The Year We Became Invincible

by Mae Coyiuto

  I wanted to not care. I reminded myself about how angry I was at Dad and how he treated Ian the other night, but seeing him like that made my anger less important. All I wanted to do was hug him, but I went back to my room instead. When I heard a knock, hours later, I thought it was my dad.

  “Come in,” I said.

  “Hi.”

  It was my mom.

  “How’re you?” she asked.

  “I’m okay.”

  I never felt comfortable talking with my mom. Whenever she said something, I always thought she meant something else. When I tried to talk to her, I felt like she wasn’t interested in what I said. I guess over the years, we gave up on communication.

  She sat down at the foot of my bed and said, “I wanted to see how you were about Berkeley.”

  “Oh…I’m fine.”

  “Okay, that’s good.”

  My mom sat there and drummed her fingers on the bed.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time when I was going to go for medical school?” she asked.

  “No…”

  “My father, your grandfather, had very strong ideals. He was also very conservative. He believed that a woman’s first and most important duty is to take care of the household. My mom was like that. She was there for me and my four other siblings. After college, your dad asked me to marry him, and I said yes. At that time, I also wanted to go to medical school. Your grandfather was telling me I didn’t need to be a doctor. The career force is a man’s world, and the household was the woman’s. I was going to be a wife and a mother—I didn’t have time for anything else.”

  “But you still applied.”

  “Yes. I went behind his back and…when I got the decision, I didn’t pass…. During that time, I told your father that it was a sign. Maybe, I should give up on going to medical school and listen to my father. He then told me something that I really needed to hear, and I think you need to hear it too.”

  “What?”

  “He told me, ‘Don’t let the disillusion of your dreams ever stop you from dreaming.’”

  Right when she said it, everything I was holding back sank in. The fear and the worries I ran away from finally caught up with me. I think that was the only time when I really processed the rejection. Tears streamed down my face as my mom stroked my hair.

  “It’s the first time that I have no idea where I’m going…or what I want to do…I feel so lost.”

  “Camille, that’s okay. You’re 18—you don’t have to figure all of that out right now. Do you think I have it all figured out? There are times when I feel lost, too. But you shouldn’t stop trying to find your own way.”

  “What if I decide not to be a doctor? I don’t want to disappoint Dad anymore…”

  “Camille, you don’t have to be your dad. You don’t have to be your mom. All you have to do is be you.”

  My mom was smiling, and up close, I realized that she had lost a lot of weight. Her cheeks looked hollow, and the bags under her eyes were deeper.

  “Mom…are you okay?”

  “Me? Yes. Why?”

  “You just look really tired lately and…you and Dad have been fighting all the time…”

  She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “You hear us fighting?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry…I guess we don’t do a great job of hiding…”

  “Why do you fight all the time?”

  “You know, Camille…the start of any relationship is always easy. When you first fall in love with someone, you only see the good things. But after a while…life seeps in. You have to deal with problems that you and your partner aren’t really ready for. The problems make you choose not to see the good things, and that makes you forget. There are days where you fight and say things you don’t mean, and…it hurts."

  My mom closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

  “But despite what you hear, I still see the good things in your father. I’m not an expert at marriage or parenting, and your father isn’t either…We’re trying, Camille, I’m sorry if it doesn’t look like it, but we’re trying…”

  Sometimes, in really tricky situations, I have a hard time finding the right words to say. I embraced my mom because that felt like the right thing to do. She held me tightly and stroked my hair.

  “Can you do me a favor?” my mom asked. “I’m not saying you have to do it all at once now, but don’t shut your father out. There is nothing in this world that your father loves more than he loves you. Just give him some time.”

  I nodded.

  “I hope it’s not too late for him and your sister…” she sighed as she kept stroking my hair. “Did you do something to your hair?”

  “I just changed the parting a little bit.”

  “It really brings out the roundness of your cheeks.”

  Translation: I love you, but the parting in your hair makes you look fat.

  Looking forward to meet you,

  Camille

  Dear Future Partner,

  I was glued to my phone. I jumped whenever I heard it ring. Yesterday, I was so frustrated when the only message I received was a notice about my phone bill. I even threw my phone across the room. I was tired of waiting for him to call. I was tired of waiting for him to reply. Today was the day that I stopped waiting.

  “What are you doing?” Jenny asked.

  I went into the ballet studio with all my gear and joined the class while they were stretching.

  “I’m dancing,” I said.

  “Did Teacher Jessie allow you to come back?”

  “No.”

  That’s when Teacher Jessie walked in. Her dagger eyes spotted me right away.

  “I told you that we don’t have room for you in here.”

  “But ma’am, I want to be here.”

  “I have enough dancers in my class.”

  “Then I’ll watch.”

  “What?”

  “You said you have enough dancers, ma’am. Do you have enough audience members, too?”

  She looked at me and pursed her lips. She walked away and started instructing the class. I sat on the sidelines and watched. I watched as the dancers did pliés on the barre and when they did Grand Allegros in the center. I studied their form, their timing, and took down every critique Teacher Jessie said. They went on to rehearse for the recital, and I did my best to memorize the routine. After a while, the combinations were continuously replaying in my head. When they finished, I stayed until all the dancers had left.

  “Class is over,” Teacher Jessie said.

  “Ma’am, can I please use the studio to practice?”

  She gave me the same look and handed me the keys. “Lock up when you’re done.”

  “When will I give back the keys?”

  “Bring it to class tomorrow.”

  I was in the studio for hours. My body never knew such exhaustion, and yet, I didn’t care. But there was something else I had to take care of. I called Felix, and thankfully he was still awake.

  Looking forward to meet you,

  Camille

  Dear Future Partner,

  Every time I get hurt, I pretend an imaginary scar is ripping my skin. It’s easier to notice the scars once they’re already there. It’s harder to see them when they’re only about to come. Those are the scars I choose not to see.

  Felix told me to meet him at the basketball court in the park. I saw him waiting by the entrance. His height always made him easy to spot.

  “Thanks for doing this, Felix.”

  “Yeah, of course. It took a lot of convincing.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I said all my teammates were busy, and I needed someone to play one-on-one with.”

  “I really owe you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I actually have practice, so I’m going to head out. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Good luck.”

  I could tell from Ian’s voice that he didn’t
expect me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  Ian didn’t look at me. He kept on dribbling.

  “Since when did you become interested in basketball?”

  No answer.

  “Can we talk?”

  “I came here to play, not to talk.”

  He continued dribbling.

  “Okay. You play and I’ll talk…. You were right, okay? I don’t know what your life is like, and it was wrong for me to tell my parents about your mom without asking you. You know what else I don’t know?”

  He kept dribbling, so I kept going. It felt like I was performing a monologue.

  “I don’t know what it’s like to have a mind like yours. I don’t care what your mom or even my dad says, but you are beyond smart. Like no one thinks or even talks like you. So many people would kill to have what you’ve got. Do you know how many would do ANYTHING to have what you’re offered? You’re not weak, Ian, but you sure are acting like you are. God, this scholarship is an incredible opportunity, and you’re the one choosing to let it go, not your mom…You can’t always blame your past for what you choose to do right now.”

  He didn’t move his gaze from the basketball hoop. He was shooting baskets, but he wasn’t making any.

  “Right now, you have me. I’m here for you, but you’re the one who’s shutting me out. Are you going to let me slip away too?”

  Still nothing.

  That was when I had it. Remember the blurt reflex I told you about? It was on full force. Everything suddenly exploded out of me. I told him that he was the biggest hypocrite I had ever met. He kept telling me to tell the truth when he’s never honest with himself. I told him that all that living impromptu, go-with-the-flow philosophy he had was total bullshit. I told him that even though I didn’t exactly achieve the life plan he always mocked, at least, I tried. I asked him if he ever tried for anything—anything at all. I told him that I couldn’t be in a relationship where I was the only one trying.

  All he said was: “Thanks for being honest.”

  When he said those words, I knew that was it.

  Looking forward to meet you,

  Camille

  Dear Future Partner,

  I remember the whole Schwarz study that he told me about. Maybe coming up with a list of things I like and don’t like about Ian would help.

  What I like about Ian:

  His outrageously bad dancing

  His passion for adventure

  The “Hm” sound he makes when he actually has something to say

  The way he smiles and how his dimple pops up whenever he sees me

  The fact that he’s a smart ass and he knows it

  How he can get 12 hours of sleep and have eye bags the size of bananas

  The way I feel when I’m with him

  What I don't like about Ian:

  The way how He doesn’t love me back.

  I don’t think this is the best idea.

  Looking forward to meet you,

  Camille

  Dear Future Partner,

  This is my first letter in a while. I don’t think I’m okay yet.

  Everything and everywhere I went somehow reminded me of Ian. Like when I heard a rap song on the radio or whenever I passed by the coffee house. Even if I didn’t see anything that reminded me of him, my mind flooded itself with memories. What sucked even more was that I could only remember the happy ones.

  Ballet has been my savior. When I was dancing, I thought of nothing else. I didn’t get to join the class for weeks, but that didn’t stop me from going. I went there every day. I watched the other dancers from their warm-up to their rehearsal and I stayed to practice by myself until my blisters had blisters. I thought today wouldn’t be any different.

  “What are you doing on the floor?” Teacher Jessie scolded me.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” I said as I scooted to the side.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I thought you wanted me to move…”

  “Get up!”

  I was so confused and flustered that I ended up slipping instead of standing up.

  “Camille, you’re holding everybody back. Hurry up!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I went to the barre and joined the rest of the dancers. Teacher Jessie singled me out a lot during the class and rehearsal, but I couldn’t help but smile every time she did. After class, Teacher Jessie went up to me and asked, “How many do you need?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “How many tickets do you need?”

  “For what?”

  “The recital—of course! Doesn’t your family want to watch?”

  I was in the recital?

  “Oh. Four…I guess.”

  She handed me four tickets and wrote on her clipboard.

  I didn’t care if it was Teacher Jessie. I hugged her. Before she pulled away, she whispered, “You’re welcome.”

  She started to walk away as she said, “Don’t think this means you can relax, Camille. You’re still very behind.”

  “Actually, can I have four more?”

  She pursed her lips as she said, “You want eight tickets?”

  “I have a big family.”

  I knew the people that I wanted to be there weren’t “family members,” if you were using the strict bloodline definition. Anyway, Teacher Jessie didn’t need to know everything. After rehearsal, I sent out a text:

  “Want to go on an adventure?”

  Maybe, I’m not okay yet, but I will be.

  Looking forward to meet you,

  Camille

  Dear Future Partner,

  I’m not going to lie. I was excited for my prom. I thought it was going to be like the movies where I would have the perfect dress and dance with the perfect guy. It didn’t turn out like that. No one asked me, and I didn’t go with a crush or a boy I liked. But I didn’t spend prom night crying at home. It was nice. It was a night where girls like me, the ones who usually blended in with the crowd, had the guts to be visible. I didn’t expect that others would have very mixed feelings about things like school dances.

  Felix looked swoon-worthy. He wore a classic black tuxedo with a green bowtie. Anyone else with the same outfit would’ve looked like a waiter. Gabby looked like a Victoria’s Secret Angel on the way to meet the queen. She wore a silver gown that had a slit up to her knee. Classy but edgy. Rica was so Rica. She could’ve passed as an extra member of her favorite rock band. The mix of eye shadow and eyeliner on her was stunning.

  “So where is this mysterious place that you made us all dress up for?” Felix asked.

  “Senior ball,” I said.

  “But that’s so…normal,” Gabby said.

  “A dance? We’re going to a school dance?!” Rica said.

  “Wait. Which senior ball are we going to? All of ours are not for another two weeks,” Felix said.

  “There are three different schools that have their ball tonight. We’re going to crash all of them.”

  “It’s not that risky though…” Gabby said.

  “No way in hell am I going to a school dance,” Rica muttered.

  “C’mon, guys. You two couldn’t wait when I told you Cam had an adventure in mind. This could actually be kinda fun.” Felix said.

  “Alright. I’m down,” Gabby said.

  The three of us looked at Rica.

  “Nope. I am not going to an event that goes against everything that I stand for…” Rica said as she started walking away.

  “You can document it,” Felix suggested.

  Rica paused and said, “I’ll get my video camera.”

  As we went in the car, I pulled Felix aside.

  “Did you tell Ian?”

  “Um yeah, I did. He said he had something going on…”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry, Camille. I’m sure he would’ve…”

  “It’s okay. I’m just sorry he’s going to miss out. That’s all.”

  I knew it
was a long shot that he would come, but I couldn’t help hoping.

  Senior Ball # 1

  Food: F

  Music: D

  Theme: C–

  The first senior ball we went to had a “Spring Break” theme. The school’s gym floor was filled with sand. But either a lot of drinks, sweat, or other types of liquid spilled, so the sand felt more like mud. The music was electronic dubstep that sounded like the same song playing on loop. There wasn’t any food because apparently “nobody eats during a real spring break.”

  “What causes fairly sane teenage girls to go deranged on nights like these? The school dance—the socially constructed event passed on from generation to generation, which says it’s okay for girls to spend extensive amounts of cash as long as they please the man. Here we are in Exhibit A: girls in gowns and heels starve and trudge on mud,” Rica narrated as she panned the gym with her video camera.

  “It is…original,” I said.

  “If they were going to go all out with the Spring Break idea, they might as well have changed the attire or the venue,” Gabby said.

  “Ouch. That girl just got awarded ‘Squid of the Night,’” Felix said.

  “She seems proud about it,” I said.

  “Girls are brainwashed to fight for titles like ‘Prom Queen’ or in this case, ‘Squid of the Night’…” Rica continued.

  “Okay. My shoes are getting ruined, and I’m getting a headache from this music. Who here is ready for ball number 2?” Gabby said.

  We all raised our hand.

  Senior Ball # 2

  Food: A–

  Music: A (well for me)

  Theme: B–

  The second ball we crashed was hosted by the very prestigious Westmont Academy. It was in a hotel function room, and the place was breathtaking. It looked straight out of a fairy tale. There was an actual castle inside the room. Felix, Gabby, and I sat at a table with two other couples, who didn’t seem to notice that we didn’t go to the school.

  “Would you fancy some tea?” Gabby said in a British accent (which was pretty convincing).

  “What’s with the accent?” I laughed.