Cubanita

by Gaby Triana

  My mouth opens to protest, but something stops me. Probably the fact that it really doesn’t bother me anymore. So I’m a cubanita, too. So I do things for my mom. So what?

  “All right, Coach. Catch a big one. Maybe we’ll grill it here on Sunday, if you want. You should hang out with my parents more, so they can get to know you.”

  “Definitely, sweetie. I’ll call you tomorrow. Have fun.”

  “You too.”

  We hang up, and I plop into my desk chair. I start a new e-mail:

  From: Isabel E. Díaz

  To: C. Díaz-Sanders

  Subject: Big Night

  Carmen, how’ve you been? Thanks for the money and the dress. It fits perfectly.

  Guess what? Andrew and I are taking a big step tomorrow. Please don’t tell anybody. Mami would kill me. Dad would start his lecture about responsible sex. Stefan would beat Andrew’s ass. Nobody seems to like him, even though he’s nice to me. I’m sending you a picture. He’s sooo hot, which can suck, since other girls flirt with him a lot. Mami says he’s not interested in me, but I just don’t see it. If he’s not, then he’s a really good actor. Say hi to Dan for me.

  Love, Isabel

  I attach a photo of Andrew and me, heads together at Stefan’s birthday dinner, smiling, then hit “Send.” There’s a knock at my door, and cologne filters in, which could only mean one person.

  “Open.”

  Stefan turns the knob and peeks in. “What’re you doing?”

  “Looking for movie times.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m going to see if Mami wants to go. If not, I’ll go alone. I don’t care.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Isa, mama, you’re eighteen! Let’s go, come on. We’ll go to that new place that just opened in the Grove—the Library, I think it’s called.”

  “Nah, it’s okay,” I say, but Stefan walks in and opens my closet.

  “No, Isa. You’re coming with me. I’ve been waiting all this time to take my little sis out partying, so find something hot. What is this?” He pulls out a flowery dress with a tag still attached.

  “Carmen sent it. For my birthday.”

  “Figures.” He reracks it and continues to search.

  “What time are we coming home?” I ask. I don’t want to be out too late partying.

  “Isa, who cares? What, do you have an appointment with the Catholic Church in the morning? Come on, get up. Up!” he orders.

  “Fine.” I guess it would be fun. I’m just not much of a partier. I’ve seen what clubs have done to Stefan’s brain. I get up and push him out of my way. “What’s the place like?”

  “Casual. Wear jeans or something. I’m leaving in half an hour to pick up Maite.”

  “Who?”

  “My girlfriend?” he says.

  “The one at the restaurant on your birthday?”

  “Yes.”

  So that’s her name! “Wow. A record for you, eh, Stefan?”

  “Very funny. She’s a sweetheart. I think I’ll keep her.”

  I’m too stunned to speak. My brother’s in love? Ñoooo. Unbelievable.

  Half an hour later I pass my parents in the living room on my way out. “Bye, I’m going out with Stefan.”

  “¿A dónde van?” Mami asks, her eyes glued to Univision.

  “To the Library.”

  “¿Sí? Ay, how nice.”

  Behind the TV Guide my father chuckles quietly.

  The Library is the coolest place I’ve ever seen. It’s wall-to-wall fake books, globes, and dark leather couches. The place is jam-packed with people, half of whom are wearing over-twenty-one wristbands, holding their drinks high above them as they try to navigate through the crowd. The music is awesome, a power mix of everything any decent partier would care to listen to. The center of the huge room has a dance pit, and the people inside bounce in unison under the colored lights. I think I’m in love.

  I used to wonder what people saw in dance clubs, whenever I watched Wild On! on the E! channel. They always looked so happy, woohooing for no reason, drunk beyond comprehension. But I think I get it now. There’s a strong vibe here. Everyone’s gathered for the same reasons—to have a good time, to escape. I can see how someone could get hooked on this.

  I guess my outfit worked, because guys are staring. I’m getting hi’s left and right. This must be how Andrew feels when girls go gaga over him.

  Andrew. Ay, ay, ay. Tomorrow is it. I probably won’t sleep tonight. I just know we’ll have a great time. I hope I’m not too nervous to relax, because I must relax. It’s the only way to go. And at the Biltmore, too, of all places. It’ll be wonderful and romantic and memorable, and…

  “Isa, you want something virgin?” My brother shouts over my brain fog.

  “Huh?”

  “Virgin daiquiri, virgin margarita, virgin Coke?” He laughs.

  “Oh.” Duh. “Get me a Diet.”

  He turns back to the bartender. I glance around, taking in the scene. A great Nine Inch Nails song comes on, which I always forget the name of, but the lyrics are deliciously bad. The dance floor is going crazy. I’d say this song just elevated everyone to a higher plane of partyhood.

  Next to me, Maite squeals in delight, then wraps her arms around Stefan’s waist. Across from me a guy and a girl hammer down two shots of whatever, then proceed to swallow each other’s faces. They don’t care that anybody’s watching; they’re enjoying their performance. They need a room, far, far away from here.

  I know I came with these two goons, and I’m surrounded by hundreds of people, but all of a sudden, I feel alone. Everybody seems to have someone to share this song with. Except for a shitload of guys with their backs to the wall, watching the rest of the room climb to musical ecstasy. Why did Andrew have to go fishing?

  Suddenly the place comes together in a deafening cry that sends a shiver up my spine. The crowd shouts the lyrics with glee.

  Holy shit. A room full of drunk, horny people. This is making me dizzy. Stefan is grinding his hips into Maite’s, with his drink in one hand and my Diet Coke in the other.

  “Here, give me that,” I say, taking the glass from him. “Before you spill it on me.” The music bangs my brain, the lyrics feed my fantasies of Andrew. I can just see him now…pounding like the rhythm in this club. This is driving me insane. Tomorrow is too far away.

  Then there’s a face next to me, a hottie of unspeakable beauty with green eyes. “Wanna dance?” he asks.

  Uh. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. Not to this song, anyway. “No, thanks.”

  “You sure?” He tilts his head, giving me one last chance before he’s off to ask someone else.

  I could transfer my thoughts of Coach onto this guy. I could, but I won’t. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks, though.”

  He shrugs and spins off into the sea of people. I feel bad for having turned him down, but after giving Andrew a hard time for having his hand so close to Susy’s butt, I’d be a hypocrite if I grinded with this guy.

  “What did he say?” Maite yells into my ear. She’s already buzzed and doesn’t know I can hear just fine.

  “He asked me to dance.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “My sister’s a good girl,” Stefan shouts, before I can conjure up an answer of my own.

  My sister’s a good girl. That sounds like an insult. Is he saying I don’t know how to have fun? Is he saying I don’t know how to let go? Is that how people see me? Well, nobody’s seen me with Andrew, but Andrew knows. And he’ll know me even better tomorrow.

  The song extends for another few minutes. The DJ’s not stupid. He knows which tunes to keep and which to let go. It’s a miracle that people are not leaving to work off the sexual tension from this song. It’s almost thick enough to see.

  But by the time the song mixes flawlessly into a new one, I can spot the couples who’ve had enough, the ones ready to leave and indulge in more than music. One of them is a guy tall enough to play basketball leading a tiny
girl by the hand, tugging her along like a prize. I wonder if they just met or came here together. Another couple could easily be mistaken for Carmen and Dan, were I not absolutely sure they’re in Virginia, and that Carmen would never be caught dead at a club playing “Closer.”

  That’s the name of the song!

  And then I see another couple. They move in the shadowy part of the room, away from the dance floor and smoke machines. They’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, her hands tousling his hair, his strong jaw commanding hers. Commanding hers. My heart stops.

  Wait. I know that jaw. That hair.

  The dance scene fades from my vision, and the music plays in the far distance, as if from another place.

  “Isa? Watch your drink, mama.”

  Watch your drink, I think I heard my brother say. Watch your drink? Watch your man, my brain whispers. Watch your man devour someone else. I hear a grinding noise in my head—my teeth. My stomach flips as I stand there with my drink dripping off the edge of the glass. My brother straightens it.

  That can’t be Andrew. He’s out fishing with Iggy and his dad. It’s not him, Isa. He wouldn’t do that to you. He said he was crazy about you, remember? He wouldn’t…it can’t be! There’s no way.

  But it is him. There’s no mistaking those eyes, that look.

  They pull apart, and under a beam of red light, I see the girl’s face way too clearly. Susy, grinning, biting her lower lip. I feel completely drained of blood. My feet are planted into the ground, and all I can do is watch. Watch, as he runs his hands along her shoulders, back, down to her ass. Watch, as she presses her tits into his chest, like I’ve done so many times. Watch, as he whispers into her ear, and they make for the door faster than you can say fuck me.

  “Isa?” My brother’s in my face.

  Shut up, Stefan! Shut the hell up! But I can’t say it. Every inch of me is paralyzed. My heart is going to break out of my chest any second now. I watch as he leads her out the door until they’re out of sight.

  Ese niño es una mosquita muerta. He’s not interested in you.

  How could I have been so stupid? So blind?

  It’s a need, hija, the power of need.

  “Isa?” Stefan’s arms are around me, Maite is at my side, lightly touching my waist. “¿Qué pasa, mama?”

  I want to tell him I’m floating through a tunnel with no air. I want to tell him he was right about Andrew. But the laser lights and the smoke and the music all swirl together like a nightmarish carnival. The party people dance and howl, their laughter, multiplied in my head, over and over again.

  “Just get me out of here.”

  Twenty-one

  “Stefan, I am not going to plow a service truck into the side of Andrew’s car.” I open my night table drawer and begin looking for the right color nail polish for tonight’s momentous occasion.

  Stefan grabs the bracelet Andrew gave me off my dresser and hurls it into the trash. “No? Then I will.”

  “Would you stop it?” I swear, this big brother thing is getting to be too much.

  “I told you. I told you you couldn’t trust that dickhead.”

  “No, you didn’t. Stef, would you calm down?”

  He paces in the middle of my room. “I’m gonna kick his ass all the way back to Indianapolis.”

  “Daytona.”

  “Whatever.” He throws himself on my bed, tossing and retossing my pillow into the air. “Even Maite knew it. She saw how he was with Susy at the gym, but didn’t say anything because she wasn’t sure. It might’ve just been innocent flirting.”

  “There’s no such thing, Stefan. Flirting is cheating’s ugly cousin.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Look, I’m going to handle this, not you. It’s my problem.”

  “You sure? ’Cause if you want, I can see to it that his tires go flat.”

  “Would you stop it?” I say, turning to look him in the eye. “I’m not going to do anything like that. In fact, I’m going to pretend nothing happened.” I pick a bottle of nail polish and close the drawer. “After all, I’m not supposed to know his little secret, right? We’re supposed to have a wild time tonight in a romantic hotel, aren’t we? Celebrate our newfound love for each other?”

  “Pfft,” Stefan says, then gets real quiet.

  Oh, yes. We’ll celebrate all right.

  Stefan and I lie there on the bed without talking for, like, ten minutes. Which is good. I can finally think without him going nuts around me. I’m a good girl, right? So I should probably take this with a grain of salt. I mean, Susy’s just offering her slutty self, whereas Andrew told me he loved me.

  “Turn my cheek, that’s what I’m going to do. Give him a piece of my ass, just like he wants. What do you think about that, Stef?”

  I look over. Stefan’s asleep. For such a big goon, he can be pretty cute sometimes. I kiss his forehead. Then I lean back into my pillow and paint my toenails Bad Girl Red.

  At the Biltmore Hotel Andrew and I order dinner in a courtyard restaurant. There’s an accordion and violin duet playing. The night is so pretty.

  “So how was fishing last night?” I ask, chin in my hands, elbows on the table.

  His eyes turn to the fountain next to us. “Awesome!”

  “Yeah? That’s so great that you and Iggy go fishing every weekend like that. You guys must be really good buddies.”

  “Uh-huh, he’s really cool. Super guy.” He slides the silverware out of position, into position, out of position…

  “Right.” I nod. Right, asshole. “So tell me again, if you and Ig are such good friends, why’d you move out? I think you told me, but I must’ve forgotten.”

  “I said I wanted a place of my own, which is true, but also because Iggy…well, he’s great and all, but the dude gets jealous, you know? He got some dumb idea that I was after all his girlfriends.”

  Ohhhhh. I see it now. Clearly. You guys are not good buddies anymore. You don’t even talk to each other since you started taking away all of Iggy’s girls with your charm and your looks. And then came Iggy’s last girl, Susy.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Man, that is dumb!” I laugh, sitting back in my chair, fake-wondering how anybody could think that of Andrew. “Is that why he never introduced you to Susy when they were going out?”

  “I guess so. I never met her till day camp at Anhinga started. I never even knew she was the Susy he talked about.”

  Riiight, and that’s when your radar zeroed in on her bull’s-eyed butt and my stupid heart. My stupid, stupid heart.

  “Interesting. And wasn’t it also a coincidence that the two of you ended up in the same gym? Small world, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. Small world.” Andrew chugs his water.

  Our drinks come—a beer, a Diet Coke, and a shot of something. After the waiter leaves, Andrew picks up the shot glass. “For my little señorita, on her eighteenth birthday!” He leans in for a kiss first, before handing it to me, and I can’t help but think of where his lips were last night. My insides get all tight, no butterflies in sight, but I go along with it.

  “Thank you. To a wonderful evening.” I take the shot glass from him. I’m gonna need it.

  “To a wonderful evening,” he says back, with a wicked smile that might’ve induced some form of swooning, were I not so ludicrously pissed right now.

  I place the glass to my lips and shoot back the fiery liquid. Damn! I place it back down with a hard clank.

  “Wow!” Andrew says, readjusting his seat, mouth open. “That’s my girl!”

  I smile. Yep, I’m gonna get buzzed and you’re gonna get it all right. Good girl, my ass. “So where’s our room?”

  “Eleventh floor.” He reaches across the table for my hand. “With a balcony. View of the golf course and all of Coral Gables.”

  “Really?” I knew that already when I called the hotel. All the better. “That’s so sweet of you, Andrew.”

  Our plates arrive, and I make it a point to enjoy the lobste
r tail as much as possible. Thank God my bloodstream now has some fuel to battle the Goldschlager that’s racing through it.

  After we finish, the waiter brings a dessert menu, but Andrew waves it away, requesting the bill instead. Interesting, we always have dessert. The waiter returns, and Andrew signs the check.

  “Know what I think?” Andrew asks, folding the receipt and placing it in his wallet.

  That you’re the hottest shit ever to blow through here?

  “No, tell me.”

  “I think we should have dessert in our room.” He watches my eyes carefully and waits.

  “I think that’s a great idea. It’s about time we really celebrate.” I bite my lower lip and softly bat my lashes. Hook, line…

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Sinker.

  The elevator rattles, its little bells ding softly. The doors open to a Mexican tiled foyer and carpeted hallway ahead. I’ve never been inside the Biltmore, but I know it has a reputation for being haunted. Maybe the ghosts are following us right now. Maybe they’re reading my thoughts. Maybe their presence will give me more strength.

  We reach the room, where Andrew pauses before slipping in the card key. “I just want you to know…this summer has been the most awesome ever because of you. You’re the most incredible person. All I want is for you to have a great time.”

  Blah, blah, quit jerking me around. “I’m sure I will, Andrew.” I’m sure I will.

  He pops open the door and flicks on the light. For a moment I almost forget why I’m here. Andrew’s dad will freak when he sees the Amex bill. Roses everywhere, a basket of blank canvases and new oils wrapped in cellophane and a red bow, and in the corner of the room—the painting of the guajiro we saw on our first date.

  Good move, jerk.

  I fight back the urge to cry and tell him it’s okay, that I forgive everything. Let’s just go on as if nothing ever happened. You really are a wonderful person, you just got caught up in Susy’s web, I understand. My hand covers my mouth. Why did he have to buy that painting?

  “Well?”