Maldeamores (Lovesick) (Heightsbound #0.5)

by Mara White

  “You two used to be so close, like brother and sister. What happened?” Mami asks as I help her slip her good coat on.

  “We grew up, I guess,” I say with a shrug.

  “It seems like more than that,” Mami says when we’re leaving as she locks the door to our apartment.

  “Oh, well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that he started banging my best friend. Maybe that’s it,” I say, my voice loaded with sarcasm.

  Mami throws her head back over her shoulder and glares at me. I look up and Titi and Luciano are standing at the bottom of the landing.

  “Hola!” Mami says, going in to kiss their cheeks.

  Lucky gives me a look that says, “Really?”

  I cross my arms over my chest, muttering, “I didn’t know they were coming.”

  We ride the train downtown together and Mami and Titi laugh and chat like they haven’t seen each other in years and like they don’t live in the same building. I purposefully don’t sit next to him, but all the way on the other side, next to Mami.

  When we arrive in Times Square, I get off the train and walk fast. I can’t even make eye contact with him. I’m sure he thinks I’m sick or like some crazy, sex-starved person. Above ground we wait at the light to cross and I fix my eyes on the far side of the street. I feel him standing next to me but I refuse to even look at him.

  “Forget this?” he asks and I whip my head to see. He’s holding my purse out to me by the strap with two of his fingers.

  I must have been so nervous that I left it on the train. I didn’t even notice him pick it up for me. My mouth is agape and I shake my head.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the bag from him. I think I’m blushing. He probably thinks I’m a complete moron. A sex-crazed complete moron who can’t keep track of her things and is in love with her own cousin.

  “Hi,” Lucky says, smiling at me. I’m staring ahead again, but he sticks his friendly smile right in my face. It catches me off-guard and a laugh charges out of me. Lucky laughs too and it at least breaks some of the tension.

  We arrive at some loud, noisy, packed Times Square all-you-can-eat restaurant. Hemi is already there and so are her kids. The youngest, Briana, is crying from spilling her drink. Hemi is using a gigantic pile of napkins to mop up the spill. She swears at Raymond and a bunch of heads turn to look at us. Hemi is big, she’s always been big. But right now she’s really big, because Tía Hemi is pregnant. Mami and Titi are slim thick but Hemi is huge. As she mops up the spill her whole arm jiggles and her pants ride so low that her ass crack is exposed. Briana and Annalise are fighting, she tosses an ice cube at her sister and it lands right in someone’s chili.

  “Oh Lord,” Mami sighs.

  “Dios mío,” Titi seconds.

  “Here, I’ll hang up your coat,” Lucky says, and his hands graze my shoulders.

  I exhale hard but my blood pressure rises.

  “We cool?” Lucky whispers into my ear as he removes my coat.

  “Everything’s good,” I reply, but somehow it comes out almost like a question.

  Then Hemi squishes me into a hug, followed by the twins and the other kids until I reach the end of the red-and-white checkered table. They’ve eaten all the free bread; there’s nothing but crusts left in the basket. I sit down and roll my silverware out of the napkin, then look up and smile at my family, feeling determined to have a good time and make myself take advantage by binging on the sundae bar.

  I spot Lucky at the coat check flirting with the girl working there. He laughs and his stance changes. It’s fascinating to watch how she immediately softens for him. It’s probably less than twenty seconds before she’s reaching for her phone. I stare at them punching in each other’s phone numbers and I feel sick. His kiss was so beautiful and so extremely special to me. But it’s a kiss he shares with any girl he wants. And they all seem to want him. My heart sinks deep into my chest when he smiles at her. Lucky will never fall in love with me. He’ll never belong to me and trying to make it happen will only eventually hurt worse than this already hurts me.

  “Belén!” Mami calls and I snap my eyes to her. “Pass the breadsticks, baby. You’re off in la-la land daydreaming.”

  “Sorry,” I say, forcing an apologetic smile. We cool? Probably just meant—are you cool, Belén? Or are you going to go around acting like a sad fool?

  Lucky comes back and talks sports and television and music videos while barely eating anything. He’s loud and gregarious and has the twins and Hemi in stitches, acting full-out a comedy routine from the Caribbean variety show he saw on access TV. I can’t help but laugh too at his imitation of the thickest Dominican accent you ever heard, which isn’t uncommon in our neighborhood. But from the way Lucky is talking, I also think that he’s on something.

  Lucky goes off with the twins and Annalise to play in the arcade. I sit with Mami and my aunts and Briana, stirring my ice cream around without really eating it. They ask me about schools and I give the prerecorded answer that I’ve given to everyone, from the high school guidance counselor to the all the old ladies that live in my building.

  Sometimes I feel like I’m living out everyone in my family’s fantasy of what they wished they’d done instead of what I really want to do. I’m the equalizer, the payment for sins, the second chance in the new generation. I can’t get pregnant, drop out of high school or move to Colorado with a convict, like Mami, Titi and Hemi all did respectively. I can’t swear. I can’t smoke weed or even try drinking beer. I can’t miss curfew, wear too much make-up or even talk like the other girls in the neighborhood. I can’t get stuck in the Heights or move back to the Islands. I can’t complain that I don’t have a dad or wear short skirts that will make the men stare any more than they already do. I can’t be myself. I don’t even know what I want to do.

  I deliver my lines about what I want with my future; it’s just a monologue I’ve memorized, not an actual plan that I’m following through with. Mami gets all teary eyed and Titi clasps her hands to her chest. Hemi just snorts at me with disapproval and takes a sip from her gigantic, salted, virgin margarita glass.

  The boys and Annalise come back and it takes us forever to get our stuff together, get the bill paid, and get everyone in their jackets and out the door. Lucky gets our coats from the coat check girl. I see how he smiles at her and cocks an eyebrow. He mouths the words “Call me” to her and I might throw up on the floor. Fettuccini Alfredo is staging a revolt. I don’t want to go to the movies anymore, I want to go home. Lucky offers me my coat by holding it up so I can slip my arms into it.

  “Madame,” he says, smiling.

  I smile a little, but I’m not falling for it. Waste your charm on somebody else, Lucky. It hurts me too much.

  “’Cause we’re rich people with manners,” I say instead. “Just look at Auntie Hemi.”

  Hemi is stashing all the arcade tokens, even picking them up off of the floor. And God knows why because we’ll probably never come back here. She’s piling all of the leftovers into a bag she produced from her purse.

  “Hemi is special, just look at her shirt,” Lucky says and smiles again. “What do you think that means?”

  Hemi has on shirt that says “Bitch A$$” – I don’t know where she even gets these things.

  “I guess she does have a lot of mouths to feed,” I say.

  “Hemi is going to feed her own mouth, Belén, and you know it.”

  A light snow is falling when we step out of the restaurant. The air has warmed up, so what hits the ground disappears into slush. The pavement is wet and covered in a kaleidoscope of colors reflected off the garish lights of Times Square. Lucky and I trail behind everyone and it almost feels like old times.

  Me and Luciano. Always together. Practically inseparable.

  He’s my closest family member besides my mom.
The thought makes heat rush all through my body. I feel awful for my desire. I think God must have left out something crucial when he made me. I remember learning in school that “disgust” is an emotion. Just like love, or fear, it’s not something you choose. Maybe God left it out of me, or he forgot to put it in. I want Lucky to love me, and not in a brotherly way.

  At the theatre we of course make a scene. Briana is crying again and Auntie Hemi is dumping practically her entire purse out on the floor to find her wallet. Her butt crack is exposed again for the viewing pleasure of the other eight hundred people in line. Then Hemi can’t find her debit card so Mami has to pay. Next Raymond is smoking and Hemi hits him over the head when she catches him. How stupid do you gotta be to smoke in the line standing four people back from your mom when you don’t want her to see?

  Lucky groans and then laughs. I laugh with him and it feels good to commiserate. Hemi and her crew are always good for a distraction. Then we argue about the movie, because all of the kids want to see the action, but Mami says Briana is too young and that we should go to the Disney. There’s a romance that I would rather watch but I’m too shy to make a pitch for it in the deafening chaos of shouting.

  In the end, the boys go to the action flick with Lucky as chaperone, because he’s the “responsible one” in the bunch. Mami, Hemi and Titi go to Disney with Annalise and Briana. I’m the only one who gets a ticket for the romance. Then in line for the concession everybody starts arguing again. I separate from the group to go watch the big screen trailers on the far wall. I’m about to duck into my theater when Lucky spots me. He’s carrying a large container of popcorn and already chowing down with one hand.

  “Hey, Belén, where you going?”

  “I’m going to see this one,” I say. Where the hell has he been?

  “Alone?” he asks and it’s loud enough for a few people to turn their heads.

  “Yes, alone.” Okay, I’m a loser. But I rarely get to go to the movies and I’d like to see one that I’m actually interested in.

  “What is it?” Lucky asks, screwing up his face like he’s confused.

  “A romance,” I say. “Chick flick, girl movie. You wouldn’t like it.”

  “Hold up, let me get these losers settled and then I’ll come and find you.” He says it so casually, as if we were all the way back to normal.

  I feel the rush of excitement go from my heart to my head. It moves so fast that I might pass out—either that or keel over from a heart attack. Act normal. Don’t pee yourself. He felt bad because you were going alone. Calm down, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a movie, not an engagement or a proclamation of love. But see, that’s the problem, everything means something to me and it all means nothing to him. I’m just his kid cousin and he probably already forgot that he kissed me a couple of years ago.

  He takes forever to come over and I begin to think he’s ditched. I even sat at the back, far away from everyone, to make sure he couldn’t miss me. I have to put my glasses on so I can see the screen. The previews are good. I would see every one of these films.

  “Belén!” I hear him shout, short and clipped, followed by a whistle. A whistle I know from my grandfather’s farm in Santiago. A whistle that our moms would use when we stayed out too late on the playground or got lost in the grocery store. I simply raise my hand and he beelines toward me.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” he says as he steps over the only other two people in the row. He leans a bit and spills some of the popcorn. I laugh at him and my smile is so big because I’m overflowing with happiness at the thought of sitting next to him, just getting to spend time with him.

  “Glasses, huh?” he says when he reaches me.

  “Subtitles. It’s in French, I forgot to tell you,” I whisper. Lucky plops hard into the seat; it bounces and more popcorn spills out of the tub.

  “You gotta be shitting me.”

  “Nope,” I say, barely containing my smile.

  The movie is beautiful. It’s breathtakingly romantic. About true love and two people who are totally crazy, head over heels for one another. There are obstacles but together they overcome them. The two love-interest actors are so gorgeous that I’m intoxicated and love-drunk from just looking at them.

  Every time I reach into the popcorn bucket, my hand bumps into Lucky’s and I feel a rush. Every time the couple kisses on screen, I remember his kiss. What it felt like to have him exhale through his nose so close to my face, the warmth of his breath spreading across my upper lip. What it felt like to have him hard and pressed between my legs. I’d give anything to go back to the roof again—to be the object of his affection.

  I sneak a glance at him. He’s looking at me. I look back at the picture.

  I’m wet between my legs and needing and wanting him. I can’t tell if the movie turned me on or if I feel like this just from sitting next to my cousin. I sneak a look back again and Lucky is watching me instead of the movie. I bravely hold his eyes for a moment and something unspoken passes between us. The exchange lasts too long and I can feel heat rise in my face. This is what Lucky has been avoiding and it’s me who can’t stay away.

  Lucky grabs his head in his hands and groans out loud and then stands. He leaves the popcorn in his seat and moves sideways through the aisle until he can walk forward normally and make his escape through the exit.

  I’m crushed. I’m humiliated again. I thought that he wanted me for a moment—a moment I misjudged. The reality of how he feels sinks hard in my gut. He just wants to be my cousin, so why can’t I do it? Why do I have to be the pariah with inappropriate longings? Why do I have to be the awkward girl who’s in love with her cousin? I pick up the tub of popcorn but I don’t eat it. I just want to hold it because Lucky was. I want to recapture some of that energy.

  The bucket collects my tears as I cry alone in the dark. I’m not even watching the movie, because seeing people in love hurts way too much. I shuffle through the aisle; I have to get to the bathroom to clean up. Wash my face before all of the movies end and I’ve got blotchy, red, swollen eyes—a dead giveaway that I’m love-struck.

  After depositing the popcorn in the trash can, I wash my face under the cool tap. I can control the crying, it’s just embarrassing that he affects me so much. I dry my hands and face without looking in the mirror and wander out into the main area. A woman screams and a monster growls and then the action sequence music starts blaring up, disorienting me more. I can feel that I’m still swollen and wet between my legs. I feel volatile and don’t really trust myself not to cry again.

  When I come out, I look up and see Lucky coming out of the men’s room right across from me. His head is down but he looks up with only his eyes, making his stare that much more intense. I want to die on the spot.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, wringing my hands together. I didn’t mean to mess up.

  “Fuck this!” Lucky roars and I’m afraid he’s really mad at me. He comes at me forcefully, but he doesn’t touch me aggressively. He pushes me to the carpet-covered wall and I almost fall backwards over my feet. He presses into me hard, then tilts his head and kisses me.

  I kiss him back so ferociously that I forget to breathe. My mouth slides against his and I swear, nothing can touch me.

  This is all I want. Ever. Lucky.

  His tongue caresses mine, so warm and soft, but his body is crushing me. It’s not just a kiss either, because his hands are all over me. He touches the back of my neck, grabs my ass and feels my breasts through my shirt. I go for his fly. I can feel his cock pressing against his jeans. I want to do terrible things to him and I want him to do his absolute worst to me.

  “Not here, Belén,” he shushes me and moves my hand from his groin. He pins my hands at the wrist against the carpet wall and licks right across my swollen lips. I feel it in my groin. I try to capture his mouth but he’s teasing and smili
ng and ducking his head away from me. I press my groin into his and suddenly nothing is funny.

  “Fuck,” Lucky moans and sticks his tongue deep into my mouth. I suck on his tongue and his lips, wanting to pull any part of him into me.

  “Kissing cousins,” Raymond says as he walks lazily past us into the men’s room.

  “Oh my God,” I say, stepping away from Lucky and wiping my mouth.

  “Shit,” Lucky says, lowering his arms to his sides. He steps back and then rails against the wall, punching it hard.

  “He’ll say something as soon as they come out,” I say, my mind gone frantic with panic. I’m about to get caught for doing something shameful for the first time in my life. Way to destroy the illusion I’ve worked so hard to build up. All the bullshit I spouted at the restaurant when really, I’m the fuck-up.

  “Naw, Bey, don’t sweat it. Raymond’s practically retarded. I’ll go give him a joint to shut him up.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, my hands shaking with nerves. When I kiss Lucky I get so worked up that even my fear of getting caught jumps ship and disappears overboard.

  “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

  When he says it, it’s kind of dismissive, casual, like he’s not saying the most monumental thing I’ve ever been told. To a girl with no father and a hard-working, somewhat absent, single mother, to have someone say they’ll always protect you is mind-alteringly huge. A man who cares about me and promises to care for me is like a kiss from the pope. It’s like winning the lottery, or getting to walk on the moon.

  But when Lucky turns and storms into the bathroom after Raymond, I feel like it’s over. The credits are rolling. The passionate love story with the beautiful French couple doesn’t end so happily after all.