by Sera Taíno
Val crossed her arms, enjoying this nerdy side of him. It reminded her of the way he geeked out over Star Wars. “I’m impressed. You know your building well.”
Philip’s face fell. “That’s the history you can find on Wikipedia. It’s one part of its history, but it isn’t the only one, is it? It doesn’t tell me anything about the personality of East Ward. Plus—” he bopped her shoulder with his in a companionable way “—knowing you, it’s going to be a lot more interesting than knowing the history of the pencil company empire.”
“Well,” she said, “I am actually way more interesting. But I figured you’d like to see, I don’t know, the shops or some distinctive architecture.”
“Yes,” he said, taking in the walk-ups, storefronts and lots that comprised Val’s street. “Architecture is kind of my jam, but I’d enjoy seeing things from your perspective. It is, after all, such a lovely perspective.”
“And he’s flattering me again,” she mumbled loud enough for him to hear her. This neighborhood, this street in particular, had been the stage on which her life had unfolded. There was so much, she didn’t know where to start, so she let the geography decide. She pointed at a nondescript building across the street, one not very different from her own.
“My first crush. He used to live there. A Polish boy named Tomasz. We sneaked into his backyard and made out. I didn’t realize he’d left a hickey on my neck until my mother saw it when I got home.” Val shivered at the memory. “I was grounded for the entire summer. Can you imagine that?”
Philip glared at the building. “He could have asked you permission, instead of condemning you to a summer indoors.”
Val considered this reaction and decided she liked him being all indignant on her behalf. “Funny enough,” she continued, “that’s when I became obsessed with cooking. Cartoons were boring, telenovelas were on repeat because they always went on break over the summer and the only air-conditioning was in the restaurant. It was either work with my parents or go out of my mind with boredom.” She glared at him. Was that something he could identify with? “And don’t even tell me how you spent your summers because I’ll probably barf.”
He threw up his hands as if her words had become projectiles that he needed to dodge. “It’s probably best if I don’t.”
“Good. Anyway, I already knew how to cook a few things, but my mom pulled out my grandmother’s recipes and she started teaching me everything she knew. I can thank Tomasz for that.”
“Good to know he was of some use.” Philip was nearly growling and damn, Val didn’t realize a man growling could actually be a thing that existed outside of a romance novel. But here was Philip, looking like he might pummel Tomasz if he suddenly appeared. It sent tension twisting through her body, the good kind that made every nerve ending tingle. The kind she was trying her best to ignore.
It didn’t help that Philip’s long legs were snuggled tight in a pair of worn jeans that looked soft to the touch. Val squared her shoulders against the temptation to ogle him, from his plaid button up with a clean T-shirt underneath, to his kicks. Even in clothes he might have thrown on as an afterthought, Philip looked good enough to eat.
She really needed to stop imagining what he would taste like. It wasn’t helping her concentration one bit.
She gave a quick shake of her head before pointing to a small, fenced-in playground with a decrepit basketball court, the hoops missing the rope for the baskets. “Here is a little park where I used to hang out after school. This bully named Allison used to harass Nati and me.”
His mouth—that perfectly shaped mouth, made for kissing—curled into a half smile. “Let me guess. You beat the girl up.”
“God, no,” Val laughed. “That girl kicked my ass all over the park. I was in third grade and she was this tall fifth grader with freakishly long arms and legs. I went home with a cut lip. But I hit her first, so I’ll always have that.”
“Wait, so you swung at her even though she was twice your size?”
“She was messing with Nati. I’m the only one who can bully my sister.”
Philip laughed. “You don’t even have the sense not to start a fight with someone bigger than you.”
“As you can see,” she said, sweeping her hand in his direction. “I don’t have much use for good sense.”
“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”
“That’s not true. I’m afraid of a lot of things.” Of being hurt. Of being betrayed. “But that’s not going to stop me from taking on something, even if I have a good chance of losing.”
“After what I’ve learned about you, those might be the truest words you’ve ever said about yourself.”
Val turned away, her blush lighting up her face like the blinking neon sign over the piraguas cart toward which they were moving. “Now you’re really trying to flatter me.”
“I don’t need to flatter you about something that is so obvious to anyone paying attention.”
Dammit, and now she wanted to kiss him. She hurried down the block, eager to put space between her and the temptation he represented.
They crossed the park to Domingo’s Bodega, where Doña Livia had set up her piraguas cart for as long as Val could remember. She’d upgraded it over the years until she ran a high-tech, mini ice wagon with a giant, red-and-white umbrella decorated with balloons and streamers, where she scraped ice and mixed rainbow-colored syrup like a wizened magic woman. She even had her own Instagram page, where she posted her more adventurous flavors.
Val hoped the icy sweetness would cool the ever-growing urge to curl around Philip like a stray cat.
The buildings on this side of the park were more elegant. They weren’t currently part of the opportunity zone Philip’s company was interested in developing. The brownstones had carefully tended flower boxes that actually held flowers, now that the weather was reasonable. Ivy snaked up the side of buildings with worn but not pockmarked brick. It was one of Val’s favorite places, and she was grateful Philip’s company had no plans for now.
Not Philip’s company. Wagner Developments. She was trying her best to decouple the man and the business in her mind.
“Valeria.” Doña Livia came around from behind her cart and they exchanged a kiss on the cheek, the woman’s gray-streaked black hair tickling Val’s skin. Despite the warm weather, her hands and cheeks were chilly from working with ice all day long.
Doña Livia offered her hand to Philip, making the weakest effort to be discreet as she studied him from crown to foot. Val exchanged a look with him over the older woman’s head, biting back a smirk at how nosy she was.
When Doña Livia was satisfied with her scrutiny, she turned her attention to Val. “I saw your father, taking his usual walk. Lo veo bien, sabes.”
Everyone who knew her father before his wife’s death always made a point of commenting on how good he looked, even though it had been more than a decade since she’d passed. As if by asking, they could keep him from being anything but in good health.
“He’s good, thank God.”
“Me allegro. So, what would you like?”
Every flavor of piragua came to mind before she could shape the names in Spanish—or English. She loved guanabana and parcha, but also strawberry and coconut, and sometimes multiple syrups combined. But tonight, Philip was here and it felt celebratory, despite her best efforts to restrain her excitement. It called for something decadent.
“Crema, por favor.”
Doña Livia got to work scraping and shaping the cone, the sound of metal against ice a soothing and familiar one from the days when Val was a child, jumping up and down with a quarter in hand, impatient for her own cone. After Doña Livia handed Val her piragua, she asked Philip for his preference.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
Doña Livia nodded in approval, as if she could determine the quality of Philip’s cha
racter from his choice in piragua flavors. She handed him his cone and watched as he took a small bite of ice, hissing at the cold. His lips puckered, which put Val in the mind of licking warmth back into them.
“This is good. I usually associate piraguas with fruit syrup,” he said.
Doña Livia puffed herself out with pride. “Si, but these are piragua de crema—more ice cream than ice.”
Val thanked Doña Livia. When Val paid—and she insisted on paying because that dinner at the French restaurant would bug her forever—they walked along the street to an ivy-covered building with an engraved brass plaque fixed next to the door.
“This building belonged to the son of a Puerto Rican poet, who was forced to leave the island in the seventies because he belonged to the Independence movement. His daughter still runs a book club for the older ladies in the neighborhood.”
“A neighborhood book club? Does she use the library or does she hold the meetings here?” Philip asked, reading the inscription on the building out loud—Rubén Mounier, 1944–2018.
“No, she does it here, in her father’s old salon. I’ve been meaning to come but I never have the time. The young women read modern books. But the señoras, they want their old-school romances and you won’t pry those out of their wrinkled little hands.”
“Val,” Philip interjected, “was there some kind of artist community here in the past?”
Pride in East Ward bubbled up in her. “Yes. Besides everything else...” She let the emphasis linger on that the word else, which did not escape his notice by the small nod he gave. “It’s a sister city to a small town outside Ponce.”
“Ponce, isn’t that where the Museo de Arte is located?”
“It is,” Val said, impressed by his knowledge. “Have you been there?”
“I visited once. We had a commercial project outside San Juan. I took a few days of vacation to explore the island.”
“Alone?” Val felt her eyes grow so wide, her face ached. She had no business asking him that, not if this was intended to be just an informational walk.
Philip’s smirk was knowing enough to trigger a burning sensation in her chest. She turned away before he caught her embarrassment. “You know what? I don’t really want to know.”
His long stride brought him to her side again. “It’s nothing sordid. I went with a friend who happened to work for the company competing against us for the project.”
“Touring with the enemy. Seems to be a theme with you,” she retorted. His laugh was crystalline and it lit up...everything. She was so annoyed with herself for being so damned taken by him. They weren’t friends. “We have one last stop.”
She lapsed into silence as they walked, finishing the last of their piraguas. When they were done, they tossed their soggy paper cones in a trash can.
Philip reached a hand out to stop her. “Are you okay?”
That pulled her up short. “Why wouldn’t I be? This way.” She led him up the block, wrestling with her reaction to him. She had absolutely no reason to feel anything at all about his personal life or decisions. So it was a colleague and not something more romantic. That was not her business either way. It wasn’t like she owned the island. He was free to go wherever he wanted with whomever he wanted. The fact that it bothered the hell out of her was completely irrelevant to anything.
They arrived at a nondescript corner, cars drifting by on a cross street toward the busier boulevard up ahead. Old lovers and fantastic plans about the future were relegated to a dark corner of her mind, taken over by other, more momentous memories.
“And here...” She stopped, raising a hand to caress the traffic post, a mechanical beeping indicating that it was safe to cross. “Here is where my mother died.”
“Here?” Philip looked around. There was nothing to see. Years flowed between where she stood now and where she had been back then. Time was like a giant street sweeper, collecting the wreckage of broken lives and erasing them, except in the memory of the people who lived them. Val’s memory. And Val never forgot anything.
Val clutched the rosary that always hung around her neck. “I was walking right next to her. She stepped off the curb to cross, and a motorcycle going too fast clipped her. She fell and hit her head.” She stared at the asphalt, the scene unfolding before her eyes. “She got up, spoke to me and Doña Livia, who helped me take her back to the restaurant. We got her to the hospital but maybe we were too slow, or maybe she wasn’t as strong as I thought she was, I don’t know. She lost consciousness and never woke up again.”
Philip grew pale in the waning light. He rubbed his face, scraping at the five o’clock shadow that was emerging along his jaw.
“How do you do it?” he whispered. “How can you walk by this place every day and not break?”
She didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t pull it off as well as she thought she did.
“I could never...” Philip said, but the words died on his lips.
“I know it’s not an anecdote you can bring back to your company or investors or whoever. This stop was only for you, to help you understand me a little.” She had to crane to look up at him and realized that throughout their entire walk, she had forgotten how very tall he was, or maybe she couldn’t help but feel very small, especially in this spot, sharing this memory. She tore her gaze away, focusing on the ground instead.
“The place is a little grungy.” She kicked at a soft drink cup that hadn’t quite made it into the trash. “Could definitely use a cleanup. But there is a community here worth preserving. This isn’t some plastic toy you buy at the store, use until it gets old and throw away for a new one.”
Philip at least had the decency to look miserable. “I offered you my cooperation.”
“But you have to mean it, not just for publicity or to save face. These things have a domino effect. First, it was the waterfront, then the Victoria. Soon it will be the building with Navarro’s inside. And that I can’t allow.” She remembered Felicia’s admonishment to not talk to him about her intentions to buy the building. There was no reason to give him that advantage. “My family put too much into that restaurant. I’m all for improving the neighborhood but not the way you’re going about it.”
Philip reached out, curling a lock of her hair around his finger. The action knocked her off her center. He hadn’t touched her since their failed date, and she’d spent far too many nights trying not to remember how it felt to have his hands on her. This walk would already set her back, sending her into an endless obsession over every word they’d exchanged, every gesture he made. There weren’t enough surfaces left in her building to clean for her to purge her feelings.
“If it’s not us, it’ll be someone else. You understand that, don’t you? There’s just not enough private capital here to do what companies like ours do on a large scale.”
“I know things change, but do we always have to be the ones left behind?”
He made to speak but dropped his hand instead. She was grateful, because having him this close, with night just a half sunset away and crickets already chirping, made her wish she could stop thinking altogether and finish what they’d started on the walkway. She had to focus on what mattered. He had no answer to her question. No one did, unless they were planning to remake the world anew, and that was not in either of their power.
They resumed their walk, completing a circuit that brought them back to her building. Philip stopped in front of the Victoria. Val always passed this building, but it was as if she was seeing it for the first time. Metal scaffolds hung off the front and side of the building like metal insects, clinging to the chipped brick facade. It looked old and tired, like many of the buildings on this street.
And Val’s building next door, like a domino, waiting to fall.
She wouldn’t let it. Everything had been set in motion, pending approval of their mortgage, which they’d hear back about soon. She w
asn’t going to let them take everything away from her. Philip scanned the building, making his own evaluations. He didn’t need to know her plans. She couldn’t risk having anyone derail them.
They returned to Navarro’s. The windows were dark, but the apartments above were illuminated. Her family was up there. The Gutierrezes. The other tenants who comprised the ad hoc group of people who called this place home. Their intimate space. Borrowed space, if things didn’t go well.
“I should probably get going,” Philip said, but with the urgency of someone who had nowhere to go. His hands buried deep in his pocket made him look younger, far less confident than the persona he normally projected. Val was tempted to invite him up for coffee. But they’d done what they set out to do, and she’d insisted that this not be a social visit. If she didn’t show some fortitude, he might think she’d give in easily to other, more serious things. She couldn’t afford that kind of vulnerability.
It was hard being a responsible, functioning adult, complete with boundaries and limitations. Especially when the more impulsive side of her wanted to throw off that pesky maturity and do the exact opposite of enforcing boundaries.
“Good night,” she said, stumbling over her words. “And thank you.”
Despite his height, he still managed to look at her from under his lashes, longer and more golden than anyone had any business possessing. He nodded, and pulled the car key fob from his pocket, slowly, as if waiting for her to change my mind.
“It’s always a good night, with you.” He turned to get into his car but Val lunged forward, stopping just short of the passenger door. It had been impulsive and foolish and now she scrambled to come up with something to say.
“You’ll reach out to us about that meeting, right?”
Philip gave her a wry smile and Val hated, absolutely hated, how transparent she was. “As soon as I get my team together.”