I stumbled into my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I wished I could say I had gotten at least three hours of sleep, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking of Reyna. I should have just called her. Why didn't I call her? She was my best friend. I talked to her about everything that bothered me. But this time, she was what bothered me. Why couldn't she see that we would be a perfect couple? At least as long as Sam never found out.
I did a mental evaluation of my body. Surprisingly, nothing ached or tingled. Maybe I could make it through the day after all. Maybe I was already on my way to recovery. Yeah, everything was going back to normal already.
After dressing in my Charleston Prep sweats, I found the jar of fresh urine my little brother had left for me. I tried to ignore how odd it was that I had to have my little brother pee in a jar for random drug tests administered by my mother, but I was pretty sure that no other teenager in the world had to go through this.
"And Lawrence of all people," Sam was saying as she flipped through her notes from last night's game. "Why would you let Lawrence get the touch down? Why not Harry or Ben or Andrew?"
"What's wrong with Lawrence?" I said, letting the weight bar clank back into position and staring at my mother.
"Black football players don't need any extra help. They have genetic advantages. You should've let Harry, Ben or Andrew gain some extra yards."
"Genetic advantages?"
"Yeah, they were made to run. It's a scientific fact that they have more muscle tone than their white competitors. That's why you and I have to work even harder to compete with them."
I resumed my bench press and tried to block out my mother's ridiculous nonsensical tirade.
"That's why I could never beat them when I was competing. They are taking over the world of sports. Look at track, football and basketball. Watching those sports is like taking a trip to the ghetto or a prison. And baseball isn't much better. I swear they need to make it an English only sport."
"Mom, I don't wanna hear this, okay?" I said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t like Sam had never voiced her opinions on these matters before, it's just that usually I was able to ignore her. Today for some reason she really annoyed me.
"Well, you need to hear it. If it were up to me, sports would be segregated so that we can have a fighting chance. But it's not, so you need to know what you're up against. You have to play smarter than them since it's nearly impossible to be faster or stronger than they are. Marathons and Triathlons are the only place I have a chance anymore. Black registration is down twelve percent for the race in Italy I’m entered in for this month. I guess they’re too lazy for the long term commitment of a marathon."
"That's it! I'm done," I said as I slammed the bar down and stood up.
"The hell you are! You've only done three reps. Haven't you heard a word I've said?"
"Yes, I have. That's why I'm leaving."
"What is your problem?" Sam's tight thin lips curved into a grin. "Is this about that ghetto girl that thinks she's a doctor?"
"There's nothing ghetto about her, Mom. She lives five minutes from here. She lives in Mt. Pleasant in a house that probably costs more than ours."
"Then why does she look like she should be in a rap video? Listen, Scott, I know you two are close, but a relationship with a girl like that could ruin your image. Do you see Tom Brady or Brett Favre banging black girls in their spare time? No. But I'm sure Michael Vick did and where is he now? Huh? Jail."
I stared at her stunned. Where did she get this stuff from? What century was she living in? "That doesn't even make any sense."
"Whatever. Just...just do another rep." Sam added twenty pounds to the bar. “I know you think I’m crazy, Scott. I hear what people say about me. But I’ll tell you what’s really crazy, being point seven seconds away from the gold medal. Just point seven seconds away from everything you’ve ever wanted and not being able to grasp it because you didn’t push yourself enough. Crazy is living a lifetime of regret. I don’t want that for you, Scott. I’m trying to give you the tools now so that you can have everything you could ever want in the future.”
I sighed and tried my best to understand my mother even though she would never understand me. She would never understand that the only thing I wanted…was Reyna.
Chapter 8
The Saturday morning study session turned into an all day study session. At around one o'clock, most of the students went home, but Reyna singled out Shawan and asked her to stay. After taking her to lunch, they spent the rest of the day working Geometry proofs. Reyna did her best to make it fun and not seem like drudgery and after a few hours, they were actually laughing. Together, they took the lyrics of the new Kanye West song and changed them to important theorems Shawan needed to know. Reyna could just imagine her bursting into song during a test.
At around six, they both hopped into Reyna's yellow Volkswagen bug and headed home.
"Thanks for all your help, Reyna," Shawan said as they pulled in front of her apartment. "I can't believe we just spent ten hours doing Geometry, but I think I get it now."
"Sometimes that's what it takes. Sometimes more. It may take so much more work than you think it does to succeed at this school, but you can do it. And I'll help you. Even if we have to spend ten hours every Saturday doing math problems, we will. And if you want to meet tomorrow to do another subject, we can."
"Thanks, Rey." Shawan reached across the seat and gave her a hug before jumping out of the car.
Reyna wasn't in a rush to get home. In fact, she decided to park her car at the bottom of the Ravenel Bridge and watch the sun go down over the marsh. She started to think of someone else who loved the marsh back in Rincon, Puerto Rico. Milagros Acevedo had one of those glowing souls that, like her name implied, produced miracles. Everyone and everything flocked to her charming home where her doors were always open. When people were out of work and starving, Milagros would invite them over for a friendly meal, and then send them home with enough rice to last them through the week. When someone lost a relative in death, she would invite them to her home and they would watch the birds land and take off from her back porch. That's what she said death was, taking off into another adventure. She was like a sanctuary. Because they said her smile reminded people of the sun rising over the marsh, Milagros was nicknamed La Cienega. Even when a genetic disease caused her to go blind in her fifties, she never stopped smiling.
Growing up in Puerto Rico, Reyna knew the smiling lady everyone referred to as La Cienega but she had never spoken to her until after her mother died. It was then that Reyna thought she would never smile again. Reyna was angry at the woman for being able to find happiness in a world that had so unfairly taken away her mother.
One day, Reyna decided to ask her why she smiled all of the time.
"I guess I smile because I'm blind," she replied.
This response confused five-year-old Reyna even more than she was before.
"It's not what you see that makes you truly happy. What you see may not always be there. Oh, but how you feel never has to go away. There's nothing better than that tingly happiness that courses through your body and lands in your face causing your cheeks to rise into a smile." The woman sighed and, of course, smiled. "Because I'm blind I don't get distracted by what's really there and what's not. I get to have that feeling all the time."
La Cienega's smile was contagious. Reyna was drawn to her just like everyone else in town. Soon she spent every afternoon basking in La Cienega's wisdom about life, love and happiness. And to this day, thirteen years later, whenever she felt truly happy, she thought of it as La Cienega smiling at her.
Reyna couldn't count all the times she had felt that smile while she was with Scott. What did that mean? Reyna desperately wanted to talk to her and get her advice. Was Scott the one she was supposed to be with?
***
At ten o'clock, Reyna heard a tap on her window. Her heart skipped. She knew who it was. Who else would be knocking on her window at ten
o'clock at night? She didn't quite know how to react to his presence. She was suddenly nervous and wished she could pretend she was asleep and ignore his knocking. That wouldn't work though. He knew she never slept.
Deciding it was best to pretend like nothing happened the night before, she unlatched the window, then walked over to her desk.
"You don't have to pull a Spiderman every time you come over. My dad likes you. You can use the front door." Reyna went back to reading her medical reference book as Scott kicked off his shoes and flopped on her bed. She stole a glance at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Her heart fluttered at how absolutely gorgeous he looked. Only a real man could pull off the powder blue polo shirt he wore. The color served to bring out the sweet cerulean eyes that peeked out from messy golden brown hair. He looked so sexy a part of her wanted jump on top of him and rip off his khakis. She shuddered at the thought. What was she thinking? He was her friend. Nothing more. She turned away and tried to concentrate on her reading.
"I know, I know. It's just more fun to climb through the window. It’s kind of romantic don’t you think? Like Romeo and Juliet.”
Normally if he had said something like, she would have just written it off as a joke. But given what he’d said to her the night before, she wasn’t sure how to take it. She nervously dropped her reference book on the floor. “I hate that play,” she said, trying to cover up her anxiety. She picked up her book and turned away from Scott thankful that her dark skin would most likely cover up her blushing.
“So what's the disease of the day?" he asked.
"Fibromyalgia," she said, spinning around in her desk chair to face him. "It's a disorder, not a disease that involves pain in your muscles, ligaments, and tendons."
Scott flashed his lopsided grin. "Are you looking this up for me? Are you trying to figure out what's wrong with my shoulder?"
"Don't flatter yourself," she said as she spun away from him again so he wouldn't see that he was right. "Why are you here anyway? It's a Saturday night. Shouldn't you be out with your girlfriend?"
Scott shrugged. "I didn't really feel like going to someone's house and sitting around watching everyone get wasted." He looked on Reyna's nightstand and noticed the ball from the final out of his no-hitter last baseball season. Sam wanted to frame it and save it for when he became famous. She figured that it might be worth a few thousand dollars on eBay one day. Instead, Scott told her it was lost and then gave it to Reyna on her birthday. He picked it up and read what he wrote to her: May La Cienega smile every day of your life. "I thought we could hang tonight," he said after returning the ball to the nightstand.
Reyna closed her book and turned around. "What did you have in mind?" For some reason, that question made her acutely aware that she only wore a short flimsy nightgown and that Scott stared at her as if looking straight through it. She grabbed her robe off the foot of the bed and quickly flung it on.
"Um," he said, shaking his head probably to clear his mind of the dirty thought he was having about his best friend. "I thought we could go downtown and see a band or something."
"Can I drive your convertible?" she asked with a hopeful smile.
"No, no, no! You are the worst driver ever."
"Please, Scottie." Reyna sat next to him on the bed and folded her feet under her. She gave her best puppy dog expression while batting her eyes. "I promise I won't do more than ten over the speed limit," she added jokingly.
***
I couldn't believe I was letting her drive my precious car. Sam bought it for me after the Sports Illustrated article. It wasn't even six months old. It wasn't that Reyna was a bad driver, it's just that she whipped that little Volkswagen around in ways that you couldn’t do with a convertible Mustang. Every time she drove it, I just held my breath. I couldn’t imagine what Sam would do to me if I crashed the car. And if she found out Reyna did it, she might implode.
I went downstairs while Reyna got dressed and ran into her dad.
"Hey, Scott. How are you, son?" he said as he gave me a hug.
"I'm fine Mr. Lewis," I said, sitting down at the dining room table with him.
"Can I get you anything to eat?"
"No, we'll probably grab something downtown."
"Oh, okay. Well, don't stay out too late. I really want Reyna to get some sleep. You know how she is. She pushes herself all day long, then worries about things she can't control all night long."
"Yeah, I know." And I did know. Reyna had suffered from insomnia for years. I wondered why she couldn't find something in those medical books to cure herself.
A few minutes later, we stood in front of the Music Farm, a popular Charleston music venue that featured bands of every genre. We often went there on the weekends and sometimes even weekdays. We didn't even care what was playing. We just liked to hang out together.
"Damn, Joel's not working the door," Reyna said after scoping out the entrance.
"Can we get in without him?"
"Doubtful." She took in a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks while she evaluated the situation.
"What if I offer him an autographed copy of my SI article?"
Reyna looked at me incredulously. "Do you see that guy? White guys with dreads probably don't watch football. I bet he has no idea who you are."
"So what do you propose we do?"
"Wait here. I'll take care of it." Reyna strode confidently to the wannabe Rastafarian and struck up a conversation with him. Within seconds they were both laughing like old friends. Five minutes later she returned and said, "We're in. Let's go." She had even managed to get us wrist bands that showed we were over 21. The girl was good.
As soon as we entered, Reyna made her way to the center of the floor and started bopping around to the music. She had no idea who or what was playing, but she acted like it was her favorite song of all time. I looked around at the signs on the wall and saw that it was a band called Ryan Adams and the Cardinals.
I walked to the bar, bought a beer then leaned against the wall and watched as Reyna slowly turned into the life of the party. I loved going out with her. No matter where we were, it was always fun because of her. She didn't even care if she was the only black person in the room, which often she was. She was never uncomfortable, never out of her element.
Two songs later, she found me at the bar. "Come dance with me," she said while pulling me onto the floor. I chugged the last of my beer, then followed her. Another great thing about going out with Reyna, she never laughed at my awkward dance moves.
When the song ended, Ryan Adams bantered with the audience, and then said something that stopped both of us like the proverbial deer in headlights. "This next song is called La Cienega Just Smiled."
"What a strange coincidence," I said, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"I guess we're obligated to dance to it."
As the slow mesmerizing ballad began, I pulled her close to me and wrapped my arms around her waist. Her firm curvaceous body felt as soft and billowy as her coconut scented hair. I swayed to and fro letting everything disappear except the hauntingly beautiful music and the touch of her skin. I rested my cheek on the Puerto Rican flag scarf that pulled Reyna's hair back into a tight poof of dark brown curls and closed my eyes. I felt right, whole, complete. I didn't think about mysterious pains in my body or pleasing my tyrannical mother. I didn't worry about having to win the state championship or letting down my entire city.
I pulled away slightly then stared into the eyes of my best friend, my first kiss, the girl who had grown into a woman right before my eyes. I stared at my Reyna, who cared for me whether I was the star athlete on the field or the loser who couldn't comprehend his chemistry homework.
I gently pinched her chin between my thumb and forefinger then leaned in to kiss her. I felt like I was drowning and her lips were my only source to oxygen. A whole new world had been opened up to me and I would never let it close. In that split second, I knew Reyna Luz Lewis was the one for me. I knew I was in love with her.
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The blindingly passionate kiss seemed to last for an eternity and encompassed the song. Our lips and tongues continued the dance our bodies had begun.
When the song ended, Reyna jerked away from me, abruptly breaking the seal of our lips. She stared at me as if in shock or, perhaps, in fear. I couldn't tell. Then she ran out of the club. Being petite, she was able to navigate through the crowd more quickly than me. But I caught up with her outside as she practically ran toward my car.
"Reyna, what's wrong?" I asked, grabbing her elbow to stop her in her tracks.
"I'm not doing this, Scott." She shook her arm loose and continued her retreat to the car.
"What are you so afraid of?"
"We're friends. Why can't we just leave it as that?" She reached for the door handle. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward me.
"This is why." I leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head.
"Please, take me home, Scottie."
Chapter 9
The ride home was silent and didn't last long enough. Mt. Pleasant was only a bridge away from Charleston. I didn't want to take her home. I didn't want to let her go. I knew she would run from this and perhaps never talk about it again.
When we pulled up in front of her house, she didn't get out immediately like I thought she would. She just stared straight ahead. I decided to give it one more try. I reached out and caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into my hand.
"Reyna," I whispered before leaning in to kiss her. The passion returned in an instant. And whether she wanted it to or not, her body responded to me.
I reached my hand under her shirt and felt her warm skin. Reyna pulled away for a moment and I thought she was putting on the brakes. Instead, she whipped off her jacket and then her shirt leaving only her bra. My breath caught. This was happening. It was really happening. I followed suit and removed my shirt leaving only my bare chest pounding so heavily I thought sure she could see my heart through my flesh.
Nothing Else Matters Page 4
