by Shay Bravo
“Does money make a difference? Yes, yes, it does—sometimes it makes a great big difference when it comes to food, education, and shelter. There should be a way we as a country can make a difference in other people’s lives, but it doesn’t make you a different person. Life is never fair, Ethan. It’s a gamble, and what you choose to do with your first coins is up to you. I don’t want pity for what has or hasn’t happened to me. I want to look forward to what I can change in the future.”
Ethan blinks. “Did you take my comment and make a whole speech out of it?”
“I didn’t make a speech out of it.”
“Even if you didn’t, that was kind of hot.”
I hit his leg with my foot and he smiles, returning the light kick.
“I like that you’re . . . you.” He reaches across the table and places a hand on top of mine, the warmth of his skin sending a giddy sensation throughout my system.
“A person who takes your argument and runs wild with it so they can compliment you on your background even though you were trying to say you’re more privileged than they are?” I ask, squeezing his hand, which gets a laugh out of him.
It’s always nice to hear him do that; I never get tired of it.
“No, I like that you’re genuine—I can read every emotion on your face, I can tell when you’re angry or sad, and I could clearly see when you felt guilty for what happened. I might be an idiot for saying this, but that day you offered to help at the playground, I could feel you meant every word, Soledad.” His fingers interlace with mine. “I knew it didn’t make sense for me to trust you, but I did. I still do.”
It is hard to hear him say this because throughout all of that time I was sure he hated me, that there was no way in fresh hell that I could gain his trust. Even now, when he is sitting right across from me, I’m having a tough time believing he had any trust in me back then, and yet here we are, joining hands a few feet away from the shores of the lake that meant so much to me growing up. Maybe this is a step toward something better. Right now it doesn’t feel like a fling, and the way his eyes lock with mine tell me all I need to know about what he said. Maybe this can work out if we do make it a thing.
We haven’t said a single word since we got back inside the car. Westray is calm as we drive onto Main Street; today the businesses close a little bit early, and the twilight is settling over the mountains. On the radio indie music plays softly, the drifting sentiments left open in the park floating between us until the questions I have are too much to hold inside anymore.
“So.”
“So,” he echoes, attention still on the road.
“Are we dating?” I had made my hair into a somewhat decent side braid and play with the end of it to distract myself.
“Didn’t we go over this earlier?”
I glance out the window. There are some small shops and not a lot of traffic.
“Ethan, pull over.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
And he does, I’ll give him that. In a maneuver reminiscent of what he did earlier today to get us to the grocery store, he weaves into the right lane and enters the first parking lot available. Once he’s stopped the car, he looks at me.
“Are we dating?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Sol, we—”
“Are we in a relationship? Because I like you and what you said earlier rubbed me the wrong way. To me dating has always meant more than a date. I have to ask because if I don’t I will torment myself about it until three in the morning, and I’ll wake up late for my class, and will fail my tests, and become a failure in life.”
Ethan unbuckles his seat belt. “Come here.” He hugs me over his cup holder thingy.
“What?”
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“And you’re speaking a hundred words a second.” He pulls back to rest his forehead to mine. “Why are you so anxious about it?”
“I’m not anxious, I’m . . . wary.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like not having definite answers, and I like you.”
“I like you, too, and I don’t want to move too fast. I’m sorry if I wasn’t being clear earlier. I also don’t want you to overthink me asking you out on our first date. What if you think I’m trying to use you?”
I smile. “That sounds like something I would overthink. I also don’t want you to think I’m trying to jump in the first instance I got. I know I sort of spewed all that out but I really do want to take it slow too.”
“But if you’re okay with it . . .”
I lean forward and press my lips against his. Slowly at first, then as he kisses me back, picking up the pace, feeling the soft press of his fingers on the back of my neck.
“I’m okay with it,” I say. “But maybe we should stop kissing in your car or it’ll become a habit.”
“That’s a habit I wouldn’t mind keeping.”
He drives me home as soft music plays in the car. Our fingers are interlaced over the armrest as he drives, and we don’t say a single word the whole way. Even when he parks in front of my apartment, we simply sit in the darkness of his car. He undoes his seat belt, and as I step out onto the pavement, he rounds his vehicle and with one of the most delicate moves I’ve seen him make, puts his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on top of my head.
“We’re good, Sol,” he whispers against my hair as we sway slightly from time to time, and in that instance, as we hold each other in the early night, I believe him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Diane’s room is what I hope I can achieve one day when I no longer live with my father. Her apartment is a four bedroom that she splits with three other people I seldom meet. Her room has tapestries all over the walls, plants decorating every single corner, and fairy lights that dangle from the ceiling at such a perfect angle that I’m surprised an Instagram model hasn’t recruited her as an interior designer. It doesn’t even matter how small the square footage of her place is because of how great she uses it.
“So the answer was yes,” says Natalie.
“Pretty much,” I say.
Diane gives me a suspicious look. Natalie is sitting next to her, across from me, chin resting on her palms as she listens intently. I’ve given them a complete summary of my love life, gruesome details about my ex, my party kissing sprees, and friend with real benefits included.
“But he never said it,” Diane says.
“No, but the intent was there.” I could tell from the way his arms felt around me that he meant every single thing he said.
“The boy is clearly into you, so I guess there’s no questioning it.”
“You asked me out.” Natalie pokes Diane in the side.
“But that’s the way I am.” She combs one hand through Natalie’s hair.
“My God, you guys, get a room.” I grab my backpack from the floor. Diane’s place is close to campus and it’s nice to come here between classes sometimes. I’m somewhat surprised how little it’s changed since she started dating Natalie. It’s always nice to see when couples don’t try to change their living ways for one another, it means the connection is right.
“Sol, have you studied for the history exam?” Diane asks.
“Kinda.” The first history exam is an essay written in class. The professor will give us five questions and we have to choose three out of those to answer in essay form. They all have to do with the eras we’d covered so far, from the Civil War to the Gilded Age, as well as the reading materials we had been given. However, because of club activities and work (and laziness) I hadn’t gotten around to studying for it.
“You haven’t studied a single term have you? Have you even bought an exam booklet yet?”
“No.” I stand up and throw my backpack over my shoulder. “I am going to go buy one and study ri
ght now and won’t get distracted. When is the test again?”
“Friday, in class.”
“You see? It’s Monday, I’ve got plenty of time to prepare for a one—”
“Three.”
“Three essay questions no problem.” I blow a kiss when she gives me a disbelieving glare. “Bye, Nat, bye, Di, you guys have fun. Ima go be a good student!”
“You do that, girl, and text me later!” Diane yells as I head out.
In fact, I do go to the library and force myself to read over everything from the most recent topics to the very first ones that we went over. There’s something about the Gilded Age that feels slightly close to what we’re going through right now, what with the superrich and seemingly expanding wealth gap, the high levels of materialism in influencer culture and the massive following that lifestyle has, not to mention the cultural tension and immigration problems that were present back in those days.
Even the darkest times in America can be tinted golden.
I look down at my notes.
I’ve gone over one page.
My phone buzzes.
Anna: Surprise meeting! I need all of you guys to swing by the club at four ;)
It’s 3:27 p.m. Not even a minute after I read the message I get a call, which isn’t the greatest when you’re at the library.
“Give me a moment, I’m at the library and need to pack my things,” I hiss.
“I’m close to the library, I’ll pick you up,” Carlos replies.
He’s waiting by a small area with couches and a coffee table.
“You know what this is about?” I ask once we’re out and walking.
“Nope, it’s a surprise to me as well.”
“You’re such a liar.” I hit his shoulder with mine.
“I’m not lying. She didn’t say anything to me. You okay with Winston?”
“Yep, we’re a thing now.”
“Wow, graduated from the singles class. I’ll have to find someone else to use as my scapegoat for declining people’s advances.” Carlos and I use each other’s photo as our phone background to keep unwanted people from flirting with us. It works great.
“You can still keep my photo and call me.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course, you’re still my favorite annoying person.”
“I take pride in that.” He tugs on the end of my ponytail. “Can’t afford to lose my IHOP buddy.”
“You’re never losing that.”
We drape our arms over each other’s shoulder like we’re exiting some ’90s movie. I can’t think of ever being without Carlos by my side. Now that Ethan and I are a thing, I can only hope my friendship with Carlos isn’t something to be scared for. It was a big deal in the past with Tyler, but Ethan has seen me and Carlos hang out before, and he’s never seemed the type of guy to be intimidated by a friend. No matter what happens, it’ll still be something we can always talk about. And Diane and Natalie appear to be completely okay with me hanging out.
Friendships don’t end simply because you start dating someone.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Anna is sitting on top of the front desk in the classroom. After her blue hair washed out, she dyed it a bright mint green. It went well with the sharp bob, and the length of her hair only sharpens the appearance of her face.
Aside from Carlos and me, the other members in attendance are Ophelia, Scott, Alan, and Xiu.
“As you all know, we have midterms next week, which sucks, but I do have something for you guys to look forward to: spring break.” She jumps off the desk, pacing like a general talking to her soldiers. “We’re going on a trip.”
“Where?” Carlos asks.
Anna pivots, pointing at him. “Thank you for asking. Of course, I’m aware not everyone will be able to make it since it’s so sudden, but let’s say I have acquired a lake house in the mountains for the last weekend of spring break. It will be private, and as long as everyone pitches in for groceries, most dinners will be provided for you. It’s not mandatory but think of it as a gift to you for being members of this lovely family.”
That doesn’t sound shady at all.
“Sounds good. Do you need drivers?” Scott asks.
“Depends on how many of you guys decide to go, but we’ll cover your gas. We’d go Friday morning come back on Sunday. There’s a grill and a boat. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
A weekend to relax and not think about the crushing responsibilities of college. I suppose that’s why students go to the beach and live in a drunken stupor. To forget they have tests, essays, and the ever-looming possibility of being their family’s disappointment.
“Sounds good, I’m down.” It’s a bit surprising that I’m the first to say that, because I usually am not the first one to do so.
“That’s two of us.” Carlos puts a hand on the top of my head.
“Everyone who’s coming, please sign this form.” Anna pulls out a white sheet of paper with some hand-drawn lines from a folder on top of the desk and hands it to Ophelia. “I’ll text everyone to make sure the list is up to date. Don’t forget your regular community hours, we’ve got to make sure everyone keeps on top of that! Other than that, the meeting is done.”
The rest of the members get up and form a line to sign the form.
Scott bumps Alan out of the line, who then turns around with fists raised, ready to start a pretend fight, which they do, though it is more cute than funny. I step around them and make my way to the front of the line where Anna is standing on the other side of the desk, hands pressed over the top, her gradient nails matching the minty shade of her hair.
“I heard the good news about you and Mr. Winston.”
“From who?” I haven’t told anyone aside from my close friends, and I know neither would’ve said anything.
“A little bird told me.” She beams. “I was rooting for you guys all along, as I’m sure the other club members were.”
The ink is still drying on the sheet of paper as I move it back over to her. The ease with which she learns things has always unnerved me, but when it comes to matters about Ethan, I am more than ready to argue for him.
“What about his things?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you? I gave the key to him the same night you guys finished his initiation.” She takes the paper from me and holds it over my shoulder, allowing one of the guys behind me to take it from her. “Not that it matters anymore, right?”
“No, it doesn’t matter anymore.” I pass her the pen I used to sign my name. “I’m glad he got them back, though.”
I don’t wait for a response; instead I take my backpack from the chair it had been resting on and march out the door. Outside the club room, Carlos and Ophelia are in deep conversation that is sufficiently killed once I’ve shown my face.
“You all right, Sol?” Ophelia asks.
“I’m okay.” I push my hair out of my face. “Anna told me something I didn’t know.”
She nods. “Anna can come off as a bit intimidating when you first meet her, but she’s superchill once you get to know her. She looks out for us all here. Even when it seems like she learned something out of nowhere, there’s always a source of information.”
What Ophelia is saying makes sense, though it’s not Anna knowing about my relationship that hurt my pride but rather that Ethan didn’t mention having the key back.
Carlos drives me home and I ask him to come in and stay for dinner. After I place the frozen pizza in the oven, because I’m way too lazy to actually cook, we lie down on my bed together. Michi jumps into the middle. Sometimes I wonder if Carlos misses my old house like I do. Dad used to joke around that he’d have to make the guest room a Carlos room because of how often he used to visit when we were in public school. We used to study for classes that we didn’t even have together simply to hang out and spe
nd time in my backyard.
Carlos would joke about how he preferred my place to his because he preferred my parents to his own. While I used to tell him not to say that, I began to understand the older we got. His father was always away on work-related trips and his mom was too busy working during the day and taking classes at night to pay attention to him. They’d often fight, too, because of cultural clash, and Carlos felt stuck in the middle of a great divide.
He found some attention through parties and meeting other people, he says, like little pieces of love scattered throughout the bodies of the people he met.
“Your family feels like a home, though. The moment you see you guys together it’s like a little portrait over a fireplace,” he once said, sometime in high school. “It fits so nice and you guys get along. Not a lot of people get that, Sol.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks now, scooping up Michi in his arms.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar, you think I don’t know you like the back of my hand?”
I reach over and pet Michi’s head, feeling her purr against my hand.
“Do you want to watch The Devil Wears Prada and Legally Blonde, eat pizza, drink unhealthy amounts of soda, and ignore all of our responsibilities?”
Carlos picks up his head. “Don’t we do that last bit all the time already?”
“I’m adding the first bit, though.”
He pretends to think about it for a second before saying, “It sounds like a good plan. We can even invite Diane over, she’d like that.”
“Sounds good, but you know what’s going to happen first?”
“What?”
I take a pillow from underneath my head and try to hit him but he rolls off the bed, laughing and grabbing another pillow. Launching my body off the bed, I throw the first feathered object I find within hand distance, and immediately duck his swing at my head.
