Life, After

by Sarah Darer Littman

  A toilet flushed and I missed part of what she said next.

  “…if you had to move to a different country where they spoke another language and you didn’t know anyone and you were separated from your boyfriend?”

  “Mike better not even move across town or I’ll kill him!” Coty said. “But if he did, I guess that would suck and I’d feel pretty lonely.”

  Another toilet flushed and then I heard running water as they washed their hands at the sink.

  “Yeah. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever see him again. And I know how awful that is.”

  Even over the sound of the water pouring out of the taps in the echoing confines of the bathroom, I could hear the feeling in Jessica’s voice. I wondered what was behind it.

  The bathroom door opened and as they left, I heard Jess tell Coty, “All I’m saying is, maybe we should be a little nicer to her, okay?”

  She was definitely Not So Evil After All Jess.

  Chapter Fourteen

  S O, EVITA, I hear you’ve got a mean right hook,” Brian said as we were walking down the hall after History. “I’m going to have to be careful what I say around you from now on.”

  I wasn’t sure what a “right hook” was, but figured it must have something to do with hitting Trevor. I blushed.

  “I’m really not a violent person by nature,” I told him. “It’s just that Trevor had Jon’s notebook and I know how much it means to him and—”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “Relax—I was kidding, okay?”

  “Oh…okay.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re one of these idealistic types, who fights for the underdog.”

  “The underdog?”

  “The person who’s expected to lose in a struggle—like in a Jon-versus-Trevor matchup, Jon would definitely be the underdog.”

  “I just did it because Jon’s my friend and he was so upset—if you’d seen him, Brian, I’m sure you would have done the same.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not as brave as you are, Dani.”

  I thought of all the things I was afraid of—Papá being depressed forever, Beto finding someone else, bombs blowing up people in my family and planes crashing into buildings, running into Jess in the hallway—although maybe after yesterday, not so much that—and being poor for the rest of my life.

  “I think you’ve got me mistaken for someone else, Mr. GPS. I’m one of the biggest cowards that ever lived.”

  He stopped outside the door to my next class, where two girls were trying to affix a huge poster to the wall.

  “You need a hand?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” one of them said. “Can you stick those two corners up there?”

  “Sure.”

  He took the poster and tacked the upper edges to the wall, while the girls taped down the lower corners.

  “So what’s this for?” he asked. “Oh…the Winter Wonderland Dance, hmmm…I guess I’ll have to find myself a date for that.”

  The girls smiled up at him hopefully, but he was looking straight at me. I blushed and looked away. Just because he was looking at me didn’t mean he was going to ask me, but I had a boyfriend. At least I thought I did.

  “I’d better get to class,” I said, and headed into the classroom before Brian could say anything other than “Bye.”

  I had to speak to Beto. I decided to go the library that night and IM him or e-mail him to get his phone number and then ask Jessica if I could use her cell phone to call him. She seemed sincere about it, and I was desperate.

  It was hard to concentrate on my homework because I was counting down the minutes till after dinner when I could go to the library. When Sarita got home it was even worse, because she was even more of a chatterbox than usual.

  “We did square dancing in gym today and it was really fun except sometimes you had to hold hands with boys and some of them had sweaty hands. Do you find that boys have sweaty hands sometimes? Why do some boys have sweaty hands and other boys don’t? I don’t like it when they have sweaty hands. When I get married, I’m going to make sure the boy I marry doesn’t have sweaty hands,” she said, seemingly all without taking a breath.

  “Well, Beto didn’t have sweaty hands,” I told her. “Doesn’t, I mean.”

  “How do you know? Did you square dance with him?”

  “Um…no. We held hands sometimes when we were walking, just like I do with you.”

  “Oh.”

  She jumped onto my bed and leaned her chin into her hands.

  “So did you and Roberto ever do kissy-face with each other? Because I can’t imagine ever kissing a boy. It’s disgusting. I know people do it, but eeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwww! So did you? Ever kiss?”

  How was I supposed to concentrate on my geometry problems with that kind of running commentary? And how was I supposed to answer Sari about kissing?

  “Well…we…I…yes, we did. Sometimes.”

  “¡Ay, qué asco! That’s horrible. How did you stand it? Didn’t it make you want to throw up? I think it would make me want to throw up.”

  I thought about sitting in the park, under the ombú tree, and of Beto’s kisses. How they were anything but horrible. How being there with Roberto after school each day was the one thing I looked forward to when everything else was so awful because of the Crisis. How I wished I were there with him now.

  “No, Sari. It didn’t make me want to throw up. It was…nice. Really very pleasant.”

  She stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted face, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  “No, I won’t. I’m never going to kiss anyone except for you and Mamá and Papá and Tío Jacobo. And if Mamá and Papá ever let me get a puppy, I’ll kiss the puppy.”

  Privately, I knew two things: 1) that Sari would change her mind eventually and 2) that there was virtually no chance of our parents ever letting her get a puppy. But I was happy to let her think about kissing puppies. Anything to keep her quiet for long enough for me to get my geometry problems finished.

  Mamá was exhausted when she got home from work, and she was so grateful that I’d made dinner and organized Sarita’s lunch for the next day that she didn’t question me too much about going out.

  “Take some quarters so you can call Papá to walk you home when you’re finished,” she said.

  Even though the nights were getting darker, I didn’t want to face the awkward silence walking home with my father.

  “It’s okay, Mamá. My friend Rosalia is going to be at the library and her mother will give me a ride home.”

  It scared me how easily the lie came out of my mouth, and how small was the twinge of guilt that accompanied it.

  “Well, I’ll see you later, then,” Mamá said. She brushed a stray hair out of my face and patted my cheek. “Gracias, preciosa.”

  “De nada,” I replied. Suddenly the guilt twinge felt a whole lot bigger, but I stuffed the feeling down and headed out to the library.

  Beto wasn’t online when I logged on to MSN, and I felt sick with disappointment. Instead, I composed a long e-mail to Gaby, telling her about how things were going at school (better) and home (the same) and I was just starting to write to her about my anxieties about Beto when I noticed that he’d logged in.

  Hola! I typed. What’s up?

  Not much. What’s up with you?

  Well, a girl lent me her phone to call you today and I realized I didn’t have your phone number.

  Exactly. So are you going to give it to me?

  Sure. I have my own cell.

  He gave me the number and I wrote it in my history notebook.

  Thanks. Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.

  Cool.

  It would be nice to hear your voice.

  Me too.

  I miss you.

  Miss you too.

  How are things?

  Busy.

  What you up to?

  School. And football—we’re having a great season. I’m the lead scorer
in our league.

  Maravilloso!

  What about you?

  Nothing special. School. Helping out at home. The usual.

  Made new friends?

  Some. You?

  Yes. Being on the team is good for that.

  I wish we could see each other.

  I watched the cursor, waiting for his response. I wanted him to say, “Yes, me too. Maybe I can fly up to New York,” even though I knew it was impossible.

  Yeah. But not sure how that’s going to happen.

  I knew it was true. But it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  GTG, Dani. Talk to you soon?

  Already? But he just logged on.

  I’ll try to call you tomorrow. Buenas noches.

  Adios!

  Even though I had Roberto’s phone number, I felt even more depressed as I logged out of MSN. It’s not like I expected an IM chat to be the epitome of romance, but there just seemed to be something…missing from our “conversation.” It occurred to me that he must have had his own cell phone for a while, but hadn’t told me, or tried to call me, when calling him would have been the very first thing I would have done if I could have afforded to get one.

  Feeling like I had a vise around my heart, I finished up my e-mail to Gaby. I took out the parts about Beto, though.

  I was afraid to write about my fears, in case by voicing them in black-and-white pixels on the computer screen, I somehow made them come true.

  It was dark when I walked home, and, if I had to admit it, a little frightening in one place where the street light had burned out. Part of me wished I had Papá walking beside me, however silent and uncomfortable it might be.

  The next morning at school I felt queasy with anticipation, waiting for the moment until I could ask Jessica if I could borrow her cell phone. What if the day before had just been an aberration, and she’d gone back to being Evil Jess again? What if I spent the whole morning daydreaming of hearing Beto’s voice, and she laughed in my face when I asked her?

  The minute hand on the clock seemed to be moving through honey, time was passing so slowly.

  “Why are you so antsy today, Dani?” Brian asked me after History.

  “Antsy? What do you mean?”

  “Nervous. Fidgety. You could barely sit still the entire class. And you must have looked at the clock every thirty seconds.”

  “Oh. No reason.”

  Brian gave me a skeptical look. “Well, you just looked at the clock again. It’s approximately twenty seconds later than the last time you looked.”

  I gathered up my notebooks and headed for the hallway. Brian followed.

  “So, did they have many social activities at your school in Buenos Aires?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did you have things like…I don’t know…Winter Wonderland Dances, for instance?”

  “No, not that sort of thing. I went to a Jewish day school, so we had parties for different Jewish holidays but not just a dance for the sake of having a dance.”

  “Well, I think it’s an important part of your American education to attend a dance just for the sake of having a dance.”

  He stopped and smiled down at me. “And I’d like to be the one to take you to it.”

  I felt hot and cold at the same time. He couldn’t possibly be asking me this. Not now. Not when I was finally about to talk to Beto after so many months.

  “Uh, I take it you don’t like the idea. In fact, it looks like it fills you with extreme panic.” Brian shrugged and gave me a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It was just an idea. For your cultural education—not because I have any untoward intentions. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

  “I’m sorry, Brian, I just…”

  I couldn’t explain to him that all I could think of at that moment was getting through the morning so I could ask Jess if I could borrow her cell phone. I couldn’t explain to him that I needed to know how things stood with Roberto before I could even think about going to a dance with him.

  “I’ve got to get to class,” I said, and raced off down the hall like a complete and utter coward.

  I saw Jess at lunch, but she was with all her friends and I didn’t have the courage to go up and ask her in front of them in case she said no.

  “Jon,” I said, “Do you think you could ask Jess about the phone for me?”

  “What about the phone?”

  “Remember yesterday she said I could borrow her cell phone to call my boyfriend, Roberto?”

  “Yes. Why don’t you call him on yours?”

  I felt a flush rise up my neck. Since everyone at my school seemed to have a cell phone it was incredibly embarrassing to have to admit it, but…

  “Because…I don’t have one.”

  “Oh. I’d let you use mine but I forgot to charge it last night so I left it at home.”

  “Well, thanks but, well, I finally got my boyfriend’s telephone number in Miami last night, and I’d really like to try to call him today if she’ll let me borrow her phone. Do you think she was serious about letting me use it?”

  “She said so. Do you want me to go ask her?”

  “Would you?”

  He got up and went over to where Jess sat with Coty and the rest of her gang. She looked up and smiled at him in a way that I know she would never have done if it had been me. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but Jess looked over in my direction—as did all of the other girls—and she smiled and nodded and gave me the thumbs-up. I felt a wave of relief so big it almost brought tears to my eyes, but I could not, no, I would not, start crying in the middle of the cafeteria for the second day in a row.

  “Jess says to meet her by the trophy cabinet right after school ends,” Jon said when he came back to the table. “She said she’ll call our mom and tell her to pick us up half an hour late so you have time to talk. You can take her phone somewhere quiet to call your Roberto.”

  That’s if he still is my Roberto.

  If the first half of the day moved slowly, getting through the second half was even worse torture—every second seemed to take a minute, every minute, an hour. I didn’t know whether to cheer or cry when the bell finally rang signaling the end of the day. My stomach was churning and I had to force myself to focus on what books I needed to take out of my locker for homework. All I could think of was dialing Roberto’s number and hearing his voice. All I could hope was that in half an hour’s time I’d feel reassured that he still loved me, that he was still my novio, that things were still as they had been between us, even though we were far apart.

  When I got to the trophy case, Jess wasn’t there. What if she forgot? This isn’t that important to her. She doesn’t care if I get to speak to Roberto or not. I’ll die if I’ve gone through the entire day and I don’t get to speak to him! I can’t—

  “Hey, Dani—sorry I’m late!” Jess said, interrupting my panic spiral. “I got held up speaking to my last period teacher about a project.”

  “Oh. That’s okay,” I lied. “I just appreciate you letting me use your phone.” At least the last part was heartfelt and true.

  “So, why don’t we head out by the back of the art department? It’s nice and quiet out there. I told Jon to wait out front to keep an eye out for my mom.”

  “Whatever you think is best.”

  We started heading toward the art department.

  “Are you nervous? Or just excited?”

  “Do you want me to be honest?”

  “No, I want you to lie,” Jess said. “Duh! Of course I want you to be honest!”

  “I’ve been feeling sick with nerves all day. And excitement. Sort of a mixture.”

  “When was the last time you actually spoke to him? What’s his name again?”

  “Roberto.”

  “So, how long has it been since you two actually spoke to each other?”

  “It’s been almost eleven months. Since he left Argentina last December.”

  “Wow. That’s
a really long time. No wonder you’re nervous.”

  No wonder.

  Jess pushed open the door to the outside.

  “Here’s the phone. I’ll go sit on the grass over there to give you some privacy. You can just wave when you’re done.”

  I took the phone into my hand. It was still warm from being in Jess’s.

  “Thanks, Jessica.”

  “Hey, it’s no biggie. Good luck!” she said with a smile, and headed off to the grassy area a little way off.

  My fingers were trembling so much it was difficult to press the small buttons on Jess’s phone. My heart was thumping in my chest, so hard I wondered if hearts ever broke through rib cages. Roberto’s phone started to ring. What if he’s not there? What if I’ve waited all day and I get his voice mail?

  “Hello?”

  It was a girl’s voice.

  “Hello…I…I think I might have dialed the wrong number.” I read her the number Roberto had given me, just to check.

  “No, you’ve got the right number. Are you looking for Robbie?”

  Robbie? Who is Robbie? And what have you done with Roberto?

  “I’m looking for Roberto Saban,” I said. A lump was rising in my throat that felt like it would cut off my breathing. “He told me this was his cell number.”

  “Sure, Robbie Saban. This is his cell. He’s in the pool right now. I’ll call him for you…”

  “Wait!”

  I was afraid to ask the question, but I had to do it.

  “Who…who are you?”

  “I’m Amber, his girlfriend. Hold on, I’ll get him for you.”

  I heard her calling “Robbie, phone for you,” but it seemed like it was coming from underwater. I’m Amber, his girlfriend. Roberto has a girlfriend. Another girlfriend. I thought I was his girlfriend. I didn’t know if I should hang up or if I should hold on and talk to him. I looked up and Jess waved to me from where she was seated over on the grass. She didn’t realize that four words—I’m Amber, his girlfriend— had just shattered my entire life.