Down to the Bone

by Mayra Lazara Dole

  Soli screams from indoors. “Yo, dildos, we need some help!”

  Tazer slaps my back. “I’m over you, though. Come on, chica. Let’s go!”

  I pull on his streaked bangs. “You’re all right, Tazer. I’m excited you’re back in my life.”

  We walk indoors arm in arm, just goofing off.

  I bought party hats, balloons and crepe strips to hang from the ceiling, along with games, gifts and an organic guava and cream cheese cake. Soli bought a Santa Barbara piñata with a large red cape covered with fake pearls. Soli’s super slick in her lime green dress, so tight you’d think she’ll soon die of asphyxiation.

  “Listen up, guys,” she announces, tugging at her nose ring. “Once Mima pulls off the cape, little chocolate saints and teeny chocolate dicks will shower the floor.”

  Soli has always been generous to her mom and vice versa. If those two didn’t have a penny to fall back on, they’d still make sure to give each other lavish surprise birthday parties. Last year, on Viva’s birthday, Soli took us on a trip to St. Augustine to visit Viva’s cousin Andreita.

  Viva, Marlena, Andreita, Soli and I roamed the streets talking and laughing. We went on a carriage ride, entered cozy cafés, bookstores and swam at the beach. The azaleas and orange blossoms were in full bloom. Marlena and I were so in love the colorful flowers made the world around us a scented paradise.

  Soli did the unexpected that day. Andreita, who’s got a coconut oil suntan lotion business, invited Viva to a spa massage, then to dinner. She paid for a five-star hotel for all of us to stay in. After a feast, Soli took them to a play, then to watch the stars. Marlena and I had the hotel room to ourselves for five hours. Soli told Viva, “They want to go watch a lecture from a famous author at the bookstore down the road.”

  Marlena and I loved each other that day to the bone. We were so overwhelmed with passion we talked about having our honeymoon there.

  The doorbell rings and my memories disperse. I let the caterers in. They leave globs of pink cheeses, croqueticas, greasy chicken wings, fried green triangular sandwiches, deep-fried glazed churros, ham and cheese balls, empanadas de carne, papas rellenas swimming in fat, neon-orange pudding, flan, and custards. This is Soli’s gift to her mom: clogged arteries.

  I found organic recipes online and made hummus, egg salad sandwiches, bocaditos, black bean dip, baked plantain chips and huge exotic fruit bowls (star fruit, litchis, papaya, mango, finger bananas, mamey, sapote, etc.). Diego brought a truckload of chips and sodas. Tazer bought crates of organic juices, guacamole, crackers, and fancy food I’ve never eaten like caviar, truffles and other delicacies. We’re ready.

  Viva’s video home phone which doesn’t work after it fell and the screen broke, and never, ever rings, rings! I make a mad dash for it, in the privacy of Viva’s bedroom, thinking it’s probably Pedri and I didn’t want to miss his call. I shut the door behind me.

  “Pedri?”

  “Shai?” Mami’s voice is at the other end. I fumble and drop the phone. I pick it up with shaky hands. She must have gotten my phone message. I said I had changed and wanted to introduce her to my new boyfriend. I waited a long time to let her know about London. I needed to be certain my relationship with him would work out. With my mother, I must be completely sure she believes I’ve transformed, or there’s no going back home.

  “Is everything okay?” I don’t know what to expect.

  “Not only did I get your message, but I know it’s true about you dating a boy. Graciela recently told me she saw you with a tall, thin, dark-haired boy around Miami.” She speaks fast Spanish, in a high-pitched voice, as if she were the happiest woman in town. “Is he really your boyfriend? You have a boyfriend, Shai? Tell me this is true!”

  “Yeah, Mami. I do!”

  A flashback of the day my mom was thrilled about setting me up on a blind date with a friend’s son slams my brain. The week before, she had told me, “All your friends have boyfriends except you.” Marlena was upset I was forced to go out on a date with a guy who looked like a movie star. The boy and I barely talked. He kept texting people and receiving text messages. Since he was playing that game, I texted CC, Soli, Olivia and Marlena and let them know what a horrible date I was on. It seems his mother had forced him to go out with me too. Roque wore more cologne than a group of girls at a perfume shop. I turned him off when I asked, “Would you mind getting off at that gas station and scrubbing your neck? I’m allergic to scents. They’re made with petrochemicals that seep into your glands. Not only are they terrible for everyone, but for allergic people, they’re hell and I don’t want a migraine.”

  I wasn’t joking, but I laid it on thick so he wouldn’t be into me. No lie. The kid picked me up with a gleaming smile and starry eyes. After he obliged, he came back with the corners of his mouth drooping. That’s when the texting started. He must have thought I was a freak. And, of course, Marlena was over the moon about my behavior. After watching a violent thriller, Roque dropped me off at my house. I was so tense I made myself a tuna fish sandwich dripping in mayo and was taking big bites out of it when my mom walked in the door.

  She called me into her room. “Follow me and tell me all about your date.”

  I tossed the sandwich on a plate and stormed into her bedroom, licking my fingers clean. Mami plunked herself on her bed and started slipping off her stockings, complaining about how tired and inflamed her feet got from working so hard.

  I leaned into the doorway and exclaimed, “My date went great! Incredible! Unbelievably perfect! I’ve fallen in love with him!” Then turned around and marched back into the kitchen.

  Mami came to me. She asked why I was shouting like that. “Are you sure you had a good time? You never scream.”

  “I told you not to introduce me to random guys, Mami.” I explained the terrifying, gory movie he made me watch. “I didn’t have a say. I was stuck watching it. Afterward, all he did was talk about himself and how he’s going to be recruited to be a pitcher for the major leagues one day. Oh, and he smelled like a girl, and all he did was fix his hair in the car mirror. I think he might be gay.” I lied about the gay thing, but not about anything else. I knew that would make her never want me near him again. “Don’t ever set me up on a blind date.”

  The memories stop and I hear my mom’s voice. Something inside me collapses, and I don’t feel so blissful talking to my mother. I thought I’d be ecstatic. The idea of her calling me back was so intense I believed I’d be the happiest person alive. What a letdown.

  She lets out a long sigh of relief. “Have you been seeing him a long time?”

  I deepen my voice. “Five whole months.” I want it to sound powerful, as if a century has passed by.

  “Five months?! This is serious. I can’t tell you how happy I am!”

  I play with the phone cord, feeling upset my mother hasn’t even asked me how I’m doing. She doesn’t have a clue I quit school or that I’m working full time. All she cares about is that I’m dating a guy. I should have known to expect this from her.

  “That’s the best news I’ve ever heard in my life!” She pauses a moment. “What’s his name?”

  “Francisco Bustamante,” I say dryly, “but everyone calls him London.”

  “¡Qué cosa más grande la vida! In Cuba the Bustamantes were wealthy, high-class people before Fidel, el hijo de puta, took their wealth and turned them into poverty-stricken animals. The grandchildren of those Bustamantes came to Miami and are very well off. I bet you his great-great-grandparents are people my great-grandmother knew.”

  I don’t comment about politics or anything that will enrage her. I’ve learned my lesson. Being mute with my mom, never expressing my true feelings, or saying the truth about things that will upset her, is the best way.

  “Listen, we finally moved into our dream house in Coconut Grove. We’ve just finished furnishing and unpacking. Jaime and I are leaving to Europe for three weeks the day after tomorrow.” She talks for a while about her life and what s
he’s been doing. “We’ve been traveling on weekends with Pedri, sightseeing, and doing all those things I was never able to do. Jaime is a blessing. He treats Pedri like his own son.”

  “I’m so glad, Mami.”

  I ask her more questions about her life so she doesn’t focus on mine. As she talks, I can tell she’s having a marvelous time, and doing well. I wonder how I would have fit in with the three of them.

  “We’ll be stopping in Spain to visit your aunt and uncle. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon so we can talk.”

  “Great!” I can’t wait to go to their new house and see Pedri. “Is Pedri going with you to Europe?”

  “No. He’ll be staying here with Zenaida. Jaime’s sister adores him. She’s become like a second mother to him. He doesn’t want to go; he’s terrified of flying and started having nightmares. I trust Zenaida to take care of him. You can come see him to make sure things are running smoothly. If you’re still changed, and are still with your boyfriend, we can talk about your moving back when I return.”

  My hands get clammy, and I rub them on my pants. “Okay, Mami.” She gives me the address of their new house and I memorize it.

  Pedri hadn’t known how to explain where they were living. He just said, “It’s no fun. I don’t know nobody. There are no kids in the street to play with. It’s bad. I miss my friends and I miss you too much.” I knew it was somewhere in the ritzy Coconut Grove neighborhood they’d been planning on moving to, but exactly where, I wasn’t sure.

  Suddenly, my stomach feels like it’s on fire. I almost wish I had never called her to tell her about London. I want her to love me unconditionally.

  “Can I talk to Pedri?”

  She hands him the phone. “Shyly!” The tiny candy voice at the other end lifts my spirits.

  “Little Punk! I’m going to see you every day now. We’ll spend Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s together.” I feel as if a party were going on inside me. “I’ll be there early tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to see you!” My call to Mami was all worth it now.

  “Yaaaaaay!” he cheers and it melts my heart. Even though I’ve been seeing him a lot during lunch breaks, it’s not the same as being with him every day.

  “It’s Viva’s birthday party, so I need to go now. But I’ll pass by Toys R Us tomorrow morning after breakfast before Mami comes to pick me up to visit you.”

  “Okay, Shyly. I love you.”

  “I love you more than all the deserts, rivers and even the sun, my Little Punk. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Me too.” We throw each other kisses, and he hands the phone over to my mom.

  “See how easy it would have been if you had taken my advice and dated a boy from the beginning?”

  I say nothing. She keeps stabbing at my heart without even knowing it.

  “Okay, Shai, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve missed you, I love you, and I want you back.”

  “Okay. Bye, Mami. Have fun in Europe.” We hang up. I’ve missed her so much too, and I love her deeply, but I couldn’t utter those three words. I don’t trust her to not hurt me again.

  I could tell myself she’s my mom and everything will be beautiful, like it used to before the Incident, but that’s just not me. In her view, unless I’m with a guy, I’m worthless. If I don’t achieve what she has (a good marriage and children) she may never see me as someone of value. Having a dick in one’s life (a male) equals power to her. Females, regardless of how strong they are and even if they’re CEO’s, doctors, attorneys, billionaire businesswomen, they’re still nothing without a man according to Mami. No one knows what the future may bring. In the meantime you can prepare so your mother can one day find you worthy and special, instead of a failure.

  I slap my face a bunch of times. I take deep breaths, and walk slowly to the living room.

  People pile in. Soli’s friends from work, Viva’s metaphysical friends and the neighbors. It’s jam-packed.

  Jaylene walks in. “Shai!” She hugs me nice and hard. “You look fantastic, girl.” She turns to the wild-haired, cinnamon-colored girl with melancholy, poetic eyes standing on her right. “This is Gisela.” She points to me. “And this is Shai, the greatest tree and landscape sketcher in the world.”

  “Hey, I know you from Cha-Cha’s restaurant, remember?” Gisela says in a melodic voice. She’s got on the same type of thrift-shop clothes I’m wearing. Her checkered pants are green and brown. Mine are checkered aqua and sea green. Her Indian print blouse is long and slinky. Mine is short, showing my belly button, with long, loose sleeves, ’70’s retro style. We’ve got on the same type of square-toed ankle boots.

  She locks her dreamy emerald eyes on mine. “How’s it going?”

  I want to say, “Magnificent now, since you’ve just made my day and my whole life.” But instead, I tell her, “Good, and you?” My heart is skipping beats. I don’t know what I’m doing and I grab a vase from the coffee table to polish it with my hands.

  Jaylene saves the day. “Gisela is Rosa’s friend, you know, the girl I’ve been dating. She just graduated from high school and also enjoys foreign films. Since you love Italian, French, all types of foreign movies so much, I thought you’d want to meet her.”

  Jaylene talks about political films of historical relevance to women and how, when she was a child, they influenced her into becoming an activist. Gisela and I mention Cuban films and how, sadly, Communist propaganda rules the movies Cubans can watch. If they want to see an American film, they’ve got to buy it in the black market for an eyeball and a foot. We effortlessly jump to talk about other things. “There’s a lake in Hialeah I went to last week on my day off,” Gisela says. “I was swimming with the ducks when a snake slithered past me.”

  Jaylene and I listen with widened eyes as she explains that her friend took a heavy branch and hit the snake over the head till it swam away. If it had been poisonous, I wouldn’t be talking to Gisela right now. From one second to the next, life can either get you good or gift you.

  I’m enjoying Gisela way too much. Just what I needed: the girl of my dreams to also love the same types of films, be into solar energy, retro music, organic foods, water sports, politics and fun in the sun right after I tell Mami I’m straight.

  I speak to her in my broken Italian I’ve learned from a travel handbook and from watching Italian films. “Come stai?”

  Her braces have made her teeny teeth so perfectly lined up you’d think the dentist chiseled them down just before she got here. “Bene.” She smiles sweetly and my insides go all mushy, like melting, chocolate kisses. “That’s about all I know.” She smiles again, smoothly as a placid pond and holds onto her colorful beaded necklace. She has a suave demeanor as she gives her curls a distracted push away from her eyes.

  We realize interests we share in common: architecture, music, novels, electric cars, hiking, camping out, riding bikes and traveling. When she speaks about environmentalism, it creates a shine around her that leaves me stunned. I shift from foot to foot and try to pull myself together.

  “How long have you been Green?” I ask.

  “Since I was a fetus. I came out of my mom’s womb scolding her about the way she was destroying the planet by polluting and hurting humans with the choices of chemicals she used on a daily basis.”

  She grabs a bottle of sparkling grape juice off the coffee table next to us and takes sips of it while I speak excitedly about exotic fruit trees. “I’d like to fill the yard with them. One day, I want to be completely off the grid, use no emissions and make zero footprints.”

  She grins. “Me too.”

  I carry on about how even during bad economic times, millions who don’t have much line up outside stores on Black Friday, and on the day after Christmas, and collectively purchase billions of dollars worth of gifts. “I know we’re bombarded with advertisements about unnecessary items we need to buy, but shouldn’t people be spending their hard-earned cash on paying debts and on necessities?” She agrees. We have so much in common
it stings.

  We mention new and classic Italian films we love. She adores Lina Wertmuller, Fellini and other dead directors from a distant era as much as I do. She mentions global warming, tsunamis, snowstorms, earthquakes and other types of storms. I say, “Solar storms affect Earth. Part of the reason they happen is due to the relative position of the outer planets and the effect electromagnetic forces have on the sun relative to the earth.” I recently watched a documentary on the storms and am poised to impress, but hell, it’s so complicated I’m not sure if I confused the facts or got them right.

  “Yeah. Ancient people were aware of all types of celestial connections without NASA’s huge telescopes, and other pioneering technologies only the elite can afford.”

  Jaylene jumps in. I’m sure she’ll relate everything to women power or men’s behavior.

  “That’s for sure. Take the moon, for instance. One day, the first girl bled like her mom and didn’t die. Suddenly, all females in the tribe started having periods at the same time. This got males to view bleeding girls as goddesses, and more powerful than them, because they’d die if they bled for a week straight. Our pre-history was matriarchal. Those first girls noticed the connections between their bodies and the moon cycles affecting weather. The moon not only influences the tides. It affects certain stars when they rise, especially in the Nile River, where Sirius rose in the east and announced floods.”

  Gisela says, “Scientists take full credit for figuring that out. The first who understood the power of stem cells weren’t doctors and pharmaceuticals; they were the ancients and witches who took the blood of animals and women’s menstruation to heal their patients . . .”

  Being around Gisela so long slaps me into reality. I hear Pedri’s little voice, “Shyly, I love you. I miss you so much. When are you going to move back?”

  Something inside me rattles. The vase slips out of my hand and shatters into a thousand pieces. Jaylene, Gisela and I start pushing the glass with our shoes into a small pile. I insist I alone will pick it up.