by Mara White
“They thought you were my brother and when I said we were cousins they asked me if I’d ever kissed you,” I speed out, then hold my breath for his answer.
Luciano puts his chin on the top of my head and grinds it in softly.
“Stupid girls,” he says, taking my hand and swinging it between us. I’m red in the face from admitting what they said; embarrassed both to have been questioned about kissing him and to have never been kissed. The sun is beating down on us as it takes its final bow over the Hudson. There’s an exodus of picnickers on their way back from the park. Bachata and merengue blast onto the street, from indoor stereos as well as parked cars with all the windows and doors open. Luciano says “Hi” or “Buenas” to the people our family knows. I smile and nod and feel grown up from the conversation we just had.
Chapter 4
We’re not in the same school because Luciano is a year older and we live in different neighborhoods. I’m still in my Catholic school and he goes to a public one. I see him on the weekends and he acts different. His voice has grown deeper and he now has some whiskers. He and Titi are always fighting and it seems like there’s a lot of tension.
He kisses Mami and me hello while he’s in the middle of crunching a bowl of cold cereal.
“Be good to your mami,” my mama says as she kisses and then pats his cheek.
“Tell her to lose the asshole who doesn’t pay any rent and who’s here all the time. I hate this fucking apartment!”
“Luciano!” Mami says, surprised at his manners.
“Ask her why she loves him so much if he’s always makin’ her cry!” Luciano yells loud enough for Titi to hear in the back bedroom. “I’m going to the park,” he says as he slurps the milk from the bowl and then tosses it in the sink. “Wanna come, Bey?” he asks, and I shake my head. “What? Come on, you siding with them? We all know he’s a fucking snake. Why we gotta pretend?”
“I’ll stay here. Maybe I’ll come out later.”
“Is Yari around? Think she’d come over here? Why don’t you call her?”
I know my mouth kind of hangs open when he asks so I slam it shut again. Yaritza is my best friend and I love her, but she’s gotten so out of control lately that Mami won’t let me hang out with her. She’s sleeping around and she’s just thirteen like me. Mami says it’s because her daddy was never around, but neither was mine and I’m never letting any boys touch me.
“I could call her for you. Where are you gonna be?”
“I knew I could count on you,” he says and he leans in to kiss my forehead. “I’ll be at Highbridge Park. Come out later if you want.”
Mami goes into Titi’s room and I plop myself down on the couch and turn on the TV. I grab Titi’s phone to call Yari and I cry when I do it. It hurts me so much to think of Luciano kissing her or touching her. Even just thinking of him wanting to do it makes a sob come out from hiding in my chest. I fold my body in and wrap my arms around my knees. I wish that I were sexy and brave like my friend. But I’m not. I’m shy even though I have good grades and a nice smile and “good hair” like Mami says. My big secret now isn’t that Luciano is my best friend. My secret is that most of the time I’m scared of the future and I feel really lonely.
Mami finally talks Titi into moving across town because there’s an opening in our building. She wants me and Luciano in the same school and she says that we’ll do better if we’re all closer as a family. Funny, though, no one invites Hemi and her kids to come live nearby. Titi and Mami are happy to see her at holidays or at parties away from the house. My cousin Raymond got suspended from school and now our moms don’t even want Luciano and I to ever hang around him.
Luciano goes by Luc now and he’s mad about the move. I help bring boxes in and he swears a lot and kicks the floorboard against the wall. The apartment needs paint, maybe some plastering too. He looks older now even though he still wears the same clothes: torn jeans sagging just enough so I can see the waistband of his boxers, white wife-beater, New York Yankee’s cap turned almost all the way backward.
“This place is a dump. Fucking rat hole,” he says.
“It’s not that bad,” I say as I put a box on his dresser. “You’ll be closer to school and closer to me,” I say, smiling. Then I look at the floor. I can’t believe I said that. I search my brain for a distraction. We’re not close like that anymore. We haven’t been in years.
“And closer to Yari,” I quickly add, trying to cover my embarrassment.
“Yari’s hot,” Luciano says and pulls his tank top over his head. He’s still got his rosary on, but his chest looks older—stronger.
I want to say that my mom says Yari’s sucia or that the boys call her easy. But she’s still my best friend, so I just nod in agreement.
“Come here,” Luciano says as he wipes the sweat from his body with the shirt he’s now balled up. He tosses it onto the bed like he’s dunking a basketball. I walk closer to him hesitantly and feel all my nerves jumping. He hugs me quick and hard and my nose picks up the familiar scent of his body.
“You’re the prettiest girl on this block and you know it,” he says, his smile suddenly so wide his dimple is showing.
“I thought you’d gotten rid of that,” I say sticking the tip of my finger in it. He bats my hand away.
“Oh, what? The block isn’t good enough for you? You want me to tell you that you’re the prettiest girl in West Harlem, in all of the Heights? The prettiest girl in school or in all of New York City?”
“Stop teasing me, Luciano,” I say, my smile quickly fading.
“My cousin Belén has the tightest body in America!” he shouts and I know I turn crimson. I sprint from his room and run into the kitchen. Mami is putting away Titi’s dishes and I grab some to help. I’m out of breath from our encounter and my heart is fluttering. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
“Mami?” I say putting my hand on my hip.
“What is it, mi hija?” she asks and sticks her head out of the cupboard to look at me.
“I’m glad they moved in. I think it’s gonna be good,” I say, grabbing a tea towel and rubbing smeared newspaper print off of a teacup.
It is good. In fact, it’s better than good. Both Mami and Titi laugh more and cook more and spend more time with each other than they do with their boyfriends. And I see more of Luciano. I see him every day, because Mami forces him to walk me to school. He acts like it’s a drag and complains in curses under his breath, but as soon as we’re a block from the building he carries my backpack and treats me like a real person. He asks me about classes and homework and what teachers I like. He tells me which guys to watch out for and who he thinks I should hang out with. Sometimes we stop at the deli and get donuts or a bagel. Luciano always pays for mine, even when I have money.
I love to watch him eat almost more than anything else. He takes such big bites and he chews fast like a hungry dog on the street. Sometimes he gets cream cheese or donut glaze on the corner of his mouth. I tell him it’s there and he quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand. Sometimes he drinks coffee like a grown-up. He adds milk and sugar, puts the lid on, then shakes the cup vigorously between his thumb and his forefinger. That’s my favorite part.
At school he always meets up with his boys. I linger for a minute or two so I can watch him get his swagger on. He swears and talks dirty and starts to tease hard. They all act like they’re tough and throw pretend punches and spit on the pavement in the yard. The other boys tease him about me being his girlfriend. If I had a dollar for every time he had to say, “mi prima, Son!” I’d be rich enough to move out of this city. But saying I’m his cousin only encourages their interest—they think that means I’m fair game and they always start messing with me. I watch for Luciano’s signal, which comes in the form of an aggressive nod toward the school doors accompanied by a stern look in his eye. I quickly
wave goodbye and scurry off to my classes. Sometimes I hear them talk about my body or say my ass looks good. I know it’s disrespectful and that I should be mad about it. But I want them to say it in front of Luciano. I want him to know what it feels like for me when he talks about Yaritza.
I don’t really see him much during school hours. Luciano is a sophomore and I’m just a freshman, which means he is from Mars and I’m from Jupiter. I take AP classes and stay after school for activities. Luc leaves school with his friends and they go smoke weed by the graveyard. We often eat dinner together, at my mom’s or his. He eats huge plates of food and Mami tells him he eats like a man.
“Tell Belén to stop staring at me,” he says, taking a bite out of a drumstick. I kick him under the chair and he laughs at my reactions.
“That’s the best you can do?”
“I put your toothbrush in the toilet,” I say the first mean thing I come up with.
“Now, I know you didn’t do that because your lips stick out like this when you lie,” he says, imitating my face, his mouth full of arroz con gandules.
I bang my fist on the table and kick him again.
“Okay, okay, come on, niños, let’s eat,” Mami says, lighting a cigarette.
“If that’s really how you fight, Belén, I’m gonna spar with you and teach you how to protect yourself.”
“That’s a good idea, Luc. You’re not always going to be around to protect her.”
That’s a terrible idea, Mami! I don’t want him to touch me. What do they mean that Luciano won’t always be here with me? Where would he go? I don’t know what I’d do without him. I can’t let Luciano go anywhere. Ever. Without me.
I watch him plow through his dinner. He practically swallows without chewing, like a starving dog on the corner.
Chapter 5
One Saturday morning, Mami asks me to go downstairs to get a screwdriver from Titi. The curtain rod fell down last night and the screw needs to be tightened. She’s been using a butter knife but it doesn’t seem to cut it.
I’m working on my math flash cards and I tell Mami to call her.
“Your titi spent the night at Eduardo’s, but Luc should be there. “
I jump up so quickly that I knock my chair over behind me. My eyes dart to Mami and she shakes her head at me.
“It’s okay to be best friends, cariño, but you need to stop crushing on your cousin.”
“I’m not!” I holler defensively and my hands find their way to my hips. “I think he’s disgusting. His feet stink and he’s gross when he talks about girls.”
“Okay. I just don’t want you to get your heart hurt.”
“Gosh, Mom, shut up!” I say, jamming my feet into my house slippers. I run down the two flights of stairs and bang on the door of his apartment. I wonder if I’ll be shy around him because of what Mami says. If she can tell, probably everyone knows I’m crushing. I can feel my face turning red.
Luc opens the door in just his underwear and blinks sleepy eyes at me.
“Oh, hey Bey,” he says, turning back toward the bedroom without even asking me how I am or why I came down here. He has his hand stuck in his boxers, scratching, as he slowly pads away from me.
“Luciano, I need a screwdriver,” I say speaking to his back.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he says, turning to face me. His hair is sticking up all over the place. His chest looks so warm and inviting. “Put the coffee on, would you? I’ll find it in a second.”
I get to work in the kitchen boiling the water in the olla to make him some café bustelo. Titi still makes it on the stovetop, not in a drip coffee maker like Mami got at the discount store.
I hum a little as I measure three tablespoons out of the can and add them to the water. Then I hear voices and my hand stops midair and so does my heart.
Luc has a girl over and they are in the bathroom. Even though the water’s running I can hear them speaking in hushed tones to one another.
I look down and stir the coffee, trying to squeeze out the tears and wipe them away before anyone notices. I know he has girlfriends. I know he’s probably even having sex. But my chest is constricting in a painful way and it’s hard to breathe.
When they come out, I look up and then quickly resume looking at the pot. I recognize her from school; she’s one of the popular girls. Maybe even the prettiest one, with a nice body and pretty hair and good style with her clothes. She’s wearing a halter top that Mami wouldn’t be caught dead letting me leave the house in. It’s a top meant for Friday night parties, not Saturday mornings.
She smiles at me and waves but her smile looks fake. She kisses Luc on the lips and I can’t tear my eyes away. Their mouths are moving and wide open; Luc’s hand moves to her butt. I look back at the coffee and swallow past a giant lump in my throat.
I’ll have to get used to it, because this is how it will be. All of the girls like Luc and none of the boys even notice me.
She has gum in her mouth and she snaps it when they pull apart. “See ya,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or Luciano. He slams the door behind her and comes into the kitchen wearing jeans, no shirt on, both of his hands shoved in his back pockets.
“Done yet?” he asks, peeping over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I say. “Do you want milk and sugar?”
“I’ll get the screwdriver,” he says, and kneels down and starts to rummage under the sink.
“Is that your girlfriend?” I ask, trying to sound casual while adding milk to his coffee.
“Fuck, I had too much to drink,” he says, grasping his head in his hands. “Screwdrivers, too.” He stays crouched down, cradling his face. I want to run my hand through his hair like Mami does for me whenever I have a headache.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the coffee from me and falling into a chair at the kitchen table. He takes a long sip and closes his eyes.
I’m shaking all over. I set my mug down for fear of spilling it.
“No, she’s not my girlfriend. Just a chick from the party,” he says, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.
He slides the screwdriver over to me and his fingers brush mine. The tiny touch sets off a swarming buzz of feelings. I choke down the sob in my chest. I want to gag or maybe scream, anything to vomit out this awful feeling inside of me. It’s jealousy. It’s ugly and it’s twisting up everything inside me.
“Wait a minute, Belén, what’s wrong? Are you going to cry?”
“I’m going to tell Titi you had a girl over and that you kissed her goodbye.” I was doing my very best to hold them in but now the tears are freely falling.
“What the fuck, Bey? I thought we were on the same team. Why the fuck do you want to tell on me?”
“That girl is a slut and I don’t even want to know what she was doing in your bedroom!” I stand and grab the screwdriver. I’m so angry it feels like a weapon in my shaking hand.
“Wait, Belén, are you jealous?” As he says it he stands.
I raise the screwdriver and brandish it like I need to defend myself from him.
“Put that down, loca,” he says, his hands up in the air, waiting on the offense.
I hadn’t thought of hurting him, but suddenly I want him to feel the pain that I’m feeling. I charge at him with the screwdriver and he catches both of my hands by the wrist. He’s so much stronger than me that I almost feel like I should give up and start laughing. But I’m way too saturated with emotion, so I push him back as hard as I can. He pins both my wrists to the refrigerator door right beside my face. The silver of the screwdriver is visible in my peripheral vision. I can see the confusion in Luciano’s brow as his eyes search my face trying to assess how serious I am. I push my arm forward, the one that’s holding the screwdriver, with all of my might. He shakes my wrist forcefully, only
once, and the tool clanks to the linoleum tiles. I sniff because I don’t want the snot to run out of my nose. I can’t wipe my face because he’s got both of my arms. The tears won’t stop coming and Luciano is staring at me looking like he’s lost all the fog of his hangover. He’s squeezing my wrists hard and it’s going to leave marks.
I try to say something to him but all that comes out is a sob. I push forward again, trying to escape the cage that he’s made. He shoves me back harder and pushes a knee between my legs, using his body weight to pin me completely. His focus is on my lips and the look on his face is one of complete wonder. I look at his lips too and sob again remembering how passionately he kissed her. I’ve never been kissed. Never wanted to be until this very minute.
I shove against him again, this time using my hips. He pushes me back and now we’re even closer. His pelvis against mine, our heads slightly angled to keep our faces from touching.
“Belén?” he asks quietly.
“What?” I ask, still unable to control the crying.
I look him in the eye and I see a flash of anger and frustration. I can physically feel his hesitation. I push forward with my hips and he pulls one arm down, leaving the other still pinned next to my head. I can’t help but stare at his lips—the top one as full as the bottom. Lips that I know have the perfect arch, the outrageously cute smile, and the syrupy, guilty pull of desire.
I lick my lips and I know my expression is pained. He pushes his hips forward again and I make a sound that’s not a cry but something more related to pleasure—something else has overtaken the pain.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks in a husky whisper.
I can’t say anything. I continue to push my hips forward, seeking the heat that it’s bringing me.
