The Resolutions

by Mia Garcia

  “What floats your boat, Lee?” David turned to her, and she wondered if there was something more in what he was asking . . . or if she just had a dirty mind. Probably that. “Jess says you like comic books.”

  “Yeah, I like comic books or graphic novels, whatever you want to call them,” she stammered. “I’m not, like, an expert.”

  “Who is?” David shrugged. “I don’t read much, but if I wanted to . . .” He paused, his eyes flicking down to Lee’s lips for a moment before quickly looking away. She hadn’t just imagined that, had she? He recovered and continued. “If I wanted to read something good, what would you recommend?”

  Recommendations Lee could do. In fact, she preferred it to actually talking about herself. Top Ten Horror Films? Check. Actually talking about her life? Not so much. She started listing them off: “Well, it’s a lot. Sandman, The Wicked + the Divine, Captain Marvel, Ms. Marvel . . . oh man . . . Saga, the new Black Panther.” She made it a point to ignore the way David was looking at her right now. “I’m missing so many now. Um, X-Men.”

  He nodded at that.

  “Storm all the way, baby,” Anna said, coming back into the conversation. “Oh, and Rogue, love a southern twang on a lady.”

  “I have a soft spot for a planet-consuming Dark Phoenix force. I feel like Jean gets a bad rap,” Derek replied.

  “I blame Scott,” Lee started. Once her nerd activated it was hard to stop. “Jean is a total commentary on how we view women’s ability to hold power. Why can’t she just be a badass and stay alive?”

  “I mean, technically you could say it’s implied in the name Phoenix that she needs to die and come back,” Anna replied.

  Lee nodded. “True, but once in a while you just want her to have a couple of good days, you know? Go out with Storm and Rogue for a ladies’ night or something.”

  That part made Anna spit out her drink. Lee laughed.

  “I can never keep the timelines straight,” Derek added.

  “No one can,” Lee said, “not that it matters, they just retcon it anyway, then pull some Cap-Hydra bullshit, then retcon it again.”

  “Exactly.” Derek nodded. “So friggin’ confusing.”

  It was nice to talk with fellow nerds. Usually when Lee went on about her opinions about comics or horror films she’d have to stop and explain to Nora that “retcon” meant adding new information to a story to reframe a current plot in comics, or how Lt. Ripley in Alien was originally written as a man’s role and what that meant for the character, or that Ororo Munroe was never meant to be a side character and that’s why they could never get her right in the X-Men movies.

  David nudged her on the shoulder, offering up his beer. Lee hesitated at first, then accepted. It would be nice to have something to look at when she wanted to avoid eye contact.

  “I hope we aren’t being too pushy?” He motioned toward his friends, who had started talking about some new game she couldn’t keep up with.

  “No, no.” Lee hoped she hadn’t said that too quickly, but she’d been pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to talk to them. “This is okay.”

  “Good. Glad.” He dropped his voice to a fake whisper. “I can’t stand these nerds, so . . .”

  “Hey!” Audra said. “Not nice, Aguedo!”

  “Agüedo, Audra, Agüedo. You pronounce the u.”

  Audra slumped. “Why couldn’t you pick an easier name?”

  “Blame the ancestors.” David shrugged.

  “Everyone else can pronounce it, Audra,” Anna teased.

  “Really?” Audra challenged.

  “Agüedo,” Anna said, a slight bump as she reached the u, like her tongue wanted to skip over it but knew better.

  David was smiling into his beer when everyone turned to her.

  Oh.

  Her heart skipped, and cold pierced her skin. Which was odd because her tongue knew how to shape the sounds to pronounce her best friend’s last name. It did, really, but what if it chose now to stumble?

  It hurt that sometimes her Spanish came with a doubt. Was that the word? Was that how you said it? Was it? She sipped the ice-cold beer and cleared her throat. “Agüedo,” she finally said, trying to hold on to the name, to check it back and forth for defects.

  “See?” Anna said. “Not so hard.”

  “No fair.” Audra huffed, the cold picked up her breath, taking it up and out. “You guys know my tongue doesn’t do what I want.”

  “Your tongue is perfect, babe.” Derek leaned in for a kiss.

  “Gross.” Anna rolled her eyes. “PDA on your own time. Not sacred friend time.”

  Lee smiled to herself. Her tongue had not let her down.

  She took a sip of the beer as a text came in from Jess. Perfect timing. She gave David back his beer and excused herself to find Jess.

  Nora

  NORA WAS IN the middle of it all, teaching the white people how to dance to reggaeton. It wasn’t her favorite music, but her mom liked to blast some Wisin y Yandel whenever a bout of spring-cleaning hit, so dance parties always followed. You’d think her mom would be embarrassed to teach her kid how to grind, but it’s super hard not to let the beat take you away.

  She felt Beth’s arms around her waist and leaned back as the song turned from the repeating thump to a quicker beat. She turned, she and Beth raising their hands at the same time as they hopped up and down. Nora tossed her hair back, the curls going everywhere, expanding, sucking up the volume in the air. She would need multiple hair ties to pull it back after this. Beth was effervescent, her smile bright as she leaned in and out of Nora’s embrace. Whatever worries Nora’s body still clung to after a long day at La Islita eased and melted with each beat. Louder, she wanted to yell till each thump of the music drowned out her thoughts, drowned out the memory of the day.

  Her hands could still feel the weight of the caldero in her hands, the resistance of the thick platano soup that she’d stirred all damn day—she needed to get rid of that memory. She reached out for Beth, holding strands of her hair along her fingertips, relishing the feel of them.

  Remember that, she told her hands. She had always made herself pause to savor a moment with Beth since their first kiss.

  They’d met through Jess in a way—both runners on the same team. Beth was one of the best, and Nora loved to watch her run, her long legs as commanding on the track as when they wrapped themselves around Nora. She’d come into La Islita almost every day for a cafecito or pastry at the beginning, and Nora had such a crush on her. It was one of Nora’s favorite parts of the day to see Beth’s smiling face at La Islita. She’d thought it was the coffee and sweets that lured her in each time; after all, Beth had said she couldn’t resist them, but it was Lee who figured it out.

  “She’s totally flirting with you!” Lee said after each of Beth’s visits, until finally Nora was brave enough to make a move. The next time Beth asked her what she recommended that day, Nora said, “Me.”

  They’d shared a first kiss on the longest workday ever. Nora had had to cancel their date, and instead Beth showed up to help her close and walked her home. She still remembered the way Beth had shuffled her feet before stepping forward and bringing their lips together.

  Remember all of that . . .

  Nora pulled Beth toward her, her heart beating against her chest, a sheen of sweat on her face.

  They reached for each other, lips colliding in an explosion of warmth, of a thousand fireworks. Beth was her warm sunny day in the winter. Nora’s other hand was at Beth’s back, itching to lift her shirt and touch the skin underneath. When Beth pulled away her cheeks were pink. “We aren’t alone, you know.”

  She gave Beth her best puppy dog eyes. “Everyone else is making out too.”

  Around them their classmates danced, each in their own world of hips, bodies, lips, and beat.

  “Still.” Beth gave her a quick peck.

  “Okay, okay,” Nora said, the music picking up again. “One more dance and we’ll find everyone.”


  Beth nodded as Nora leaned in for a kiss, teasing Beth’s bottom lip.

  The beat slipped around their bodies and they obeyed.

  Lee: What’s his name again?

  Ryan: Blake.

  Nora: Blake of the nice ass.

  Ryan: How do you know he has a nice ass?

  Nora: Beth and I can spot a nice ass from miles away.

  Lee: And he knew you BJ?

  Ryan: BJ?

  Lee: Before Jason . . .

  Jess: We aren’t using that.

  Lee: Boo.

  Ryan: Yeah no. And he didn’t know me, just recognized my photo.

  Jess: More importantly, how was the kiss?

  Ryan: Fine.

  Lee: Stop. You’re killing me with the details.

  Nora: TELL US.

  Ryan: FINE. It was . . . good. Happy? Sheesh. It was nice, and he was a good kisser. So was I.

  Nora: Yes you are!

  Ryan: MORE IMPORTANTLY, one resolution down! Does that mean I’m winning?

  Jess: Not a competition.

  Ryan: . . . So yes?

  Nora: No.

  Ryan: Taking that as a yes. ALSO, turns out the art class he mentioned is still taking students, so I’m on my way to resolution 2! Jealous?

  Nora: A bit.

  Lee: You’ll figure it out, Nora. We promise. Right, Madam President?

  Jess: Very funny. At least the party was fruitful for Ryan.

  Lee: It wasn’t a bad party.

  Jess: It was fine—I guess it wasn’t for me.

  Ryan: Wait, Lee thought the party wasn’t bad? Who are you, and what have you done with Lee?

  Lee: There is no Lee, only Zuul.

  SHE’D HIGHLIGHTED THE entire page of the SAT workbook.

  The entire page.

  Across from her Beth studied her own workbook, oblivious to the blatant waste of highlighter ink. Nora quickly turned to a random page and vowed to study the contents instead of just highlighting words to pass the time.

  The library was especially quiet today. Usually there were one or two groups talking in whispers, but this time all her classmates seemed to realize what loomed just months away because everyone around her had their noses stuck in a similar workbook.

  Nora should be studying. The SATs weren’t going to take themselves, and according to Jess it was better to stagger the prep rather than cram the week before like Nora had wanted to. Still, as soon as Nora turned to the problems on the page her mind glazed over, unable to keep much of anything in except for one recurring thing.

  Her resolutions. One in particular.

  “What would you choose?” Nora whispered to Beth across the table.

  Beth looked up from her workbook. “Hmm?”

  “If you had to choose your own adventure—what would you do?”

  “It’s your resolution, not mine.”

  “I know. I just want to know.” So I can steal it, Nora thought for just a second. Beth scrunched her nose as she thought.

  “I would travel,” she finally said, the start of a grin on her face. “Or I would ride a motorcycle. Or . . . I would steal you away more often.”

  “Steal me for what?”

  “Wicked things.” Beth touched the tip of Nora’s lips, lingering on them long enough for a flush to travel up Nora’s neck.

  Under the table their shoes touched, pressing against each other.

  After a moment of watching Nora’s cheeks get pinker, Beth said, “You already know it, you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “What your adventure is.”

  Nora looked down at the test questions. Her resolution might as well be one of them for as much as she knew the answer to it. “Doesn’t feel like it . . .”

  Still Beth nodded. “It’s in here.” She touched Nora’s temple, brushing her fingers down her neck to her chest above her heart. “And here. Everything else is just too loud. Eventually you’ll hear it, it’ll be the loudest thing in there.”

  A hand slammed against the table making them both jump.

  “Shh!” the librarian said in the loudest whisper ever.

  “Sorry,” Nora mouthed, but Beth stared back at the librarian with a simple smile on her face.

  Nora spent the rest of the study period trying to listen, to hear the answer, but all she got was the steady beat of her heart and the shuffle of passing pages.

  Not loud enough yet.

  Lee

  THE DAY HAD cleared up at least, but the grass was still wet from the rain the night before. Or was it the morning dew soaking Lee’s shoes?

  “Just in time,” her father said, looking up at the sky. The sun hid behind giant clouds of white.

  “April showers,” Auntie Rose said, turning to give Lee a soft smile.

  Lee nodded, following Rose and her father down the rows of plaques and tombstones of Columbia Gardens Cemetery, the orange tulips shaking their heads as she walked. She read the names as she passed: Douglas. Anderson. Buchanan. The closer they got to her mother’s grave the more familiar the names were. Lee didn’t think she would remember that Richard Addams died in 1985, but she must have stored that information somewhere. She nodded to Richard’s stone as she passed.

  “Well then.” Her father took a deep breath. Lee took a moment before looking up. She knew where she was. Between Angela Rowe and Eugenia Moore at Paula Maria Perez-Carter’s grave.

  “Hola, Mami,” she whispered, watching her father place a hand on the granite, dusting off dried leaves stuck on the stone. Her aunt came up to help before taking a step back, giving her brother room. He turned to Lee, reaching out a hand. It took Lee a moment to realize he wanted the potted tulips she’d carried all the way here.

  They always brought potted flowers, not cut ones. Flowers that would continue to grow long after they left. One time her cousin told her they threw those pots in the garbage after the visitors left but she was sure he was being cruel when her aunt wasn’t watching. Cameron barely knew anything at all, so how would he know the ins and outs of cemetery business? Lee liked to imagine that the caretaker would gather all the potted plants and dried flowers, taking them off into a big field to plant. There they would flourish, wild and free, in whatever patch of earth they found.

  Maybe her mother could see that field from wherever she was.

  He placed the tulips by her headstone, his long robin’s-egg-blue tie flapping forward as he did. It had tiny Easter eggs on it too, but you had to be pretty close to see them. “Happy birthday, amor.”

  Lee’s father didn’t speak much Spanish, and most of the words he knew were endearments he’d learned from her mother. He rarely spoke them except here.

  Her auntie Rose took another step back, extending her hand to Lee. They would give her father time alone, then it would be Lee’s turn. Together they walked back through the path; not that far off in the distance Lee recognized the tree she’d sat below time and time again. She sat beneath it.

  “The ground is dry,” she said to her aunt, waving her over.

  “Surprised they haven’t put a bench here yet,” Auntie Rose said as she sat down. “Seems like the perfect place for one.”

  Lee supposed so. From where they sat they had a good view of the rest of the cemetery. Above them the leaves still carried the day’s rain, and gentle drops peppered the ground around them.

  Her father leaned down by the grave until he almost disappeared behind her mother’s tombstone. What was he saying? What did he ever say?

  She imagined he spoke about the time passed and maybe even updated her on the last year like she’d just gone on vacation. You would’ve been forty-six today, he would say. Happy birthday.

  Lee shook off a shiver that came with a thick drop from above. Her cousins always asked why they came on her mother’s birthday and not the anniversary of her death. Because, Lee always said with a shrug, but she could never finish the sentence.

  “Because it’s better,” her father had said once. It was better to remember her on this da
y, but Lee still didn’t understand.

  Her aunt held her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze every now and again. A reminder she wasn’t alone. It made Lee slightly anxious, like she should be thinking about what to say to her mother. They’d come all this way.

  When she tried to pull out the words, all that came were strangled cries. Her mind was not a blank—she wished it was—instead it was a mess, nothing coming forward as a single thought.

  “Lee.” Her father hovered above her, his hand ready to help her up.

  She looked up, up, up to his face, the crinkle in his eyes. She placed her hands in his and let him tug her up until she was folded into one of his classic hugs.

  When he released, she knew it was her time to walk over to her mother. She still didn’t know what to say. The wind picked up around her almost like it was pushing her toward the grave. Behind her, her father took her place below the tree.

  A faint trace of water soaked into her tights as she knelt down.

  “Hi,” she said, already disappointed in herself. “I don’t know what to say.”

  The tulips bent with each gust of wind. Lee watched, realizing she was avoiding her mother’s name on the stone as if it were her mother’s eyes.

  “I’m taking out my braids.” She tugged at her hair, wrapping a braid around her finger before dropping it. What a silly thing to talk about, but it was the closest thing her mind could latch onto. “It’s time, and since I’m here with Auntie Rose . . .”

  She let out a breath. Here with Auntie Rose. As if she was here for nothing else. Just a visit. All her mind wanted to scream was: I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. Why did you leave? Why did it take you? Will it take me?

  “I found my notebook yesterday,” she started, searching for her next sentence. “‘Found’ sounds like I’d lost it, except that it’s been in the same box for the last three years, but yeah. I found it.”

  Lee sank back down on her feet. “It’s blank. I know what should be on it—what was supposed to be on it. I remember getting it”—she took a breath—“the therapist wanted me to write out my feelings. I never did.” The rain had soaked into the granite, making her mother’s name stand out much more. “I never did. I’m sorry. I was supposed to write you, but every time I tried all that came out was . . . it wasn’t nice.”