by Mia Garcia
And on the afternoon went. Nora finished her chapter, and as she closed the book, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Doña Rodríguez leaned across the counter with her empty coffee cup.
“Si no te molesta,” she motioned to the cup. “I think today is a two-cup day.”
Nora smiled and reached for the cup and saucer, placing it in the bin and grabbing a clean set.
“Was it good?” Doña Rodríguez asked, pointing at the book.
Nora shrugged. “It was okay.” The truth was she barely remembered any of it, the result of reading it in twenty-minute intervals over the course of the week.
Doña Rodríguez nodded, reading the back of the book. “There’s sugar in some of the pages.”
“Oh.” Nora laughed. “That’s normal for me. I take La Islita with me everywhere.”
Doña Rodríguez chuckled. “A good place to take with you.”
Nora heated the milk and dropped a tablespoon of brown sugar in the cup before pouring the café over it.
“How is school?”
Nora shrugged. “School is school.”
“You’re a senior, aren’t you?”
“Junior.” She waited until the sugar dissolved a bit, then poured the milk in.
“Ah, gracias.” Doña Rodríguez smiled as Nora passed her the steaming cup. “Are you excited for your senior year?”
“Slightly more excited for the summer.” Nora tucked the book away and leaned across the counter. Summer meant she didn’t have to worry about balancing school, La Islita, and friends. Just the last two.
“Claro.” Doña Rodríguez sat back at the table, which now included the daily newspaper open across it—should anyone try and share the table with her. “That’s only a few months away, so it’s not far.”
Not far indeed. Sometimes it felt like days passed by in a series of cafecitos and baked desserts.
“And any plans after that?”
“Plans?”
“College?”
“Oh,” Nora said. “Yes, there’s a plan.”
Doña Rodríguez nodded, taking a sip of her café, clearly waiting for Nora to continue. Sometimes Nora forgot how nosy she could get and how good she was at pulling secrets out of people. Whatever you told her, you had to be fine with being public knowledge days later. It was how the entire neighborhood (including her ex-boyfriend) had found out Nora was bisexual about two days after her mother did.
“Uh, well.” Nora sighed. She could already hear her mother telling her to be nice to her elders. “It’s not that interesting. My mom and I talked about it and figured that once I graduated I could go to school part-time at a local college. That way it wouldn’t interfere with my work at La Islita, which can get a bit overwhelming. I’m not sure what classes or subject I would study yet, most likely business, but I’m not worried about it.”
They’d also spoken about not going to college and simply working at La Islita full-time—after all, it wouldn’t be long before she’d manage everything herself. But Nora convinced her mother it might be useful to take some business courses for the future of La Islita. So at least now she’d have the semblance of a life until after college.
“Well, you seem to have things figured out.”
It did read that way, didn’t it? Her postgraduation plans and her career at La Islita were squares on a board game with just one path. There was nowhere else to go, was there?
“NORA!” RYAN PULLED out the A in her name, smiling as he said it, until Nora smiled too. Since the New Year’s Eve party weeks ago, Ryan had made an effort to unslump himself and reach out more often. It was his idea to visit her today.
Next to him, Beth leaned over the counter and waited for a hello kiss. It was quick and sweet. Nora clung to her smile as they separated, then wondered if her mother would consider PDA unprofessional as well.
Behind them Lee and Jess had snagged Doña Rodríguez’s empty table.
“How’s it going?” Ryan asked.
“Going.”
“Freedom still at six?”
“Sí. Movie still at eight?”
“Yep,” Ryan said. “Figure we can pop in for some pre-movie burgers at the diner.”
Yes. Pre-movie food was good, and food made by someone else was always preferable.
“Sounds good.” Nora rested her hand on top of Beth’s before Ryan nudged her out of the way.
“Not to be rude,” he said, “but you’re going to need that hand to make me a cafecito and grab Jess a Malta, gracias.”
Nora gave Beth another kiss before flipping Ryan off.
“Did you hear about the party?” Beth said as Nora prepared the coffees. Lee hadn’t asked for one, but it was just a matter of time. No one could resist the smell of La Islita’s café.
“Tonight?” A party would be good. Loud music. Beth in a dark corner, her smile, her lips. Yes, a party would be good.
“No, end of March, I think. Beth is throwing it. I mean, Liz,” Beth said.
“Why did she change her name again?” Nora said, passing the first cafecito over to Ryan, who passed it to Lee.
“On account of there being, like, five Beths in our class,” Jess said from the table. “Our Beth is the best, of course.”
“Thank you,” Beth said with a smile. “It’s a bonfire. It’s supposed to be end-of-winter themed but like in March.”
“Pretty sure that’s called spring,” Ryan replied.
“That already sounds amazing. We’re going,” Nora said with a smile. It would be the perfect thing to look forward to.
“All of us?” Lee sipped her café. “Why is this a group decision?”
“Lee, you know you get one party veto a semester,” Ryan reminded her. “Do you really want to use it now?”
“Ugh, fine,” Lee grumbled. “I’ll bring a book.”
“Do not bring a book!” Ryan shouted. “Parties are for mingling, or so I’m told.”
Nora giggled and remembered the party freshman year when Ryan spent the entire time sketching random strangers and not interacting with anyone at all.
When the time came to finally close the café, Nora linked arms with Beth and headed out into the night. After dinner they bought tickets for a high school comedy starring people in their twenties pretending to be eighteen. It was the summer after senior year, and the main character had no idea what she was doing in the fall—let alone the rest of her future.
Nora thought back to the conversation with Doña Rodríguez and wondered what that could possibly feel like. Nora’s future was simply waiting for her to get there. What would happen if she didn’t? If she changed course in the middle of the path?
The audience erupted in laughter at a joke she’d missed, and Beth giggled and leaned her head against Nora’s shoulder. She pushed any thoughts about the future away.
Jess
JESS WAS TIRED, but she rallied. It had been a long week at school, including covering for the student aide at the front office who was sick with the flu. It wasn’t much, just helping with filing and photocopying.
Another yes for the resolution, and not bad overall.
She yawned but caught herself, slapping on a smile as they walked into Liz’s backyard for the end-of-winter party. People had clustered off into groups surrounding the crackling fire pit and the keg. The brisk night air was perfectly accented by the strung-up fairy lights along the trees. The music was blaring from somewhere in the distance, and Nora was already bumping her hip against Beth.
“Drinks?” Ryan asked. They all nodded. “Cool, let’s go snag some.”
They turned to head for the keg, but Nora and Beth broke away and beelined for the group of people dancing. Nora had been looking forward to dancing away every exhausting hour of La Islita, so Jess wasn’t surprised she headed straight to it. How Nora managed to have any energy at all impressed her.
“What was that, like, five minutes before she abandoned us for the dance floor? A new record, I think,” Lee said. “I’ll scope out a place to sit
while you two grab drinks.”
Jess and Ryan were weaving into the crowd toward the keg when Liz stepped in front of Jess, separating her from Ryan.
“JESS!” Liz was all smiles and bear hugs, which meant she had already visited the keg at least once. Jess couldn’t help but smile back; Liz after one beer could brighten even the grumpiest of people. Jess always left their chats feeling like she could conquer the world.
“Hey, Liz.” Jess pulled away from the hug, and strands of Liz’s hair clung to her lip gloss. Behind them Ryan slowly tiptoed away, motioning in the direction of the keg. Jess nodded to let him know she was fine with being abandoned; uplifting Liz conversations tended to run long. Liz squeezed her shoulder.
“It’s so good to see you.”
Jess smiled. “Liz, you saw me this morning at school.”
They were in most of the same classes and usually ended up partnered up because their last names both started with A.
“Right—duh.” She giggled. “I’m just really happy you came.”
Jess lost sight of Ryan in the crowd gathering by the keg and some guy’s particularly broad shoulders. Meanwhile Liz had not stopped talking and Jess had no idea what she’d been talking about, so she did the only thing she could: smile and say “totally” as often as needed.
“So I figured why not, you know?” Liz said.
“Totally.”
Liz squealed. “I’m so glad you agree, like, I really respect your opinion.”
On what she had no idea, but it was lovely to hear. Liz was the kind of person who seemed to like everyone, which in turn made everyone like her. Including Jess.
“Thanks.”
“I’m thinking I won’t have as stiff competition for vice president of the Student Council, but you never know. Plus, if you believe in me I can totally do it!”
“Yeah—you can totally do it.” Jess turned, hoping this would be the perfect time to exit the conversation. “I should go help Ryan.” She’d almost succeeded when Liz snagged Jess’s hand and pulled her back.
“Oh my God! I just thought of something!”
“Yeah?”
“You should run for president! YES, you would be perfect! You are, like, made to run for office one day.”
“Oh, hmm.”
Jess had thought about it before—in fact, during her freshman year, she vowed she’d run for Student Council president in two years. But now it felt like a bigger commitment; it would be a lot more time spent at school, and though it was good for college applications, she’d read in a college-prep blog that it wasn’t as important anymore, which meant it would take away from things that would help her.
“I don’t know, Liz.” She really needed to get out of here.
“Nooooo,” Liz continued, being a bit more forceful than Jess was anticipating. Insistent-Liz usually happened around beer two or three, so Jess had been off from the beginning. “Please, you have to. YOU HAVE TO. You would be so good at it, Jess. It’s like you’re made for it. And of course with me as your VP, we could actually make a difference.”
Everyone said that. No one actually made a difference.
If Jess were president she’d love to introduce more diverse volunteering programs at the school, but, again, not something she had time for.
“Please say yes.”
Jess squirmed—did this count as something she had to say yes to? It probably did. It had been something she was thinking about and it was far away.
She wouldn’t need to deal with it until senior year. Plus, she’d just need to run. There was no guarantee she’d win.
“Okay. Yes.”
A few minutes later, Jess was still recovering from the high-pitched squeal that had come out of Liz’s mouth. It had possibly shattered her eardrums. She saw Ryan talking to the broad-shouldered guy while in line for the keg and decided to leave him there while she looked for Lee. She spotted her just as David did—and before Jess could call out, Lee was helping him with his drinks and heading out into the darkness behind Liz’s house.
Great.
She could stand around and wait for Lee to get back. Jess doubted it would take that long to help David carry drinks.
“Damn, girl, you’re tall.” Jess didn’t turn to see who’d said it, not that it mattered. She’d heard that stuff before. “I’d let you wrap those legs around me any day.”
She’d heard that before too. Time to move. She walked away, weaving through classmates and trying to shrug off the male laughter that had followed the commentary.
She thought back to her second yes of the resolutions and all that would come of it. More work, but she could handle it. Wasn’t she supposed to be putting herself out there more, after all? And what of the other resolutions? Would they really help?
They hadn’t really talked about it much, aside from the occasional joke and acknowledgment that the resolutions existed. What if it failed and this was just a horrible idea that wouldn’t help their friendship at all? Maybe she shouldn’t have convinced them to do this in the first place.
Ugh. Her mind was not being helpful.
What she needed now was to sit with her friends and just enjoy the night. Since Lee had left they needed a new spot to sit, so she decided to scope out the party instead. She sent a group text that she was looking for a new place to sit and that Lee should meet Ryan by the keg to help him with the drinks.
With that she looped around, searching for free couch space or walls to lean by. She smiled and said hello to classmates, and each time the conversations were the same. Could she believe that test on Tuesday? Had she started thinking about schools? Was she freaking out that the SATs were so close?
After the third surface conversation like this, Jess started to feel a bit unsettled. Was this all her classmates thought of her? Test and scholarships and SATs? The resolutions themselves were supposed to loosen her up, right? Did everyone think she needed to loosen up? Her thoughts were a mess in her head, and her muscles felt like they needed to move, to run.
The dark behind the house looked inviting. Liz’s house was set on five acres of land, and if Jess walked out far enough, she could be alone. She pushed through her classmates until the music was just a far-off echo, the lights from the house casting a dim glow over the grass.
When she took a breath she was startled by her own heartbeat. How did it get so fast? She glanced back at the party and inched farther away; with each step it felt like she could breathe a bit better.
When she was far enough she searched for her favorite constellation: Orion’s belt. She liked it the best because of how well she could find it on a clear night. “There you are,” she whispered, her mind hers again.
Ryan
RYAN’S DUMB EYES kept zeroing in on every damn couple in the place, no matter how hard he tried. It not only made him think of Jason, but also the resolutions. Maybe they were meant to be inspiring, but right now, they were just annoying.
There was another couple making out under a nearby tree. Did they think no one could see them, or did they just not care? His body ached, remembering what it felt like to be so consumed by someone that the rest of the world disappeared.
He hated how quickly his mind turned back to how it felt to have Jason’s hands running down his back. How easily he gave away his smiles, like they were just as easy as breathing. Ryan’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket. Earlier he’d untapped a like on one of Jason’s Instagram photos. He didn’t want to look too eager—but now he was wondering if the unliking would say more than the actual liking?
He really should have unfollowed Jason a couple months ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every time he almost bit the bullet, a new picture popped up like the one he saw today. Jason looked so cute, even though the flash had bleached out his face. He was wearing the shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. If Ryan had to justify it, he’d say he just liked the composition of the photo and not Jason at all.
A lie, of course, but he’d still say that.
Ryan took out his phone, going back over the photo, noticing the blur of faces in the background. The caption read: Michael throws the best parties! Happy to be back with my best people!!!
He rolled his shoulders. Don’t you DARE relike this, he told himself sternly. Taking another look at his surroundings, he flipped his phone camera into selfie mode and waited until his face came into focus. Behind him dozens of bodies were dancing, drinking, laughing. The top of someone’s purple-dyed hair stuck out over Ryan’s head. He snapped the picture, messing with the colors until it felt like the breath of a flash, the memory of colors. He posted it with the caption: New Party. New Year. New Me.
He waited a minute before tucking his phone back in his pocket. No, he wasn’t going to spend the entire party waiting for Jason to like it. And only three people to go before he got to the keg.
There was a tap on his shoulder.
“How’d I look?”
Ryan turned around and found himself staring at a pair of brown eyes that could pass for black, but for the slightest hint of umber.
“Excuse me?”
“In the photo,” the guy said, then motioned to his hair, faded at the sides and long in the middle but styled back. It made Ryan miss his own hair. “Did I look okay?”
“Oh . . .” Ryan shrugged. “I think I only got your hair.”
“Of course.” The guy smiled. “It doesn’t like to be ignored.”
“Your hair is sentient?” Ryan looked up at the strands of dark purple.
“Feels like it sometimes.” He paused, taking a moment to look at Ryan a bit closer. “My name’s Blake. I figure we should get to know each other since we’ll be in this line for at least a year.”
Checking the line again, Ryan realized that somehow three new people had cut in front of him. And now Karen from Bio was trying to fill at least eight cups.
“What the fuck?” Ryan said out loud. “Where the hell did they come from?”
Blake was still talking. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Smooth.” Ryan rolled his eyes and went back to watching the line.
“I swear,” Blake continued. “You just look familiar.”
