by Mara White
But the shit’s that really our family’s dirtiest secret isn’t in the barn—it’s in the Bronx, right here in New York City.
Tía Betty was nineteen when she arrived in New York. She looked like a grown woman but was probably more like a kid. She’d lost her mom, didn’t speak the language and didn’t have any skills for success. She was also pretty lonely and scared half to death. She didn’t move in with her sister Awilda, because my ma was already living with my dad. That left Luis, their only other contact in the city.
She’d met her uncle once before, her mother’s only brother. Luis had come to the city young, set out for his fortune. When Betty arrived he was a thirty-seven-year-old man with his own livery cab medallion. He was lonely too. And I guess it’s not too hard to figure out what happened. Lonely, single man still longing for the homeland gets a ripe, young roommate, fresh off of the boat with no money, no help and not another soul to turn to.
So, needless to say, of course Belén looks like her mom’s side of the family, because Belén’s got one-sided DNA. But, whatever. Fuck what that means. She isn’t messed up.
Belén turned out perfect.
But Tía Betty fed her a story about being half-Puerto Rican with a made-up dad who took off back to his homeland when he couldn’t be bothered to settle down or to take care of babies. That was my story, so they gave it to Belén, too. We all believed it so well that when we were kids, she and I would talk about our dads coming back or running off to PR to search them down for a reunion. She never doubted it because there was really no need to.
Belén isn’t really the spitting image of Betty, so she just told herself that she looked like her dad and she had us all believing it. We believed in a lie that we ourselves had made up. And Belén was so perfect, none of us wanted to jinx it and mess it up. So my little cousin thinks she’s half Boricua like I am, when really she’s one hundred percent Dominican. She’s twice related to the same damn family.
So her parents’ sin complicates our own story. Belén and I aren’t just one-half related—it’s worse than that. We are a full three-quarters. I don’t even know what the fuck we are. What do you even call it? We are more related than just first cousins. And Belén doesn’t even know it.
Belén
My mom always said that every family has a black sheep. Hemi must be my mom’s generation’s and I must be mine. Even though Hemi’s kids get detention and kicked out of school and even though Lucky is out on the streets doing God knows what. I’m the dirty, shameless girl who would do anything to have her cousin love her. No, even uglier than that. Who would do anything just to have her cousin want to fuck her.
I call Jeremy, although it takes me a full day to work up the nerve. I meet him for coffee and apologize profusely about the stitches in his head and the slight new angle to his nose. He takes it all in stride and brushes off the police bust like they were the regular chaperones for the party.
He holds my hand while he talks to me and circles the pad of his thumb over my nail.
“I’m sorry he hit you, Jeremy.”
“Belén, I told you, quit apologizing for your cousin. I know how Hispanic men get!”
It leaves a bad taste in my mouth but I nod in agreement. I think I’m so desperate for a boyfriend that playing house with Jeremy is fulfilling some stupid fantasy. He buys us fancy coffee and chocolate croissants. We sit by the window and he takes my hand in his lap.
“Have you decided what schools to apply to?” he asks, trailing his fingers up my arm. That’s a normal question. This is a normal relationship, I keep telling myself.
“I’m getting as far away as possible,” I say as I sip white foam off of the top of my steaming mug.
“I can’t believe how close we were when he busted in the door!”
Apparently, our minds are traveling in different places. I can’t stop thinking he seems gay. Is it just because he’s a rich white guy that I’m getting these vibes? What eighteen-year-old straight male likes to look at Vogue magazine? And I’m suspicious because he seems to like me. No boy besides Lucky has ever taken an interest in me.
We pick at our croissants and he leans in and kisses me.
“Are we a thing, Jeremy?” I ask, not sure if I want us to be.
“I think if we got as far as we did the other night, then maybe we should be. Don’t you think?”
I nod my head and think about how he suckled at my breasts and how it made me wet. How he took my panties off and how I let him without feeling guilty. Finally, something sexual without all the horrible shame mounting and building.
But what scares me the most is when I think back on that night. It’s not the scene in the bathroom that makes me flush with heat and fan my face. It’s not Jeremy’s wet kiss or his hard dick in his hands with the intention to enter me.
No.
It’s Lucky. Grabbing me by the arm when my dress was hanging off my body. Dragging me down the hall as he pocketed my panties. Gazing at my breasts with longing, his chest heaving as we waited for the elevator. Handing me my wet underwear and staring me down, humiliating me—while I, completely exposed, pulled up my dress and slid them back on, trying to hide my arousal.
I’ve never experienced anything so sexy.
What makes my body flush with heat isn’t Jeremy. It’s seeing Lucky’s face again when he stared at my nakedness. See him lick his lips and sneer as I covered my body back up.
I’m wet again just imagining it. What I wouldn’t have given for it to be Lucky in the bathroom wanting to take me. For him to use my body for pleasure, even if only to discard me.
That’s why I’m the black sheep. Because Lucky just getting himself off on me is better than someone, maybe Jeremy, actually wanting me.
Lucky
I’m sick. Sick on drugs. Sick on loss. Fucking lovesick. I can’t stop playing over and over what would have happened if I hadn’t walked in on her. I want to kill that piece of shit for putting his hands on her. I want to tear apart any man who thinks he’s even good enough to look at her. My friends, the guys on the corner, that asshole Jeremy, Mr. Sanchez, even Jaylee fucking Inoa. I want to take them all out for even imagining fucking her. I’m physically sick. I can’t leave the apartment. I call Yaritza to come over.
I shower. Get dressed. Sit on the couch and stare. I wonder if she’s upstairs. If she’s at the library studying or if she’s going crazy like I am.
I’d give anything to have her—anything to be her man. But I won’t ruin her life. I refuse to be the reason Belén doesn’t get everything she deserves. I just didn’t figure on it killing me this much to see her with someone else. I honestly thought it’s what I wanted.
I turn up the television to drown out the neighbors’ cheery-ass merengue.
But I can’t sit around and watch it happen, it’ll fucking destroy me. I’d kill him first and that’s why I have to get the fuck out of here and into the marines. So Belén has a chance at a normal life. A normal life with a normal guy.
Yari arrives and hangs up her jacket. She stands with her hands in her pockets and surveys the state I’m in.
“Oh boy, Luciano. You’re a ball of fun today,” she says, hips thrust out sassily out to the side. “Thanks for inviting me over!”
That’s why I like Yari. She’s tough. She can take whatever I give her and more.
“Take your clothes off and get into my bed. I’ll be there in a second.”
Yari shrugs and yanks her shirt off in front of me. She leans her head down and lifts her tit from her bra. She pulls her own nipple into her mouth and then sticks her tongue out, licking all over it.
“Can the show. I’ll be there in a minute,” I say.
Yari shrugs again and heads toward my room.
I stand slowly, feeling like an invalid. I yank open a giant dictionary and two
little packets of coke fall out. Pouring one out onto the page, I cut it, then lean down and snort it. I should lay off but right now it’s too much to be sober. It’s beyond wanting to fuck her, I think I’m in love with her.
I’m in love with my own fucking cousin.
“Luciano!” Yari yells from the bedroom and I shuffle across the floor, shaking my dick through my pants, trying to get it hard before I stick it in her mouth.
I gotta get out of here and give Belén a chance. Happiness, her own family, rosy cheeks to go with her rosebud mouth. A goddamned, picture-perfect, rosy life. She deserves a real life—not a fucking freak show with me, her own flesh and blood. I never realized it would kill me like this to try to stay away from her. Didn’t realize that saving Belén’s happiness might cost me my own sanity.
Belén
June comes before I’m ready.
I do really well on finals.
I think Jeremy is my boyfriend and this will be the very first summer ever that I’m dating someone, even if he’s going away to college in the fall.
Lucky has been distant and positively withdrawn. He sees Yari every day after school. He’s having more sex with her in the last few months than he did in the five or so years since he’s been seeing her.
How do I know?
Yari comes to my place afterward and lists off all of the details. I wish she were more sensitive. I wish I could tell her. I wish Lucky would have chosen me instead to release whatever he’s got all pent up inside and needs to get rid of.
Lucky passed the ASVAB, the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, the first basic test for becoming a Marine. He’s been training hard every day. At the school gym, on the playground, even with weights in the basement. There’s no way they won’t let him in. Unless it’s the drugs. If he stays clean, I know he can do it.
June means Lucky’s graduation. It means we’re planning a party. We party big in my family. A DJ, rented tables and chairs, catering, booze, Dominican cake—the works. Mami already made hair appointments; Yari bought new clothes. Titi has been sick with worry. She thinks if Lucky doesn’t pass we’re all out a shit-ton of money. But I know Lucky will get through his finals. He’s got his eye on the prize and he will get it done. I just wish I could stand by his side as he conquers. I wish it would be my mouth he kisses after he makes his toast at his party.
I’m in the audience when he walks across the stage. We hoot and holler and clap even though they told all the families to withhold their applause till the very end. Try telling Hemi and her crew to shut up. Good luck with that. They’re the loudest bunch in here and not one of them is graduating.
Lucky’s smile is genuine and proud. Titi can’t stop crying and then cries more because she’ll look puffy in all the pictures.
There are blue and yellow balloons all the way down the block. They’re tied to the trees, to the sign post, they’ve even got them on the garbage can. The music is already blasting from the basement of our building. No one is sleeping tonight—least of all the building’s super, whose living quarters we’ve overtaken.
“How about a picture of the cousins?” Hemi shrieks. Raymond and Ramón crowd around Lucky throwing up gang signs and I hold the new baby, Jovani. His diaper smells dirty. I smile big anyway and hold his little hand up.
“Move in closer to Lucky, Bey!” Hemi shouts. I scootch over until I’m flush with my cousin and resume my pose for the picture. We smile until our faces hurt and Jovani starts to cry. Raymond and Ramón wander inside to get started on booze and I help Titi unload more drinks from the car.
The super shows up with a hand truck to help us. Titi smiles at me and pulls me into a hug. Lucky bursts out the front door and onto the sidewalk. He’s changed into jeans and a button-down shirt. His hair is freshly buzzed, he wears small hoops in each ear and he’s vibrating with energy.
“Lenny, how about a pic of me and you? For old time’s sake?”
I smile and squint up at him. He’s haloed by the sun. Sometimes life turns out different than we thought it would, but that doesn’t mean it still can’t be good. I’m happy for Lucky. So happy for him that I’m almost happy for Yari, too. They’re kind of like a real couple now. I should probably get over it.
I hop up the steps and throw my arm around Lucky. His wraps his around my waist and pulls me in tight. A little too tight for comfort. We both smile down at our moms while they get a few shots.
“You’re killing me, Len, with that white dress and that smile. The way your hair smells. Fuckin’ killin’ me dead.”
“Sorry?” I say as I spot Jeremy walking up the block.
“I’d eat you alive and slit his throat while he watched if there were no rules, Bey. If it were just me and you. Just wanted you to know that. Have fun at the party.” Lucky grabs my ass through my new spring dress. He plants a kiss on my cheek and pinches the flesh at my waist. “You’ll be the end of me, I swear. My dick just got hard from having your hair brush across my face.”
So much for normal. So much for a good night. There are tears in my eyes when Lucky finally pulls away and jogs down the stairs to the party.
“Hi Belén!”
“Hey Jeremy.”
Jeremy is all over me and I can barely stand it. I drink more booze than I should and I keep getting angrier and angrier.
Lucky and Yari are dancing salsa. Jeremy asks me if I want to and I cannot seem to tolerate it. There’s no way he knows how to dance to this kind of music. I don’t want him to try; I’d die of embarrassment for him, for both of us. I convince him that I’d rather talk and we sit side by side against the wall. A slow song comes on and he drags me to the floor. His hands feel humid on my back and he keeps rubbing himself against me no matter how much I try to back off. Tonight, Jeremy just seems like a creep. The only reason I keep going is because I’ve snuck too many sips of booze; I’m unsteady on my feet. Raymond and Ramón are trashed and I don’t even want to know what Lucky is on. Our moms are hammered and so is the super.
I lay my head on Jeremy’s shoulder and close my eyes, trying to focus on only the music.
Then I feel a hard poke and my head springs up. Lucky is standing beside us, swaying and smiling.
“Don’t mind if I cut in, do you there, Jeremy?” Lucky says his name like it’s the most awkward mouthful he’s ever tried to swallow. “How about a dance with your old cousin, little Lenny?” He’s wasted. He’s an asshole. Jeremy looks scared of him. He’s probably dreading a repeat session from the bathroom. He steps away from my body while still holding onto my hand. He looks at Lucky, eyes wide, and keeps nodding his head.
Another slow song. Lucky grabs me and holds me inappropriately close. He slams his hips into mine and wraps his arms tightly across my back.
“If you think you’re giving it up to that little prick tonight, you are mistaken,” he says through clenched teeth.
“It’s none of your business, unfortunately, cousin.” I play it aloof because I’m all out of cards. How many times can one person break your heart?
“Come to my place tonight after the party,” he whispers into my ear, his lips grazing the shell.
“Why, so you can fuck my best friend in front of me?” I spit it in his face and pull away from his body. Lucky grabs my biceps and holds on too tight. I’m still pulling back but I don’t want to cause a scene or a fight. It’s his fucking graduation. It’s supposed to be a memorable night.
“I’m not fucking DONE,” Lucky growls when Jeremy hovers beside us waiting for his turn. Yari throws her hands in the air and storms out of the basement. Jeremy steps back, sits his ass in a chair and pulls out his phone. He’d never stand up to Lucky—Jeremy admires him too much.
I shove Lucky as hard as I can until we’re in the middle of the dance floor. My hands grip his shirt and my heart aches so hard it might collapse on the spot
.
“Know what I got you for graduation, Luciano?”
“What?” I’ve caught him off guard and he finally looks around to see who is watching.
“My V card, Luck. The same damn present I’m always trying to give you. But you don’t fucking want it. You’ll take anybody else’s. I mean anybody. But mine isn’t good enough for you!” My hands grip his lapel. I’m yelling right in his face.
“Calm down, Len. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“I haven’t had enough. I can never have enough to pretend this doesn’t hurt. I fucking love you, Luciano! I’m in love with you. I want to be with you and it’s fucking impossible!” I’m crying off my make-up and pulling away from him. He’s holding onto my arm so fiercely that I’m afraid it will break. Our little interlude has finally caught everyone’s attention. Our mothers are staring. Raymond is laughing and Jeremy’s taken off after Yari, both of them scurrying right out of the basement.
Lucky finally lets go. I stagger off the dance floor. I look back at him standing in the middle of his party. Legs spread wide, palms turned out to me. The balloons are leaking their helium and slowly drifting lower. The streamers long since yanked down, the red-plastic cups spilled haphazardly all over the sticky floor.