Down to the Bone

by Mayra Lazara Dole

  It all feels so new, weird, awkward, but good, too, and I don’t want to push anyone away.

  Someone walks in with dark wavy hair and flawless white skin who reminds me of my mom. Even Soli mentions it. We sit staring because the resemblance is so uncanny.

  Before the Incident, Mami and I spent time together every single Sunday morning. We’d take Pedri and Neruda to parks all over Miami and hang out talking or skating. This gap I feel about Marlena and my mom is becoming harder to take. What a reckless use of my time to keep stewing in disappointment and hurt, though. It’s not easy to let go and start a new life even when someone as fascinating as Tazer is interested in me.

  The woman buys some oatmeal cookies at the counter and walks away. I give out a long, sad sigh.

  I look to Tazer. Right now, I’m more attracted to Gisela than him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. What he just did with me is what I was thinking about gathering the courage to do with Gisela, if she’d go out with me, that is. But not just a pop kiss. Way deeper. What do I do now? Maybe Tazer pop kisses all the girls he’s attracted to and he’s not expecting anything from me? I hope so.

  Gisela places our food on the table without taking her expressive eyes off mine. It feels like she’s wrapping her warmth around me. “Enjoy.” She smiles a smile of dripping ice cream cones as she walks to the next table.

  Soli, Tazer and Diego talk up a storm. Diego recites a few original poems for Tazer to hear. Tazer doesn’t seem stuck on not having gotten a reaction from me. That’s a relief.

  My eyes scan the restaurant. I see girls holding hands with their girlfriends. I wish I could go up to Gisela and strike up a conversation. I’d ask her to come with me on a long bike ride to the beach, then a picnic under the moonlight. I want to kiss her so badly it burns!

  Tazer whispers to me while Soli and Diego take a break to kiss. “I’m jealous. I can tell Gisela likes you. That’s why I kissed you: to get her attention away from you, since you’re straight. I like kissing girls. Don’t worry. It’s nothing serious.”

  Whew! Just what I wanted to hear.

  He goes on. “Here I am, thinking I’m her type, and she ends up going for you.”

  “Just because a girl looks feminine doesn’t mean she has to like the opposite of her, or that two feminine-looking girls together will act like submissive wimps in bed.” This slips out of me.

  “And how do you know that?” Tazer squints.

  “I’ve heard about it. I bet some butches and guys like you are softies in bed, and some girls who look feminine are crazy-wild passionate and assertive.”

  “You’re right. My ex looked feminine and took total control in bed. I loved that about her.”

  I quickly change the subject. “I need to speak to you alone, soon.” I’m dying to come clean about everything.

  “Okay.” He starts talking about Gisela and how he doesn’t like every feminine-looking girl he meets. “She’s not my type with that hair that looks like a soft ringlet Afro, and the solar energy, intellectual look. Don’t get me wrong. I can get into big curvy girls with junk in their trunk, but I’m just not into the environmentalist-looking types. The braces don’t do it for me, either. You’re all natural, but you don’t look it or flaunt it. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah.” I feel relieved Tazer isn’t into her and change the topic. Now I start talking with everyone about that and this.

  We finish our meal. On our way out, I sneak a card into my pocket, with the name, phone number and address of the restaurant.

  13—H8ing

  I’m placing my red tall handlebar bike I painted yellow-orange flames on the frame, in Tazer’s shed. I’m glad Marco isn’t around. Since today’s our last day working here, Tazer invited us for breakfast at six a.m. I’m here fifteen minutes early. Angel won’t be here till seven.

  “Hey! ¿Qué pasa?” Tazer kisses my cheek. “Those are mighty fine looking golfing slacks.” I smile. After I wore down my jade green and black checkered, loose-fitting thrift-shop pants, I turned them into ankle-short hip-huggers.

  That’s another thing I learned from my mother: how to transform old clothes into a brand-new look.

  “You’re looking mighty spiffy yourself.” He’s wearing a thin silver necklace, loose-fitting blue jeans and a maroon T-shirt with large yellow letters that say “I Don’t Bite.” Underneath those words, in small fine print, it states, “Unless you want me to.” Tazer is gorgeous to look at.

  Surprisingly, the moment doesn’t feel awkward.

  I plant a kiss on his cheek and sing, “Tazeroni Macaroni was riding on a pony, eatin’ some baloney . . .” The sides of his mouth curl up. “I can’t wait to chow down. I’m starved.” Suddenly, he starts looking at me with a sparkle in his eyes, and I can’t stop thinking about Gisela. How unfortunate is that? But I’m such a chicken. I’ll probably never call Gisela—I’m sure I’m not her type—or date Tazer.

  A few bees buzz by and I quickly move out of the way.

  “My nanny went through a beekeeper stage,” he tells me. “For a time, we had bees all over our yard and so much honey we didn’t know what to do with it. Once, I was in my little plastic pool with friends. A bee stung the tip of my nose. For two days I looked as if I’d grown a testicle on my face.”

  He entertains me with hilarious stories about when he was a kid. I learn he was the opposite of what he looks like now. When he turned fourteen he sprouted from being short and pudgy. His nanny dressed him as he liked: in boy pants and shirts. After he told his dad he was male, his open-minded father allowed him to have a short boy’s buzzed haircut. His dad always wanted a boy anyway.

  We’re interrupted and look toward a sleek black car coming into the half-moon driveway.

  Camila’s big brother drops her off and waves goodbye. We greet each other with kisses on our cheeks. I remember Tazer likes feminine girls and hope his focus stays on Camila.

  Che honks, “Yo, Dudes!” and parks his rusty, dented, green pickup truck in Tazer’s driveway. Everyone except Jaylene is riding in the back. The rowdy crew piles out next to us.

  “Where’s Jaylene?” I ask.

  Che bites off his gloves and stuffs them in his blue jean shorts pocket. “That stinking jerk? I asked her out because she was giving me too much attention the other day. Some girls act like they hate you when they really want you. She blew me off and called me a ‘misogynist’ yet again. That was uncalled for. You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let her ride in my truck.” As if his vehicle were his teeny ding-dong! I’d rather ride on a mule to work than in his nasty truck! Jaylene is right. The guy seems to not respect girls too much.

  Tazer dives in. “Hey, I’ve been rejected by many girls. So what?” He turns to look at me and his eyeballs land back on Che.

  “Why can’t you two see she’s a man-hater?” Che says. “I don’t buy that she likes guys. She’s a lesbian separatist with an agenda disguising herself as bi. Don’t you hear the shit she talks about males being inferior to females?”

  “She says that to piss you off, not because she hates all guys,” Tazer says.

  “I don’t buy it. She’s a Nazi feminist dyke who give guys a bad name.”

  “Only you can give yourself a bad name,” I tell him. “I’ve heard her talk about boys she’s dated she really cares about and respects. It’s not as if she’s going to rub her gayness or politics on your truck and leave a big queer smudge.” I’m surprised Che hasn’t talked bad about Tazer, yet. It’s probably because he’s working for his father.

  I lie and tell Che my cousin Manny is gay and I love him to death. I ask him, “So, what event in your life caused your heterosexuality, and why do you insist on telling people you like girls?”

  Tazer laughs, but Che just stands there shaking his head.

  Out of nowhere, London, better known as Luscious Lez, drives inside the gates in a black Jeep. My jaw drops open. He gets off and introduces himself by shaking hands with everyone. “I’m London. Just came a sec t
o talk to Shai.”

  I look to Tazer, who seems as confused as me. What the heck could this guy be doing here?

  He takes me to the side, away from everyone, under a tall coconut palm tree. “Soli told me you were working at this address today.” He goes into his pocket for a rubber band and ties his long wavy hair back into a ponytail.

  I look up at him and sway from foot to foot. “So?” My heart is racing something fast. I don’t know why I’m giving scum the time of day.

  “Just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I didn’t know Jon was spiking the drinks with X’s.” His dark eyes meet mine and they seem honest. “That was horrible.”

  I take a few steps back. “What a jerk of a friend. It’s disgusting. Does he do that to every girl?” I’ve heard of guys drugging girls and riding them to their apartments then taking advantage of them. Sicko pervs aren’t my idea of fun.

  He shrugs his shoulders, lowers his eyes, and stuffs his large hands into his tight black jean pockets. “It was my birthday. I turned eighteen, and he gave me and all my friends free drinks.” He stares at his red high-top sneakers. “I didn’t know he was spiking the drinks with X’s. Trust me, Shai. You’ve got to believe me. He knows I’m not into drugs.” He shakes his head. “I’ve already cussed him out. I’m really sorry.”

  I take a closer look at him. Something about his large, dark eyes, plump red lips and flushed cheeks remind me of a boy I had a mad crush on for years, before Marlena. Thai Buenavista was one of my mom’s best friend’s son. Our families got together on holidays on his parents’ boat for barbecues and cruises around Miami to watch fireworks. Once, I asked Thai out to a movie with my friends CC, Olivia and me. He said, “Okay. Can I bring Carina, my girlfriend?” My heart dropped.

  I wonder if London or Tazer would still be into me if I still looked like I did just a few years ago.

  I dig holes into his eyes. “It sucked.” I don’t feel much like talking to a guy who has a friend who’s a perv, even if he looks like the biggest boy crush I ever had.

  “I know. But you’ve got to believe that I had nothing to do with it.” He kicks a rock out of the way. “Soli told me you’re sixteen. I thought you were my age. You look older.”

  “So what? Does that mean it’s okay for that imbecile to drug me without my knowledge?” I’m getting really pissed now. Who knows? Even though I highly doubt it, I might have tried X one day on my own, but not having a choice wasn’t cool.

  “That’s not what I meant. I told Jon he could be put in jail for drugging a minor. He’s really crazed. I’m not talking to him again.” He grabs my hand and blurts, “I hope he didn’t screw it up for me and you. Can we go out sometime?”

  I’m taken aback. Suddenly, out of nowhere, this guy comes here to ask for my forgiveness and a date? Weird. What else can happen? Is Neruda going to start talking? Will Viva begin to bark and howl in the middle of the night? I tell him the truth. “I’m going through a breakup right now. It’s painful and I’ll probably be a terrible date.”

  He steps in closer to me and says with a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t mind being your rebound.” I feel I’ve been a tourist in a labyrinth with borders, and now I can step outside territories once closed to me.

  If I date him, I bet it’ll hurt Tazer’s feelings, though. I don’t think I should. I need to stop being a coward and ask Gisela out. That’s who my heart really feels like spending time with.

  I get back to the old topic. “Why did you walk away at Papaya’s and not confront Soli?” I thought he was a punk-ass-chicken to do that. I wouldn’t date such a wimp.

  “You saw how Soli got. We work together, for crying out loud, but she hasn’t even let me say a word to her till today. I thought I’d have a better chance at seeing you again if I left Soli alone so she could let out steam. I even had Jon call her and talk to her. He told her I knew nothing, that it was his fault.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know what to say. I guess he’s being honest. If Soli talked to him it must mean he’s all right. It’s too bad we aren’t allowed cells on the job and can’t text anyone or I’d ask Soli what’s going on.

  Just as I think I might muster up some courage to call Gisela or even give Tazer a chance, this happens. A genetic guy, of all things, comes into my upside-down life!

  There’s a profound silence between us and he breaks the ice. “So, what’s your sign? I’m a Libra. I bet we were meant to meet.”

  “I don’t know a thing about astrology, but it seems to box and label everyone. I’m not a robot or a puppet of the cosmos. I’m a free spirit and don’t want to know the course of my life on a daily basis. I prefer surprises.” I won’t give him an inch. “I don’t act like my sign says I’m supposed to, anyway.”

  “I’m not really into astrology, either, but most girls are so I laid that one on you.”

  “Genius move, player.”

  As he speaks I think about walking with Gisela on the beach at night, until the sun comes up. We’ll go on paths through wooded areas with a speckled sky and moon glowing above us . . .

  I glance at my watch. “Hey, thanks for coming and explaining, but I need to get back to work.”

  “I’ve got Soli’s digits. She says you’re living with her. Can I buzz you?”

  I veer my eyes away from his, toward the crew. “Yeah.” I don’t want to give him my cell digits. He can call me at Soli’s house phone.

  We say our goodbyes and walk toward his car.

  As London is about to climb into his Jeep, Che grabs him by the arm. He slaps his back. “Dude, you’re a lucky dog. You’ve got the prettiest girl in Miami.”

  London shoves his hands in his jean pockets. “Me?” I stare up at a cloud and watch the sun slide out from behind it.

  Che winks at me. “My friend Pincho El Flaco was at Papaya’s on Sunday.” His friend Pincho comes here on his lunch breaks. He and Che smoke weed and shoot the shit when Angel or Marco aren’t around. “Pincho goes to mixed clubs to try to pick up tortilleras and bi’s for threesomes. He saw you kissing a thin tall guy with long black hair.” He slaps London’s shoulder. Must be you, no?”

  London cracks his knuckles. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Tazer’s eyes show disappointment. He hadn’t seen him kiss me.

  Jaylene drives in with her little blue truck. Saved by the belle! “Hey, guys!” She’s always cheery.

  Tazer gives her a big husky hug. They slap each other’s backs like football players do. They’re becoming close friends. I kiss her cheek. “Hey, Keen Mean Jaylene.” London introduces himself and they shake hands.

  Jaylene greets everyone else. Che doesn’t greet her back. I guess she doesn’t care what he thinks of her.

  George pats my back. “So you and London, eh? Nice couple.”

  “What’s going on?” Jaylene asks.

  Tazer shrugs. “Your guess is better than mine.”

  “It’s not what it seems.” London tries to explain.

  Everyone teases him. “Yeah. Yeah. We know.”

  He stops brushing aside the comments. I think he’s liking the idea because he can’t take the big grin off his face.

  Everyone keeps teasing us, so I cave in with a triumphant smile. It feels great to be getting so much positive attention. I goof off. “A’ite. A’ite. So we kissed, okay? So what?”

  London looks to me with gleaming eyes. I slowly look away.

  El Tigre sings in Spanish, “Love is in the air!” He slaps London on the back a few times.

  I’m feeling pretty damned accepted. I hate to admit it, but Betrayer was right. This beats being thrown out of the house. It keeps a big smile on my lips till I face Tazer. He stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet.

  “Let’s have breakfast. Follow me.” Tazer waves his hand. “You too, London.”

  London grabs my hand and I allow it. “Show us around,” he asks Tazer. “I’ve never been inside a mansion.”

  “All right. Let’s go!”

  We
follow Tazer through the arched entrance of the coral rock mansion and walk through huge marble columns and carved wooden doors.

  The long spacey hall opens into a living room with white marble floors, as large as a skating rink. Light sneaks in through lavender-colored windows. He takes us through a long hallway with tons of mirrors, hanging chandeliers and paintings, then upstairs. “It’s got seven bedrooms. This is the library.”

  I look around. The dark wood ceiling, gigantic windows, and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books makes me feel as if I’m inside a cathedral bookstore.

  Everyone gasps. “Amazing! Outrageous!”

  It’s odd to be standing here, thinking some people live in cardboard boxes under the expressway.

  I guess Mami and Pedri might now be living in a villa like this one. Jaime is wealthy. Mami was ecstatic he’d be taking us out of our old neighborhood. I wonder if Jaime is going with her, as I used to, to speak to Pedri’s teachers. Without me there to help him, I’m sure Pedri’s doing poorly in school.

  Tazer takes us back down to the dining room. The central air’s temperature is freezing cold. Sulima—the Nicaraguan housekeeper—takes everyone’s backpacks. She places them on the sparkling floor next to an elegant, velvet bone-colored living room couch.

  Crystal lamps hang by thin glass chains in different parts of the room, glowing a soft golden color. Bright flowers in glass vases are all around the dining room. The air smells like crushed gardenias. We sit at the table.

  Our breakfast is tortilla de chorizo, pastelitos de queso and jugo de naranja. Sulima—dressed in white from head to toe—brings in fresh loaves of oven-baked Cuban bread that fills the dining room with smells of toasty butter.

  There are plenty of Cuban millionaires in Miami. I guess in some ways, Tazer is lucky. This place is gorgeous and I’d live here in a jiffy. But if I had so much money, I wouldn’t spend it on a mansion for two. I’d buy a modest house next to a wildlife reserve as my backyard and build little domes for the homeless. I know Tazer feels the same way, but it’s his dad’s “castle” and there’s nothing he can do about it.