Love on the Ledge

by Zoraida Cordova

  Dozens and dozens of boxes of alcohol. Leti is the only one who will get off her ass and help me take inventory. We have a giant walk-in fridge where the white wine and champagne boxes go.

  Leti takes a bottle of the bubbly as payment for her services, and I take one to the newly converted office and former pool house. Half-naked mannequin bust-forms make me feel like I’m walking through a fairytale where all the women have gone bald and are frozen, but still wear their best dresses.

  Two of Pepe’s apprentices, girls fresh from FIT who desperately want to work in fashion, greet me with high-pitched squeals. I fork over the champagne and they pop it open. I wonder what it’s like to work for Pepe. I had the opportunity to be one of these employees, but even though I love clothes, my heart was never in the world of designers. I can’t get past the fake kisses and runway shows, the models who try as hard as they can to starve themselves thin. Especially after I’ve treated so many bulimic and anorexic girls at my old hospital. The only thing I made Pepe promise me was to use models that didn’t look emaciated.

  “Okay, nena,” Pepe says, tugging on the measuring tape around his neck. His shirt is unbuttoned down the middle of his chest, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Somehow, it defies wrinkle-science. “Let’s try this again.”

  I put on the slip of the dress and he pinches the fabric, stabbing it with silver pins until it starts to take shape.

  “I heard you had a little too much fun at the beach last night,” he says.

  I deflate, letting my hands drop. I regret it when a pin digs into my skin.

  “Nothing terrible happened,” I tell him. “Wait, what did Maria say?”

  Pepe purses his lips and scratches his head. Even if he knows all the details, he’s not going to tell me. Pepe is an excellent secret keeper. He didn’t come out to the family until my senior year of high school, even though his clothing choices in the ’80s were sort of a dead giveaway.

  “Only that the roofer boy almost got you drowned, and you wouldn’t listen to that guy who wears too much gel and suede boat shoes in the summer.…”

  “Xandro,” I smirk.

  It’s not that Pepe judges people by their wardrobe choices…it’s that…actually, yeah, that’s what it is. But it definitely shows when he doesn’t like someone, and I’m thrilled that he doesn’t look at Xandro the way everyone else in the house does.

  “That’s not what happened,” I say. “I decided to go swimming and a wave almost pulled me out.” I can feel my skin warm at the memory of our kiss. “Hayden grabbed me just in time and pulled me back to shore. I don’t know who Xandro thinks he is, but he’s bossy as hell. He reminds me of—”

  I don’t say it. He reminds me of my dad. When he was around, the times he’d make it home instead of spending the night in a strange house, he’d boss us around. He told me when to go to bed. He made me change my clothes if he thought they were too provocative. Because nothing says provocative like jeans and t-shirts I’d outgrown, but had no replacements for. That’s why I took to wearing Pepe’s hand-me-downs. If my Dad didn’t like the food, he’d scrape his plate into the garbage and tell my mother he’d had better. If Pepe was watching TV, he’d berate him and call him lazy, even though he knew well that Pepe went to night school after his shifts at the restaurant.

  Sure, Xandro is tall, handsome, polished. But there’s something in the undercutting tone of his words, the demand, the need to bend other people to his will. That was my father. I used to stay away from Latin guys for this reason exactly. But Bradley had some of the same qualities. It has nothing to do being brown or white, it’s something that runs deep in their hearts.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Pepe says. “Xandro's not going nowhere. Not the way he’s got his eyes on you.”

  “If you don’t want him,” Emily, a petite, buxom girl, winks at me. “I’ll take him.”

  “Have at it,” I say, pulling the dress over my head. I switch back to my sundress and step out of the curtain.

  “You don’t want that,” Vera tells Emily. “Men who take too long to get dressed are hiding something.”

  “Yeah,” Pepe says, “their boyfriends.”

  “Pepe,” I say, “how are you so calm right now?”

  Pepe takes the stretch of fabric scrap and folds it neatly on the table. “Believe me, I’m not. I’m so nervous I could shit bricks.”

  “Please don’t,” Vera says, deadpan. “Ze carpet is white.”

  “Do you remember what I was like before I met Tony?”

  “You certainly wore fewer jewel tones,” I say.

  Emily snickers and champagne comes out of her nose. Vera makes a face and shoves a box of tissues towards her.

  “I was wound up. It was right after I had gotten the apprenticeship at Valerio Guzman.”

  “Ohmigod I love their purses,” Emily says. “Not as much as yours, Pepe.”

  “That’s my girl. Anyway, I was happy. I threw myself into my work. I fell into a routine of coming and going. But there was something missing. It was like a part of me was still sleeping, even though I was out, loud, and proud. When I saw him—I had no idea if he was gay or straight—suddenly I came awake. All of me. He’d dropped a bunch of files on the way out of the elevator, and I normally took the steps, but for some reason I decided not to that day. And he didn’t usually take his lunch break at that time, but he got held up.”

  “Was it love at first sight?” Emily asks.

  “Yes,” Pepe says, “and no. I knew that I needed to know more about that man. I needed him in my life. But I was too afraid that he wouldn’t feel the same way. There’s no such thing as gaydar. People like to think that it’s real, but when so many men and women spend their lives trying to hide a precious part of themselves, there’s no kind of radar that’ll detect it if it doesn’t want to be found.”

  “So what did you do?” Vera asks.

  “I went into the elevator, of course. He apologized and we went our separate ways. But then…” Pepe smiles a mile wide. “I made sure to be downstairs at the elevator every day. It wasn’t until we started dating that Tony told me he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d just go downstairs to see me, then after I got in the elevator, he’d go back to his office.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Emily says.

  It’s my favorite story. Pepe and Tony are the only couple I know that really fit together. If anyone can convince me that love is a real thing and marriage isn’t just an outdated tradition, it’s them.

  “Who made the first move?” Emily asks.

  Pepe laughs, and his cool-as-a-cucumber persona is back. “He did, of course.”

  “When did you know?” I ask him after a long silence. “That Tony was the one?”

  Pepe takes a needle from between his lips and stabs it in the pin cushion at his side.

  “I didn’t,” he says. “I was in the closet for so long, I didn’t think it was an option for me. It’s a different time now. But back then, I thought I’d suffocate from feeling like I was alone. When I met Tony, when we went on our first date, I still didn’t know. We were total opposites. He’s a scotch on the rocks and I’m a Kir Royal. He smoked cigars and kept a little mustache comb in his suit jacket pocket. I had shaved the side of my head and was going through my pinstripe phase.

  “Except there was the spark. The spark that goes beyond gender. It’s like stars in your eyes, a great big galaxy in your body that knows something is changing, something is going to be different. There’s a difference between love at first sight and enduring love. Sometimes one masquerades as the other. Enduring love, the kind that sneaks up on you. That’s the kind of love I want for you, Sky.”

  I feel my eyes prickle with sad tears. I blink over and over until they go away and I’m left with a great twisting ball of uncertainty in my gut.

  “Sky, I want you to do something for me. Think of it as a wedding present.”

  I choke laugh. “You mean, other than planning your wedding?”

 
“Bitch,” he says.

  “Okay, okay. What do you want?”

  “As your present to us, I want you to do something nice for yourself. You’ve always done the right thing to make your mom happy. You’re a good daughter, but you have to make choices just for you, not for everyone else. We aren’t the ones that have to live with your decisions. You do.”

  I nod.

  “Don’t just nod and then ignore me. I mean it. For the rest of the summer, fuck everyone. I know what it’s like to be at the shit end of their judgment, and look at them now, living in my house, eating my food, enjoying my life. The life they didn’t want me to have. I’m not asking for anything in exchange, I’m not. But imagine if that part of me had never woken up?”

  He shudders. I don’t want to think of that either.

  “Promise me, Sky.”

  “I promise.”

  I fall back into the comfort of the couch and he keeps sewing. When my phone buzzes, my heart jumps at Hayden’s name.

  Hayden: Still on for your surprise?

  Me: Sounds kind of fishy.

  Hayden: It’s a good thing you’re a mermaid.

  Me: Can I have a hint?

  Hayden: Are you afraid of heights?

  Me: Maybe. Are we falling out of airplanes?

  Hayden: No….

  Hayden: Tonight at midnight. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.

  Chapter 18

  When the clock hits midnight and Hayden hasn’t shown up, I start to wallow in my disappointment. My hair is combed back into a ponytail. I brush on bronzer with glitter that makes my cheekbones pop. I brush mascara that extends my lashes to dramatic flirty wings. My lips, well, I leave my lips bare.

  I lock my bedroom door and decline all invitations to go out from Xandro—his friends are having an A-list party and everyone in the house is invited. From River and Leti—they’re catching a movie on the beach. My mom and Las Viejas—they want to watch a soap opera and keep an eye on me.

  I wait, and wait, and wait. When I start to feel foolish, I let my hair down, not bothering to brush out the crease from the hairband. I forget about my lashes, and start to rub my eye.

  I decide to check my phone and my heart jumps when I see three missed calls from Hayden, all time-stamped at 11:59, 12:00, and 12:01.

  It’s 12:15 am. I press down on the side and realize somehow I put it on silent.

  When I call him back, he answers on the first ring.

  “There you are,” he says. Even through the phone, I can tell he’s smiling.

  “Sorry, technical difficulties. My phone is a jackass.”

  “My phone is a dinosaur, so I’ve got that going for me.”

  “Did you…er…leave?”

  He chuckles. “Look out your window.”

  I open the door to the balcony and step into the cool summer night. The lights around the pool glow blue. Insects add their chorus to the distant sound of nighttime partners.

  And then there’s Hayden, standing below my balcony. He’s got a tote bag in hand. It’s too dark to see the things poking out from it.

  “I’ll be right down,” I say.

  “No, wait.” He steps forward and grabs onto a ladder that’s been propped against the side of the house. It ends on the roof.

  Are you afraid of heights, he had asked me.

  Right now? Yes, I most certainly am.

  “I’ll hold it, you climb. The roof is flat, but don’t stand. Just sit.”

  At my hesitation, He stands on the first step of the ladder and looks up. “I’ve got you, Sky. I promise.”

  Even if I did believe him, it’s hard for me to relinquish that control. I switch out of my sandals, and into Keds that feel a little more secure. The last time I climbed up a ladder, I was trying to change a lightbulb in my apartment. The only downside to high ceilings. It’s not so much that I’m afraid of heights as I am afraid of falling. The feel of having so much space between me and solid ground makes my stomach flip, and a sense of vertigo overcomes me. After the first light bulb change, I decided to get a bunch of lamps.

  I grab the side of the balcony and step onto the ladder one foot at a time. When it rattles, I squeal. A light flicks on in the house. I shhh in Hayden’s direction.

  When the light goes off, I go up one step at a time.

  “I’m right behind you,” Hayden says.

  When I turn around, there he is. I keep going until I get to the roof. I’m so floored, I almost let go and fall back.

  “Easy, now,” Hayden says.

  There’s a huge blanket laid out. A portable camping lamp rests in the corner and illuminates our little midnight picnic patch. There’s bread, cheeses, and a bottle of wine.

  I half crawl, half crouch my way to a sitting position. Hayden chuckles behind me. He stands up, very much the king of Haydenland, because right now we are in Haydenland.

  “What’s in the bag?” I ask.

  He takes a seat beside me. Much like when I was floating with him on the beach, he feels like an anchor.

  “I forgot cups.” He hands me one of the clear plastic ones. “When you weren’t picking up, I thought you either changed your mind or fell asleep, I figured I wouldn’t need them. But on the chance that you would come through, I decided to go ahead with this plan.”

  He twists the top off the wine and pours some for me first.

  “I don’t know how I put my phone on silent. I was feeling very stood up, while I was the one who was late.”

  He clinks his cup against mine. “Well, you’re here now.”

  I drink the sweet red, let it coat my tongue before swallowing. “This is delicious.”

  “It’s from the Goose Walk Vineyards over here. I’m not much of a wine guy, but I did a job for them last summer. They gave me a case of this stuff to take home with me.”

  “You have a lot of cool friends,” I tell him.

  “I’m an only child, but I didn’t want to be. Making friends came naturally to me because I didn’t want to play by myself. Right now, my friends are the only people in my life that I feel like I can really count on.”

  “More than family?”

  He takes a roll and breaks it in half, giving me the bigger half. “Yeah. When I was a kid I did everything to stay away from home because of the way my folks fought. They split last year. Wish they hadn’t waited so long. Growing up, the people that were there for me weren’t related by blood. Sometimes it’s the family you choose that makes you feel like you belong.”

  “I kind of get that.” I take a triangle of cheese. I have no idea what it is or what animal it came from, but it’s salty and melts in my mouth. “In families, people have certain roles to play. The mother, the father, the aunts and uncles and cousins. But for me, my mother was both parents. My uncle, Pepe, he’s ten years older than me. But when my dad left, even before that, he took care of me more than my dad ever did.”

  “That’s why you’re the maid of honor.”

  I laugh softly. “And because I’m the first one he came out to.”

  I’ve never told anyone that, not even Leti. Everyone just assumed that Pepe came out to us all on the same night, at the same dinner. He brought Tony over and said, “This is my boyfriend.”

  No one batted an eye; they just welcomed Tony and made him eat three helpings of food. When I look at Hayden, I want to tell him everything that I’m thinking. I want to tell him that his blue eyes remind me of stars. That his hair is the softest hair I’ve ever touched, and I’m equally as jealous as I am in awe of it. I want to tell him that I like his shirt, even if it’s just about the first time since we met that he hasn’t been topless.

  I want to tell him that it’s not the wine, it’s something else that makes me lie back and feel at total ease with someone I’ve only known for a handful of days.

  But I don’t say any of those things.

  For a little while, we’re quiet. It’s a similar silence from our phone call. Except now, my body is alive with his nearness.

  I
can smell his detergent and soap, and beneath that the scent I’ve come to identify as him. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t know what this feeling means. It means that I like Hayden, despite any reason I can give myself, with him this near, I can’t stop.

  “Where’d you go, Sky?” he asks me, refilling his cup. He starts to reach for my face, to tuck my hair back but stops himself.

  “I was thinking that this isn’t what friends do.”

  “You don’t drink wine and cheese with your friends?” He’s coy, as if he doesn’t already know that this dance we’re doing is for one reason only—to figure out where we go from here.

  “Yes, but—”

  “But?” He eases back onto the blanket with a hand behind his head. “Sky, there’s a huge but in our way.”

  “It’s a necessary but.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “Alright, you explain your but, and I’ll explain mine.” He smiles, and that smile is so fucking gorgeous, I want to pounce on his face and make it mine.

  He’s letting me drive this car, and that is terrifying and freeing in new ways.

  “But,” I’ve lost all the reasons. “Friends shouldn’t be attracted to each other.”

  “Friends shouldn’t have moonlit picnics on rooftops.”

  “Friends shouldn’t look at each other the way you look at me.”

  “In my defense, I have to look at you that way. It’s the way people are supposed to look at beautiful women.”

  Beautiful. It seems cheesy, but it warms my insides. It’s the most obvious thing to say, but some guys never say it. Bradley never called me beautiful. Hot. Sexy. Smoking. On the days he felt that dating a brown girl gave him swagger he called me “fine.” I reach for a memory in which my boyfriend of so many years called me beautiful, and I can’t find it.

  Suddenly, the roof feels too high, my feet too close to dangling off the ledge. I jump up and my cup slips from my hand. The plastic clatters all the way down and lands with a crack.

  Hayden puts a secure hand around my waist and holds on tight.