries. “I just, I just miss home.”

  Vince forcefully ripped the phone out of my hand and whipped it toward his mouth.

  “We’re working at some stupid hotel! What the heck, Mom? When were you going to tell us that? Or should I ask what else you’ve got planned, huh?” he screamed into the receiver.

  I wrestled the phone away from him and softly returned it to my ear. My mom was talking at warp speed on the other end. It sounded like she was apologizing, but it really didn’t matter what she was saying. I just wanted to hear her voice.

  Chapter 17

  It was more of an expanded bed-and-breakfast than a hotel. The small building was located near the University of Puerto Rico Utuado campus and catered mostly to traveling locals or visiting relatives. There were twelve clean, but not very fancy guest rooms (a couple shared the same bathroom) and, as Lilly promised, there was a bar on the first floor. In Philly it would be considered a rather seedy dive bar, but in Utuado it seemed fairly standard with its wood-paneled walls and smell of stale beer. The entire establishment consisted of about a dozen tables, a pool table and a porch used solely for playing dominos. They served one type of beer, an island favorite called Medalla Light, a couple flavors of the locally distilled rum, and some light snacks cooked by my Aunt Carmen.

  But none of this prepared me for the bar’s baño, which made most highway rest stops look like the Four Seasons. First off, there was no toilet. Second, there was no sink. There was a waist-high wooden shelf with a drain in the center. The occupant was simply expected to pee in the drain. It didn’t flush, because it didn’t need to. It was like urinating in a gutter. Next to the shelf was a metal spigot (that back home would normally be connected to a gardening hose), and using the water from it you could rinse your hands. The water, of course, was swallowed by the same drain in which you just peed. So, mentally, you either just peed in the sink or washed your hands in the toilet.

  Lilly laughed hysterically when I ran out screaming and holding my nose.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist! You should see your face.” She giggled. “Only the old guys use that bathroom. There’s another one, I swear!”

  She took us on a brief tour of the hotel, including the bathroom in the lobby, which wasn’t luxurious but it at least had a toilet—that flushed.Then she informed me that I would be working at the front desk. I immediately deemed myself important and assumed the title of “concierge.” I set up my post behind the desk, alphabetized a list of local menus and memorized a few catch phrases: “¿Hace mucho calor, verdad?” I doubted I would need to know many other weather statements (it’s a tropical island; it’s always hot).Vince was a bellhop. Being that there were only twelve guest rooms and the hotel was never filled to capacity, it didn’t seem as though either of us would have much to do. This fact left Vince sulking on a wooden stool in the corner of the lobby watching Spanish soap operas (of which he could not understand a single word). One hour into our four-hour shift and he was already trying to talk me into ditching.

  “Seriously, Mariana, you’re getting on my nerves. We have nothing to do! I say we just leave. Uncle Miguel probably won’t even notice.”

  “Vince, it’s a job! He’s expecting us to be here,” I huffed. “Man, you really don’t have a single responsible bone in your body. What the heck are you going to do at Cornell next year?”

  “I’m going to pledge a fraternity and drink a lot.”

  “Yeah, that’ll go over big with Dad. I dare you to fail out. Really, I do. I would love to see what happens. Truthfully, I think it would be justifiable homicide on Dad’s part.”

  “I’m not gonna fail out. Not everyone has to obsess about things the way you do.”

  “I don’t obsess.”

  “Oh, my God!” Vince shouted, rising from his stool and crossing the room to the desk I was standing behind. “You are the queen of obsessive. Seriously, how long did you whine about missing Madison’s party? And have you stopped thinking about home once since we got here?”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m obsessed. That means I have a life at home worth missing. Sorry if you can’t say the same!”

  “Oh, please! I’ve got a life. I just don’t mope around crying about it all day. . . .”

  “You know, Vince, shut up!” I yelled, cutting him off and slamming my hands on the front desk.

  “It’s the truth!”

  “You’re such a jerk!”

  “Brat!”

  “What are you two screaming about? I can hear you from upstairs,” Lilly said, as she bounded down the steps carrying a white plastic laundry basket brimming with sheets.

  Apparently she’d been working at the hotel since she was twelve, which I found rather odd since there are laws against that sort of thing. Regardless, I got the distinct impression that she used to work the front desk, but since she lives in Utuado, and thus is not treated with the same polite “visitor” gloves that we were, she was tasked with laundry duty for the duration of the summer. Part of me felt guilty that she was now stripping beds, but I also had no desire to take on that responsibility. . . so, given the situation, I thought I could deal with the guilt.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, still glaring at my brother.

  “Lilly, when can we get out of here?” Vince asked.

  The boy truly had no tact.

  “Actually, I’m pretty much done,” she said, dropping the basket on the white tiled floor. “Lemme just throw this stuff in the washer and we can head out.”

  “What? How? Who’s gonna watch the place if we go?” I insisted.

  It was my first real day of employment and it didn’t feel right to walk out before the end of my shift.

  “I’ll just tell my grandfather we’re getting lunch. Trust me, he won’t expect us back and he really won’t care,” she said, as she lifted the laundry basket off the floor and rested it on her hip. “I’ll be right back.”

  I frowned at Vince the moment she disappeared from sight.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Ditching work on the first day.We’ve been here for what, thirty-six hours? And you’re already causing trouble.”

  “I’m not causing trouble. Lilly said it was okay.” His eyes contorted like he was incapable of comprehending my point of view. “Mariana, this may come as a shock, but in this situation, on this island, with her relatives, Lilly may know a little more about ‘right’ and ‘appropriate’ than you do.”

  I dropped my head to stare at the black Formica-topped desk. He had a point, though I refused to admit it. I scanned the registry; there were only three rooms occupied and I had already watched all three guests exit the hotel for the day. If we stayed, we’d just be babysitting an empty lobby and my Uncle Miguel probably knew that, which could be why he was so lenient about Lilly ditching.

  “Fine,” I muttered.

  “All right, you guys ready to go?” Lilly cheered as she hopped back up the steps from the basement laundry room.

  “Absolutely!”Vince replied. “So what do you wanna do? I was hoping we could go into Old San Juan, or maybe go to the beach? But really I’m up for anything you feel like. Do you have a car?”

  “Well, I can’t drive. But you can, right?” she asked Vince, who nodded. “Because we can take my grandmom’s car. One of my friends is having her Quinceañera tonight. The reception is at this place in San Juan. I already spoke to her and she said it’s
cool if I bring you guys. There are already gonna be, like, two hundred people there. And I figured we could go into San Juan now and just hang out for a bit.”

  “Awesome!”

  “You guys have something nice to wear?”

  “Totally,” Vince responded. “Mariana, how long will it take you to get ready? You’re not gonna shower again, are you?”

  That was the last thing I wanted to do. I sorely missed my white marble tub back home with the white fluffy towels and gardenia-scented candles. It radiated spa-like peace—unlike my current accommodations, which made me want to sprint to the nearest hotel (not my uncle’s hotel, of course). When Señora Sanchez walked in without knocking this morning and peed midway through my shower, I almost lost it. She didn’t even flush the toilet.

  But that wasn’t what was holding me back from Lilly’s proposed plans.

  “I’m not going,” I mumbled, while staring at my feet.

  “What? You are so not staying here,” Vince ordered.

  “Well, I’m not crashing some stranger’s party.”

  “Mariana, really it’s not like that. I already spoke to her. She invited you,” Lilly insisted.

  “Look, if some strangers just showed up at Madison’s party, she’d be pissed. I’m not going to do that.”

  “Who’s Madison?” Lilly asked.

  “It’s her stupid friend from home!” Vince shouted. “I can’t believe you’re going to let them dictate your plans from across the ocean.”

  “I’m not! It’s just tacky, Vince. Quinceañeras are a big deal. You don’t just show up the day-of uninvited.”

  “You are invited,” Lilly repeated.

  “The girl’s a complete stranger. I’m sorry, Lilly. Thanks for trying, but no,” I insisted.

  “Then what the heck are you going to do all day?” Vince asked.