Malentendido (Misunderstood)

by Mara White

  I lean down to pick it up and I hold it in my hand. I can’t tell her how I feel. What if she’s over it? I gave her her first kiss—maybe I was a just a person she could trust, someone to practice on.

  But Christ, that kiss in front of the fridge was like no other kiss. I think about it every time I see her, every time I look at her lips. I’ve kissed a whole hell of a lot of chicks and never felt anything like it. A shot of heroin straight to my heart and a bolt of lightning to my dick.

  Maybe she’s moved on to other guys? Even the thought makes me want to punch something, or better yet, someone. I’d pound his fucking face in, whoever thinks he can touch Belén and dirty up her innocence. My anger and frustration are always two steps ahead of me.

  “What were you going to say, Lucky?”

  I shove the note in my back pocket and start walking down the stairs.

  “Naw, Bey. I’m not gonna tell you. I don’t want you to get a big head.”

  “Like you? Luciano, you are impossible,” she huffs, and I can hear her feet march up the stairs. I chuckle at her attitude, but at the same time my eyes are watering and I wipe them with the back of my hand. I’m such a fucking pussy. I got to get myself under control.

  I unfold the note and read it, her doodling in pink pen.

  “Lucky is thirteen percent of me and I am thirteen percent of him.”

  Thirteen is an unlucky number, I think as I crumple the piece of paper and toss it out an open window in the stairwell.

  Después

  It’s so quiet on the eleventh floor of the hospital. Sometimes I get a little spooked, especially when I get a storage cart with squeaky wheels like the one I’m pushing now. The hallway gets too long and I start to conjure visions of The Shining. A lot of the rooms are empty up here and a large portion are used solely for storage. Sometimes there’s an attendant who sits at a desk in front of the old lab that now houses equipment, but only if we’ve got a large number of infectious diseases in residence or some other dangerous pathogen that’s a necessary ingredient for whatever trials we’re conducting.

  The desk is empty today; either security is out to lunch or off guarding something that takes precedence over my twenty-five-hundred empty blood vials. Hopefully we’ve got ample stock because I learned my lesson after borrowing from phlebotomy once and getting chewed out in front of everyone.

  The entrance is key card access and mine went missing last week. Luke probably threw it in the garbage can or took it to school with him. I have a temporary ID card, but I get the no-admittance buzz and error message every time I stick it in the lock, so I jam it in there harder and harder and it refuses to register at all.

  “Piece of shit!” I exclaim. The guys at the office of human resources promised me that it would work. They probably changed codes for some stupid breach in security and now my whole afternoon will be shot trying to get a new one that works. I walk over to the red phone on the wall and dial security.

  “I’m on the eleventh floor by the South Wing Lab and my access card isn’t working.”

  “You’ll need an updated badge, ma’am,” says the answering desk.

  “I’m waiting for my permanent one to come in the mail. Can someone just please let me in? All I need are vials—no restricted access stuff. You can even watch me do it.” I cross my fingers in my lab coat pocket. Sometimes the bureaucracy in this place makes me not want to work here at all. Maybe a lab that wasn’t part of a functioning hospital would actually get some work done instead of wasting so much time on rules and procedure.

  “Ma’am, enter your ten-digit restricted access code into the keypad on the door. If it gives you a green light I’ll buzz you in remotely, but only this one time.”

  “Oh, thank you so much! You just made my day,” I say excitedly and glance over my shoulder. I hate being up here alone. I always get the irrational fear that I’ll get locked in overnight. Have to sleep on the cold floor surrounded by incurable diseases.

  I enter the code and the light blinks green.

  “I punched in my code,” I say.

  “Okay, clearance granted,” she says and the door buzzes loudly.

  I yell, “Thank you!” and smash the phone back on the cradle, push open the door just as I hear it click, kick off my left clog and jam the shoe in the door to keep it from closing behind me.

  Antes

  Yari knocks on the front door and walks into the apartment at the same time. Sometimes I feel like she’d still come in, pop open a can of soda and plop down on the couch even if I weren’t home. She doesn’t come to this building for my company, that I know for sure.

  Her face is flushed and her hair is messed up. One side of her tank top is pulled down a little too low so you can see her bra. I guess he stretched it out. Maybe he’s rough? I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands all over me, searching my body for his satisfaction. To have him on top of me, inside of me, desperate for me to relieve him. I want it so badly it hurts, so much that it turns my stomach. I hate who I am, and what this thing turns me into.

  Yari runs her fingers through her tangled strands while I stare at her.

  “Bitch, what? I got something on me?”

  I glance down and blush. I always fantasize about what it’s like between the two of them. I imagine it so hard that I get out of breath with the visions my mind can come up with.

  “He never wants to cuddle. He won’t even fucking kiss me after he comes,” Yari yells from the kitchen. She’s looking at the leftovers, then she rummages through the cupboards. I hear her open a soda and crinkle a bag of chips. Yari has no shame about yelling that stuff out loud for my mother to hear. She’s not home, but Yari doesn’t know that and she doesn’t care; she’s said even worse when Mami was here.

  I don’t know if she’s telling me because she wants sympathy or if she’s doing it to get a rise out of me. Yari has everything I want and she doesn’t even appreciate it.

  She comes back into the dining room crunching chips, and some pieces spill on her chest. She looks down to wipe the crumbs off, says, “Oops,” and tugs her shirt to cover her breast.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like kissing? Or maybe he feels guilty afterwards so he doesn’t want to hang out?” I suggest, still staring at her flushed complexion, how the strands of hair by her temple look like they’re wet from sweat. Why do I have to comfort my best friend as she complains about having sex with the only boy I’ve ever loved?

  Yari dips in the bag for more chips and shrugs.

  “What’s he doing now?”

  “Getting high. What else?” She sticks her tongue out at me and dusts her chest off again. “Is that the lab for biology? Dude, can I copy it? Here, let me get a piece of paper.” She pulls out a chair and starts scribbling down my answers on the paper I hand her.

  “He’s gonna know you copied it, Yar. Mustache isn’t dumb.”

  She keeps scribbling and doesn’t answer me.

  “You’re supposed to show your work.”

  “Yeah, but he won’t be able to prove it and besides, I gotta pass this fucking class!”

  Yari eats the whole bag of chips while she copies my answers. I cross my legs in my seat and squeeze my shaky legs together. I don’t know if I’m turned on by Yari or from imagining her with Lucky. I’m a bigger pervert than the both of them even though I’m still a virgin. I bear down on the chair and almost moan out loud. I’m pretending to do my assignment, but Yari keeps catching me staring at her every time she looks up. The fact that he just touched her is arousing like nothing else. The sensations swimming inside me are all rising to the top. I can’t stop looking at Yari’s breasts and her swollen lips and thinking about Lucky touching them.

  “What, bitch? You’re making me nervous!” Yari screeches when she looks up again.

  “I don’t know, I’m sorry! I just think it’s weird that you go fuck him and then come here right afterwards. You look like sex. You even smell like sex, and Yari, he’s my cousin. It’s like, have some respect
for me and my family. Or have some respect for yourself.”

  Yari’s eyes bug out wide and she breaks into a smile. Her teeth are bright white and her lips, a natural deep red. She reaches out and grabs my crotch right through my jeans and I can feel the heat from her fingers burn through the cloth.

  “Oh my God!”

  “What?”

  “You like it, Belén. Holy shit, you fucking perv! You like it and you want a piece but you’re too goody-goody to admit it.”

  I jump back from her touch and screech my chair across the floor.

  “Leave me alone! You’re the fucking perv!”

  “Oh, like I don’t see the way you look at me! You want to fuck me too, Bey? Come get some, I’ll share!” Yari caresses herself between the legs and thrusts her hips in my direction.

  I run for my room and force myself to ignore the fire her hand ignited when she touched me in the same place.

  “Jesus Christ, Bey. Fine! Run away! Pretend to be a prude and a good girl for whoever will buy it. At least I’m not horny for my own cousin. You’re a closeted freak and so scared because nobody likes you like that anyway,” Yari yells and the front door bangs open.

  Great! My mom. Now I’ll get grounded in addition to the humiliation. Thanks Yari.

  “Nobody likes who like what?” Lucky asks and I die inside when I hear his voice.

  Oh God, Lucky, what timing!

  I’m heated and breathing hard and all I can think about is touching myself. My nipples are fully erect and where she grabbed me is a blazing hot center of yearning. I can’t hold it in anymore.

  “Hey, baby,” Yari says, all soft and girly; my insides turn liquid and threaten to unload on the floor of my bedroom. I slam the door. Fasten the latch that my mom and I argued over for weeks before she agreed to let me install it. I feel safe in this space. I can hide in my bed and my books. I can even drape a sheet over the mirror and forget who I am.

  “Bey?” Lucky calls and I hear the drugs when he speaks. Like he’s playing on a slow reel and his voice is reluctantly winding its way out of the depths of him.

  “Get out of my apartment! Both of you!” I holler.

  “What the fuck did you do to her, Yari?” Lucky drawls. I really do want the both of them to leave. I feel like I’m surrounded by bad energy and if they don’t leave things can’t end well. When Lucky is high he loses his instinct to take care of me. It’s like he forgets I’m alive and would walk right through me if I didn’t jump out of his way.

  “Stop, Yari. Fuck. Get your hands off of me. Enough!” Lucky slurs.

  She’s going for his dick. I can’t see it but I know exactly what’s happening, I know how she works.

  “Come on, baby. Come,” Yari says coyly like she’s talking to a puppy.

  “I’m too fucked up. Don’t. Where’d Bey go?”

  She’s guiding him down the hallway. There’s no way they’re coming in here.

  “She went to some school thing. It’s just me and you, baby. Alone in the apartment, that was the TV you heard.” Yari says all syrupy and it’s making me sick. She’s such a liar but I know Lucky doesn’t recognize the lies, he only listens to what he wants to believe. When Yari gives him her body, he falls under her spell.

  “Who were you talking to then?” Lucky asks. She giggles and silences him with her mouth. His voice fades into the kiss. I remember what our kiss felt like and heat dashes through my body in a firestorm. His belt buckle chimes and his zipper follows. She’s undoing his pants and going down on her knees right in front of my bedroom. Yari is shameless—sex to her isn’t sacred, it’s power, leverage, a tool to get people to do what she wants them to.

  I’ve never wanted my mom to come home early from work so badly before. I hope she barges in on both of them and hits them on the head with a frying pan like she did once to Hector.

  “Let me get you hard,” she says and I can hear her take him in her mouth. She hums and coos to make sure I hear every bit of it. I’m right up against them, separated by three inches and a closed door, but my body and mind are frozen in equal parts lust and repulsion.

  “Uh, fuck,” Lucky moans in pleasure. Maybe from both her mouth and his high. She’s sucking on him, the most intimate part of the boy I love is inside Yari’s hot mouth. I hear his head hit the wall as he relaxes it back and I bend my knees and slide my back down the door. His pleasure feels like my own; his noises of satisfaction do something crazy to my hormones. As if in a trance, I maneuver myself around and get up on my knees in front of the keyhole.

  I dare myself to look. For some reason I need to see it.

  And see it, I do. Only for a split second before I snap my eyes shut. Lucky’s erect penis sliding leisurely in and out of Yari’s mouth. His hand on the back of her head, guiding, pushing, using her mouth to get off.

  My blood rushes, my heart pounds and I want to kick and scream, but I’m suddenly so wet between my legs that I need to satiate it before I combust. I want it to be my neck he cradles; I want his hands to demand their greedy pleasure from me. My mouth, my hands, the most hidden and secret parts of me.

  I sit on the edge of my bed and tug off my jeans. I hate Yari for knowing me so well, hate that she can read me like this. I hate that Lucky is an idiot when he’s high and can’t see past his stupor. I hate caving to Yari’s manipulation and that I can hear her sucking his dick. I can hear her sucking his dick, and I like it. I fucking like it. It’s affecting me so strongly, I’m tempted to open the door. Instead I creep near it and listen.

  “Oh, God. Oh fuck,” Lucky says, and both his words and my hands find their way to my center. His words caress my ear, they tickle down my throat. Even if they’re not for me, I can pretend—imagine what it would be like.

  I’m wet and swollen and my heart is pounding, the rush of blood in my ears is like the quiet roar of the ocean in a shell. I want to make Lucky feel that way, curse and grind against me, use, disrespect and devour my body. I want to be the one he loses control over.

  I can touch myself. They won’t know. Lucky probably won’t even remember coming down here after he sobers up.

  My eyes and my mouth open; as my fingers slide down my stomach to massage my clit. I imagine him coming into my house to find me doing my homework at the dining room table. He grabs me, he kisses me first softly and then like a beast. All of the violence and the anger turn into relief as he touches his lips to mine. His tongue meets mine and gorges into my eager mouth. He worships me like he did up against the fridge in Titi’s kitchen and I imagine it’s his hand instead of my own moving frantically over my wet center.

  I arch my back and hold my breath; my whole body freezes, drawn tight like a bow. Except for the movement of my hand and my heart pounding, I’m suspended in the moment. I want his kiss so badly it hurts. My chest aches with need, my heart tender from loving him. His scent moves easily around the cracks of my door and I’m as close to I’ll ever be to experiencing this boy. Blood rushes and sweeps in my ears, and my usually gentle heart pounds furiously with muscles which threaten to collapse under the stress; my arms burn as my heart and my head lose control.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Lucky rasps.

  I see it again in my mind’s eye, his engorged cock pumping in and out of her wet mouth. It pushes me over the edge. I spill out of the cup. My whole body contracts and releases; spasms rip through my tendons and muscles. I want to cling to Lucky, dig my nails and sink my teeth into flesh that makes me feel simultaneously so powerful and weak. I exhale hard to keep from crying out. My body quivers and shakes as I come down slowly from bliss. One tiny moan escapes, but Lucky groans in tandem, loud enough to cover my own. My orgasm soars again with the sound of his voice. I want to scream as I come for him behind my closed bedroom door.

  My hips buck up into my own hand and I feel the empty ache of wishing I had Lucky inside me. Heat courses through me and I push my fingers into my raw flesh trying to compensate, so I can drown in the consuming pleasure of secretly coming togeth
er.

  I crawl ragged and exhausted to my bed, pull back the covers and slide down in between the sheets without bothering to fix my clothes. I want to hide my body from everything, including myself. The door is locked; they can’t see me. My cousin doesn’t even know that I’m home. I close my eyes and pull the covers over my head. Their voices are blurry, but I distinctly hear Lucky’s belt buckle as he refastens his pants. They exchange some more words that don’t sound either affectionate or pleasant and Lucky’s heavier footsteps walk away. He doesn’t kiss her or tell her he’ll see her later or even give her a hug. I’m embarrassed and relieved when he leaves. I thought she was going to humiliate us both and tell Lucky I’d been listening and watching.

  “Bey, open up,” Yari says, knocking on the door.

  I feel like I’m dreaming. Like Lucky and I had some sort of sexual exchange; even though there was a wall and Yari between us, I still somehow feel like he touched me. My flesh burns in places that were ignited with his imaginary touch. I’ve got invisible love bites and nail scratches, bruises and blossoms, where Lucky’s ungraspable hands roughed me up.

  It’s all in my mind but feels so real I’m shaking.

  The smell sex is on my hands and drifting under the door from the hall. When my head falls back onto the pillow and I put my fingers over my heart.

  I’m holding our exchange dear to me, sacred and meaningful. I don’t want anyone to distract me. I ignore Yari—block her out. I only want to remember me and Lucky.

  “Come on, Bey!”

  “Go away!”

  “You’re welcome, Freak!” Yari says. “Don’t say I didn’t ever do nothing for you.”

  Anything, I silently roar.

  You never did anything for me.

  Después

  This floor of the hospital is abandoned and silent, creepy like a sunken ship where things are left out as if everyone up and ditched. Unlocking the first supply cabinet, I start to stack boxes on top of my cart. It will probably take two trips to get all the vials, so my clog is currently serving as a door prop. I’d rather not have to call security again. Maybe I’ll grab all the vials for tomorrow too, that way if my stupid access badge doesn’t arrive I won’t have to jump through any hoops. There’s a clipboard attached to the cabinet where you write down how many vials you’re taking and the name of the trial they’ll be used for. I don’t think anyone keeps track, but I always write mine down regardless. I’m meticulous by nature, but the breaking the rules part, I definitely learned from my cousin.