“It’s time for dinner,” she said. “Alex, you’re at the head table, with me.”
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, looking me up and down one more time. I folded my arms across my chest to cover my now see-through top.
Lilly shot him a look and grabbed his arm.
“Enjoy dinner!” She smiled as she led Alex off toward her table.
Chapter 29
I plopped down next to my brother. Alonzo and José had already been to the buffet and were both enjoying the yellow soup I had almost destroyed earlier this morning.
“You look like you were having a good time,” I said to Vince, nodding at his drenched dark hair.
“Did you see the chick I was dancing with? Hello, Baywatch !”
“Vince, I swear, you bring tacky to a whole new level.” I shook my head as we both stood up to make our way to the buffet.
“Did you see Alonzo eating the soup?” I whispered, smirking.
“I know,” Vince murmured. “I hope Aunt Carmen didn’t scrape it off the floor.”
We both chuckled as we grabbed plates and flatware and moved toward the spread of food.
“Holy crap,” I mumbled, as I gawked at the dozens of brimming dishes filling at least three banquet tables.
“That’s a lot of food to have been made by one person.”
“Seriously.”
Chicken, pork, fish, soup, beans, mofungo (shrimp and plantains), steak, vegetables and a bottomless pit of rice simmered in aluminum serving trays above small warming candles. It was enough to feed a small country.
“Mariana, if you even attempt to get picky and not eat the food, I’ll hurt you myself,” my brother warned.
He was right. I had to suck it up for my aunt’s sake. I scooped small bits of almost every dish presented, along with a hefty serving of plantains, and exited the buffet line. We made our way across the tent and as soon as our table came into view, we both stopped in our tracks.
“Whoa.” Vince stared, openmouthed.
“Um, is that the woman from the church? Sitting at our table?”
“You mean the mother of the devil-child. Yes, I believe that’s her,” Vince said.
“Well, what are we gonna do? We can’t sit there.”
“We already put our drinks there.”
“So, we’ll get new drinks,” I suggested.
“Too late.”
The woman swiveled her head, spotted us and waved. Alonzo and José smiled awkwardly beside her, which made me think she had already relayed the story about our rude behavior during the ceremony.
“Well, this is gonna suck,” I mumbled as we trudged over to our seats.
I pulled out my chair and plastered a fake grin on my face.
The woman beamed back and said, “Hola,” as she adjusted her son’s position in the seat next to her. I refused to make eye contact with the child. My only defense was to pretend as if nothing had happened. Maybe she’d eat her dinner, we’d eat our dinner, and then all go our separate ways—in silence.
“I’m Teresa,” the woman said in perfect English, extending her hand.
No such luck.
“Um.” I coughed. “I’m Mariana. This is my brother, Vince.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said politely.
I turned my gaze to my food and shoved forkful after forkful into my mouth. I didn’t even like half of what I was consuming (there were onions in everything), but I figured if my mouth was occupied with food then it couldn’t be occupied with conversation.
“So, Mariana,” she began.
Crap, I thought.
“Where are you from?”Teresa gracefully sipped her water.
“I’m from the States,” I answered briefly, hoping to discourage further inquiry.
“I figured that. Where exactly?” She brushed her long hair over her shoulder and for the first time I noticed it had flecks of red similar to my own.
“Philadelphia, the suburbs.”
I shot Vince a wide-eyed look. He quickly turned his head in the opposite direction and pretended to speak to José.
“Oh, really. I lived in New York for a while.” She cut her son’s chicken as he sat silently beside her like a perfect angel. “This is my son, Manuel.”
I nodded in the direction of the child, refusing to look at him. My cheeks flushed.
“How do you know Lilly?” she asked.
I saw Alonzo and José exchange a wary glance. This conversation was like Chinese water torture—endlessly painful in tiny, maddening increments.
“She’s my cousin, my third cousin.”
“Ah, she’s my second cousin,” Teresa responded.
It suddenly struck me the number of relatives Lilly had filling the tent. If my parents threw me a birthday party and invited every relative we had in the country, we’d be lucky to fill a small bathroom.Yet, Lilly was surrounded by hordes of family every day. I didn’t think Madison invited one relative to her Sweet Sixteen, other than her parents, and that’s only because they were paying for it. If she had had her way, they would have been bounced at the door with the rest of the adults.
“So, I guess that must mean we’re related.”Teresa elegantly batted her eyes in a look that for a split second seemed almost sinister.
There was something about her I didn’t trust. If she wanted to complain about my poor behavior toward her son, she should just come out and say it. She was a grown woman, in her mid-thirties at least. She should have enough gumption to stand up for her child, especially to some obnoxious teenager.
“Now, are you related on your mom’s side or your dad’s side?” she continued, with a crooked grin.
“Look, I’m sorry about what we said about your son. At the church,” I stated plainly, nudging my brother with my elbow to drag him back into the conversation. “It was rude. And I’m sorry.”
If she wasn’t going to be woman enough to acknowledge the obvious, then I was.
“Thank you. But it’s no bother. He hadn’t napped all morning and he was rather cranky.”
“Well, still, it was wrong. Wasn’t it,Vince?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, looking the opposite direction.
“Let’s forget it,” she offered. “But I would like to hear more about your family in Philadel—”
Just then Lilly’s father Juan tapped the microphone on stage. “Hola, hola,” he repeated as his voice boomed through the tent, interrupting our conversation (thank God). Lilly’s grandparents and godparents stood beside him, holding hands and smiling with pride.
Juan held up a long champagne flute and offered a toast to his daughter, of which I understood almost half (quite an accomplishment on my part). Lilly smiled adoringly as the crowd held their drinks in the air. After a few moments, Juan winked, lifted his flute and bellowed, “¡Salud!”
“¡Salud!” we responded in unison.
I took a sip of my soda, stood up and walked out of the tent, leaving Teresa behind—hopefully for the last time.
When the alcohol supply began to dwindle, the party finally wound down. I was exhausted. It was almost two in the morning and with the countless guests traipsing in and out of the bathroom, I doubted I would get much sleep until they left. I slumped into my folding chair and yawned.
“¿Estas cansada?” Alonzo asked, as he took a final chug of his beer.
I nodded as I yawned again, showing just how tired I was.
My brother was still on the dance floor groping the blonde in the red dress. He felt no shame in sucking her face in front of a crowd of strange relatives, and apparently neither did she. Lilly was swaying in the midst of a pack of admirers when she finally rolled her head in my direction and caught my eyes half closed.
She stumbled over, her loyal subjects clamoring behind her. Alex was nowhere in sight.
“Hey. Ya look purdy wrecked,” she slurred; clearly she had more than sipped the champagne.
“Lilly, I haven’t had any alcohol to drink all night.” I chuckled.
“Ya serious?” she asked, her eyes confused.
“Yup. It’s just late. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
“No! Why? The night’s ssnot over!” she protested as she wrapped her arms around two bleary-eyed guys.
I glanced around the tent. There were only about two dozen guests left, mostly immediate family members, and the band had packed up more than an hour ago.
I grunted and stood up.
“It’s over for me,” I muttered.“Enjoy the rest of your night. And happy birthday.”
I swiveled toward the house and before I made it to the tent’s exit, Lilly called out: “Sweet dreams! Of Alex! Ooooo!”
I stopped in my tracks as the guys around her “Oooed” and “Aahhhed” to worsen my embarrassment.
It was her birthday, I told myself. Just smile and nod, smile and nod.
Chapter 30
I was the only one who didn’t struggle waking up the next morning. Uncle Miguel was in the kitchen by sunrise, as usual. Our crack-of-dawn breakfasts had become a ritual, and I could now hold entire conversations with him in Spanish. It’s not like we talked politics or anything, but my linguistic skills had finally expanded beyond standard greetings and weather reports.
I sank into a chair at the table. The kitchen was overflowing with dirty dishes, the floor was stained with muddy footprints and the air was thick with the stench of alcohol. I couldn’t imagine what the scene looked like outside. There was no cleanup crew coming to erase the mess and I was praying I wouldn’t be recruited for the task.
“Hola, Mariana,” my uncle said as he sifted through the filthy dishes.
He handed me a cup of coffee and asked for my reaction to the party. We spent the next half hour discussing the Quinceañera and my attempts to salsa dance, which he found rather funny. I told him how impressed I was that the family had arranged everything themselves and how welcomed I felt by my relatives. Truthfully, I had never felt that comfortable with my relatives from home. Most of my aunts and uncles lived only a couple hours away and still we rarely saw them. Family get-togethers just weren’t important, and for the first time I felt like I was missing out on something.
Uncle Miguel patted my hand sympathetically and softly asked me to tell him about my grandparents. His eyes turned sad, but I didn’t question him despite how odd it felt sharing stories about his brother like they were strangers.
I told him about going pumpkin picking with my grandparents every year the week before Halloween. How we’d trek out to a pumpkin patch in Jersey and my grandfather would insist we walk down every row before we made our selections. Vince always picked the largest orange heap he could find, and I always picked the one that was most symmetrical. Afterward we hauled them home and carved ghostly faces with my grandfather’s pocketknives. He was always so proud of our creations, no matter how simplistic.
In return, my Uncle Miguel told me about my father. How he used to call him “Manny” when he lived here, short for his middle name, “Manuel,” which I found bizarre. I had never heard anyone refer to him as anything other than Lorenzo, not even my grandparents. He also said my dad used to run around the house screaming and jumping until my grandmother lost her patience and chased him with a broom. The most physical activity I ever saw my dad engaged in was hoisting his laptop bag to his shoulder.
Finally, after my uncle and I had eaten and he was about to leave for work, Lilly and Vince staggered out of bed.
“Dude, Mariana, you’re up.” Vince trudged into the kitchen and straight to the refrigerator.
“Have fun last night?”
“Totally,” he grumbled.
“Really? ’Cause you seemed kinda busy whispering in that blonde’s ear,” I joked.
“We did a lot more than whisper.”
“Ew, gross!”
“You talking about Antonia?” Lilly asked as she tottered into the kitchen.
“Is that her name?” Vince grinned with a wink.
“Vince!” I shrieked, tossing a crumpled napkin at him.
“I’m just kidding. I know her name . . . and her cup size.”
“Seriously, please shut up.” I groaned, plugging my ears with my index fingers.
“All right, all right.” He laughed. “So, where were you?”
I looked down at my tiny coffee cup. “I was dancing.”
“With Alex,” Lilly mocked.
“No way! Who’s Alex?”
“No one,” I muttered, shooting Lilly a look.
“Oh, be careful. I’ll tell him you said that,” she teased.
I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.
“You like a boy!” Vince shouted, choking on his orange juice.
“Shut up!” I said, the grin still plastered on my face.
“Oh, my God! You do! I swear, the world is gonna end. Someone check the news.”
“Stop it! Why do you have to make such a big deal out of it? We just danced.”
“Sure you did,” Lilly said with a smirk.
“We did!”
“Uh-huh,” she added.
“First of all, Mariana, you don’t dance with guys unless they’re assigned to you by some ballet teacher. And second of all, in the fifteen years that I’ve known you, you haven’t shown interest in a single guy. Ever.”
“That’s not true,” I said, kind of lying.
I did get crushes on guys, but they were usually seniors, or football jocks, or artist types, who I thought were way out of my league and not worth mentioning to anyone. Besides, none of them ever liked me back, at least not that I knew of. Unlike other girls, I was incapable of altering my personality for guys I found attractive. I couldn’t bat my lashes on cue, or soften my voice, or laugh at unfunny jokes. I was myself, whether I was speaking to my brother, my best friend, my lab partner or a stranger. And to date, guys didn’t seem to find my down-to-earth realism nearly as attractive as girls who pouted their lips and twirled their hair.
“Mariana, it’s true and you know it. This is a big deal. And I think I need to meet this young man,” Vince stated in his most responsible tone.
“Uh, you already did, loser. He’s one of Lilly’s friends.”
“He was my escort, on the court,” Lilly explained.
“Oh, I remember that guy,” Vince said. “I didn’t really talk to him much, but he seemed cool.”
“He is,” I added, rising from my kitchen chair in the hopes of ending the conversation. “Besides, we just danced. It was nothing major. I’ll probably never see him again.”
“I doubt that,” Lilly muttered. “We’re all meeting him and his friends at the beach later today.”
“What?” I screamed.
Lilly immediately ducked out of the kitchen and dashed down the hall to avoid my reaction. I chased after her, almost slipping in my bare feet. She darted into her bedroom and tried to slam the door shut. I threw myself at it just in time.
“It’s nothing,” she explained. “Just after you went to bed last night, I kinda made plans with his friends to get together today.”
“Well, how do you know Alex is gonna be there?” I asked.
The fact that I was being set up was horrifying, but not nearly as much as Alex seeing me in a bathing suit.
“Of course he’ll be there.” She sighed as she pulled out a beach bag and a red string bikini. “Considering you guys were all flirty last night I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I was not flirty!”
Even I couldn’t keep a straight face as I said it; my mouth spread from ear to ear.
“Look at you! You know you were!” she shouted. “Plus, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for my party. I mean, you didn’t even like me half the time, and you still helped my mom.”
“I like you!”
“Yeah, now you do. But, whatever, you know what I mean. If it weren’t for you I probably would have been walking down the aisle wearing a pink fairy costume and eighties hair.”
I laughed. “You don’t know how c
lose you came to that exact ensemble.”
“I believe it.” She laughed. “Anyway, the beach is gonna be fun. And it’s not a date. It’s a group thing. I’ll be there,Vince’ll be there, Alex’s friends will be there. So don’t freak out.”
I paused and considered the situation. I wanted to see him again. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since last night. But what if we saw each other in daylight and the magic was gone? What if he saw my pasty skin in a bathing suit and was totally repulsed?
My mind was spinning.
“How many bathing suits did you bring?” Lilly asked, as if reading my thoughts.
“Three.”
“Are any of them bikinis?”
“One. It’s black.”
“Okay, you’re bringing that one.”
I suddenly regretted drinking so much coffee. My hands were jittery and my stomach was swishing. I blamed it on the caffeine.
Chapter 31
The beach was deserted. It was the closest coastline to Utuado, which, being at the top of a mountain, still meant it was about forty-five minutes away. Lilly said it was a local hangout. Not too many tourists strayed this far from San Juan, which was their loss.
The beige sand flowed for miles, disturbed only by lush green trees and a few jagged rock jetties reminiscent of New England. The turquoise water rolled in low, lazy waves filling the air with a clean salty breeze. It was a strong contrast to the Jersey shores I frequented back home. Depending on the shore point, the beach was either two feet from the boardwalk or two miles. The water was a murky, unnatural shade of brownish green, and the scene was far from abandoned.
So far, I liked the Puerto Rican coast better.
I snuck a peek at Lilly’s freakishly developed fifteen-year-old figure. She looked like a swimsuit model in her red string bikini with unlined triangle cups filled to perfection. My suit, however, came with the boobs already included. There was enough padding on my chest to act as a flotation device in case of an emergency.
“You can’t tell that they’re not real.” Lilly sighed, after catching me staring at her again.
“Okay, let’s not talk about my boobs while you look like Pamela Anderson.”
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