by Gaby Triana
Stefan thinks this is extremely funny and a clever way of getting me to introduce Andrew to him. “Yo, bro, what’s up? I’m her brother.” He extends a hand to my guest.
“Stefan,” I tell Andrew. “‘Brother’ isn’t his real name.”
Andrew takes his hand, and they shake like buddies. “Andrew.”
“Like the hurricane.”
“Exactly.”
“Actually he is a Hurricane,” I clarify.
Apparently, from the way he’s staring at me, like his seventeen-year-old sister shouldn’t be calling a guy she’s only gone out with once a hurricane, Stefan still doesn’t get what I mean.
I shake my head. “A UM Hurricane, fool!”
“Oh!” Stefan tilts his head back, hand on his hip, other hand on his beer. “So you play football? That’s cool.”
Jesus. He’s hopeless.
Andrew tries helping Stefan out. “No, bro. I just go to school there.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, as in study?” I say. “As in he does something with his life besides scope the beach for sucias?”
“For what?” Andrew asks.
“’Hos,” I explain.
“Coño, Isa, I do not look for sucias. ¿Qué te pasa? ¿Tu ’tá nerviosa porque Fulanito ’tá aquí?”
I hate when he does this. It’s so rude of him to tell me things in Spanish when someone else around doesn’t understand him. It’s like abusing a superhuman power.
Andrew clears his throat. “There’s nothing wrong with her. I really don’t think she’s nervous ’cause of me, dude.”
Unbelievable. He understood. This is great! Go, Andrew!
“Oh, you speak Spanish?” Stefan acts happy about this. “That’s awesome, bro! So…mira, allí ’tá la cerveza,” he rattles off at rapid fire. “Seguro que la vas a encontrar rapidito porque tienes un olor a cerveza encima de madre.”
Andrew squints, turns his ear to Stefan. “Dude, I only know a little bit, so you gotta talk slower than that.”
“Oh, okay.” Stefan appears pleased. “I said, help yourself to a beer.” He winks and walks off, whispering, “Está más feo qu’el carajo.”
Asshole. Thank God Andrew missed that one. He wouldn’t have appreciated my brother saying that he reeks of beer and is uglier than hell. What upsets me is that Stefan didn’t know for sure that Andrew wouldn’t understand him, so he just took a risk in getting his ass kicked.
But hold up…is Stefan serious? Does Andrew really reek? I’ve been aware of something, but I thought it was the spill on my shirt. Now I really want to lean in and check for myself, but that would be too weird.
Instead, we walk to the patio table and hang out for a while, during which time I don’t notice any funny smells. I point out the various characters in my family, including Evelina, my dad’s flamboyant aunt, who currently entertains a thirty-year-old banker in her bedroom, despite her sixty-two years.
“Don’t ask,” I say. “She’s been serving the male public since her husband died nine years ago.” I remember Evelina changing practically overnight, like she was just waiting for the old guy to drop dead so she could cut loose.
Evelina notices us eyeing her and waves happily. We smile and wave back.
“She looks good for sixty-two,” Andrew says, side-glancing me for a reaction.
“Ha, ha.” He better be kidding.
Susy comes back with Patty, who drapes an arm around my shoulders. Leaning her head against mine, Patty whispers, “He’s hot, Isa! Where’d you get him?”
I ignore her. “Andrew, this is my cousin Patty.”
“Hey, nice to meet you.” He smiles.
A breath of air escapes her that sort of sounds like hi. She and Susy then exchange funny looks, like they’re agreeing on Andrew’s hotness. I wonder if the other girls here think the same of him.
Susy and Patty begin their commentary on the barbecue fashion faux pas while strolling around the patio. I look at Andrew and cross my arms. “Hey, where’s that pie you promised me?”
“Ah, the best dessert on Earth? I dropped it off on your kitchen counter. We’ll test it later.”
“Yes, and we’ll find out who rules, baby!”
My aunt Clarita whizzes by quickly, smiling politely, but announcing, “Escóndete, que ahí llegó el rey de España.”
“You’re kidding,” I say. Dammit. Robi’s here.
“What did she just say?” Andrew asks, squinting. “About the king of Spain?”
“That my ex-boyfriend’s arrived to join the fun.” I roll my eyes. So embarrassing. “Sorry. He’s not a jerk or anything. Probably won’t even bother us.”
His eyes open wide. “Really? So, what is he, a part of the family?”
“Some people think so. I haven’t seen him in a month, though. I have no idea why he’s here.”
Speaking of which, I haven’t seen my mother in a while either. Haven’t even introduced Andrew to her. I would’ve, but after I left her in the kitchen last night, we haven’t really spoken. She’s been so busy ignoring me and Coach, I figure she’s taking Robi’s side. Well, that’s just fine.
When Robi finally appears at the sliding glass doors, wearing a dark blue shirt with giant white stars on it and holding a paper plate, my stomach begins to ache. It’s only been a month, but he looks different. He cut his hair. He’s skinnier or something. Some people greet him heartily, some pretend not to see him, and some just smile faintly as he walks by. Susy says hello to him. He gives her a friendly kiss, then looks around nervously.
“Is that him?” Andrew asks. From across the yard, I see Susy making a face at me, behind Robi’s back, like she thinks this situation is highly amusing.
“Yep.” I try not to look at her or Robi. Don’t want him thinking I miss him. Don’t want the rest of the nosy clan to think the same either.
Robi’s never been the shy type, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he came over. In fact, that’s exactly what he seems to be doing, accompanied by Stefan. Robi just has to show everyone he has no bad feelings toward me and can handle this situation like a man. As he makes his way over, greeting a handful of my folks, I catch him looking at me then looking away. Finally he makes it to my corner of the yard.
“Hey, Isa,” he says, shy smile at his lips. He looks at Andrew for a moment.
“Hey, Robi.” I tug once at my earlobe, and Andrew pulls my hand away.
Robi glares at him for a moment. Then he bends down to kiss my cheek, which feels really weird after two years of lip-locking, and I notice what’s on his plate. A slice of Key lime pie. And it’s green. Major, and I do mean major, no-no! It must be Andrew’s mom’s. Mami would never put food coloring in the naturally yellow filling. Sacrilege!
Andrew offers his hand to Robi, who accepts it with the most serious attitude he can manage. After Robi starts to tell Stefan about a movie he saw last night, Andrew notices his mom’s pie and elbows me lightly. “See?” he says with a wicked smile. “Your mama’s going down.”
“Loser,” I tease back.
Behind Robi, Mami comes rounding the pool, a nervous smile on her face. She reaches us and puts one hand on Robi’s shoulder, another on Baboon’s. “¿Isa, viste quién está aquí?”
“No, Mami, I’m blind. Who’s here?”
Robi laughs.
Mom doesn’t. In fact, she completely ignores the remark, while eyeing Andrew at the same time. Andrew reaches up and takes her hand. “Mucho gusto, Señora Díaz. Yo soy Andrew.”
Awesome! His accent’s not that bad. Go Andrew, go Andrew!
Robi then turns to my mother, and, right there in front of us, inserts his foot as far back into his mouth as possible. “Elena, you make the best, most awesome Key lime pie.” He takes a huge forkful and downs it in a second flat.
Ay, ay, ay! I do not believe this. From the look on Mom’s face, she doesn’t either. She’s staring at Robi, tongue tucked into her cheek, waiting for a lightbulb to turn on inside his brainless head. When it doesn’t, she tur
ns without a word and walks away. Stefan grips Robi’s shoulder in sympathy and takes off too.
Robi stands there with me and Andrew, trying to figure out what just happened.
“Robi,” I say, “my mom doesn’t put green food coloring in her pie. It’s not traditional, remember?”
“Oh.” He looks down at his hand, as if he was holding a plateful of crap.
Hand over my face, I shake my head. “I can’t believe you just dissed my mom! And straight to her face, too! You better go kiss and make up. She’s the president of your fan club, after all.”
Frazzled, Robi turns around and starts talking to my uncle Tony and his brother-in-law’s former girlfriend’s roommate. Exactly.
Andrew leans his head on my shoulder and releases a quiet laugh. “Oh, my, God. Your ex just failed the freakin’ taste test!” He shudders from the hilarity of it all. I lean my head on his and laugh too. Poor Robi, he should’ve just quit while he was ahead. That’s what he gets for coming here.
From across the yard, I see Papi, arm around Mom’s shoulder, leaning down in his usual consoling position. Great, she’s wounded.
“I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay?” I ask Andrew. He nods, still grinning from ear to ear. I have to find out what’s wrong with Mami. As I step away, I see I’ll have to squeeze between Uncle Tony and Robi in order to get by. Something’s gonna have to rub against him. Boobs or butt?
But then, it happens—the one thing we can honestly say has never happened at a Díaz Fourth of July barbecue.
Robi steps back to let me through, and that’s when his sneaker goes squeak! Everyone near us gasps in horror, and the rest seems to happen very slowly. He slips off the ground, Key lime pie flying, napkin fluttering, arms waving, plate flipping, shirt billowing…all crashing into the deep end of the pool with a loud, sickening splash!
And, of course, all forty pairs of eyes fall on me.
Seven
I didn’t do it. But there was no convincing Robi of that, so he accepted a change of clothes and went home. The rest of the day sucked after that. Everybody scarfed down Mami’s Key lime pie but me. Andrew’s mom’s was okay. Coach said he’d done enough damage and would call me later.
But I still haven’t heard from him, and it’s 9:30 at night. So I open Outlook and find another e-mail from Robi.
From: Roberto Puertas
To: Isa Díaz
Subject: Nice party, Isa
Thanks for the push. Just what I needed after seeing you with that guy. Your brother told me you work with him. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to be the youngest teacher at that camp, huh? Whatever, not like it’s any of my business anymore. Have a nice summer.
Robi
Exactly what does he mean by “not such a good idea”? That Susy and Andrew are too old to be my friends? What would he rather I do, hang out with high school freshmen? Oh yes, that would keep me safely away from harm, now wouldn’t it. Why can’t he just leave me alone for a while like I asked?
As I’m logging off, Mom comes into my room to drop off a laundry basket. She leans on the doorframe and picks at her nails. “¿Isa, qué pasó hoy?”
I swivel around in my desk chair. “What do you mean?”
“Today. What happened? Did you push Robi, mi hija?”
Oh, Lord. “You’re not serious. You seriously think I would push Robi in the pool, Mami?”
Of course, she answers with a question. “Why are you doing this to him, Isa?”
“Doing what? I’m not doing anything! It’s time for me to move on, that’s all. If you love Robi so much, rent my room out to him once I’m gone! Jeez.”
Uh-oh, she’s going to snap at me, here it comes…
She doesn’t. She just stands there, straightening the stack of books on my dresser. “¿Mi hija, qué te pasa últimamente?”
I don’t believe this. “Mami, nothing is wrong with me lately. You’re the one who’s been acting all strange, getting into my business more than usual, and going off crying when Robi says he likes someone else’s Key lime pie. What’s with that?”
“Isa, no sabes lo que estás hablando.”
“Oh, no? Well, maybe if you talked to me more, I would know what I’m talking about. But instead, you just argue, pick fights, and invite my ex-boyfriend over without asking me!”
“Ah, so now he’s the ex-boyfrrrien, cuando hace dos años, no había ni día ni noche sin Robi?”
When did I ever say the world revolved around Robi? “Yes, Mom, it happens, okay? People go their separate ways. I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time with it.”
She’s quiet again, probably shocked at hearing me talk this way, I think. She would expect this from Carmen but not from me. “¿Quién era ese niño que vino?”
“I tried telling you, but you didn’t want to hear it. His name’s Andrew, like he told you. He’s the guy I had coffee with. He’s nice; I like him. So I invited him over. What’s the big deal?”
“How old is he?”
I don’t even know. That should probably be the first question to ask anybody on a date, but we had such a good time, it never occurred to me. “I’m not sure, Mom. I guess around twenty.”
I can tell she’s trying real hard to stay out of my business, but she can’t. Number one, because she’s a mom, and number two, because she’s a Cuban mom. If she doesn’t pester me to death about my life, they just might revoke her Cuban Mother License to Drive Daughters Away.
“Isa, no es buena idea. Listen to me…he’s older than you, mi vida, he’s in college, things are different for him. ¿Tú me entiendes?”
“No, I don’t understand. What are you saying? That because he’s older, I can’t handle him? Do I not use my best judgment? Did you not teach me about life properly?”
Why is she staring at me? She’s wondering if I’ve been talking to Carmen. Damn, I really sounded like Carmen just now, didn’t I? She has to know what’s coming next.
“Don’t you trust me?” I ask for the four hundredth time in my life.
She sighs. “No es eso, hija.”
“Well, if that’s not it, then what is it?”
She doesn’t answer. Again. Just spaces out. “No sé,” she says finally. “Hablamos mañana, I’m tired.”
And she leaves. Just like that. Really weird.
I know that Mom freaked out the summer before Carmen left for college too, so this is probably the same thing. She’s scared because I’m leaving and doesn’t know how to say it, so she’s looking for other reasons to argue. Weird way of saying I love you, please don’t leave, isn’t it?
Monday is a day off, but Andrew ends up calling late at night. My parents are outside talking, which is good, so I don’t have to explain such a late phone call.
“Hey, there!” Cheery, cheery.
“Hi, Coach. How are you?”
“Good. Sorry I didn’t call last night. I went fishing with Iggy and his dad, and we got back early this morning. Then I slept pretty much all day. Killer hangover.”
Attractive thought. Andrew sleeping off a buzz, like Stefan does sometimes, when Mom thinks he’s coming down with something. I guess that’s college life for you. I’ll be seeing it soon enough, so it’s good that I get a preview now. “That’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
Why do I care that he didn’t call sooner? He’s not my boyfriend or anything. “I thought maybe you got scared, after watching me throw my ex into the pool.”
“Oh, that? Nah. That was me actually. I used my super mental powers to trip him, and down he went.”
I crack up, but suddenly feel stupid for doing so. “Andrew?” I ask, my laughter lulling. “You know, I know I haven’t asked you this, but how old are you?”
He chuckles softly. “Hmmm, don’t know. My real parents left me on someone’s doorstep when I was just a baby, so no one knows for sure.”
I giggle some more. By now he probably thinks I’m a fool who laughs at anything, but this is nice for a change. Robi never made me laugh. I
t was always me amusing him.
“Seriously, how old do you think I am?” he asks.
“Um, twenty? Twenty-one?”
“Warm.”
Okay. “Nineteen?” If he graduated at seventeen like I did, I guess he could be starting his third year of coursework and be nineteen.
He laughs. “Nope. Cold.”
Uh-oh. I tug on my earlobe. “How old are you then?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Twenty-three, señorita.”
I’m sorry, but it sounded like he said TWENTY-THREE? What?! No way! That’s older than Stefan! The oldest person I ever kissed was Robi! I could’ve sworn Andrew was no more than twenty. But twenty-three? That’s like…like…out of my league. Awesome!
Awesome? Isa! Does he even know how old you are?
“Hello?” His voice seems deeper to me now for some reason. “Anybody there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” I breathe. “Sorry, I just—” My stomach’s working those butterflies again. “But you said you were a junior.”
“I am. After my first year my grades weren’t all that, too much partying, I guess. So my parents made me go home and work for the money I’d lost them. UM’s expensive, you know.”
“I know.” Silence.
“Is something wrong?” He sounds way older now. You know, maybe I’m liking this age thing.
“No, it’s just that…well, Andrew, how old do you think I am?”
“You just graduated high school, right? So…eighteen?”
Oh, brother. Here we go. I hope I’m not dropping a bomb here. “Seventeen actually.”
“Oh.”
“But my birthday’s next month, August twelfth. Look, it doesn’t bother me, if it doesn’t bother you. I mean, we can still go out again if you want.”
I hate these painful silences. What’s he thinking? Great, I bet now he doesn’t want to go out again. Let’s just stay happy coworkers, eh? Maybe he’ll move on to Susy now. But that kiss! So incredible. I definitely want more.
