The Universal Laws of Marco

by Carmen Rodrigues

  Jade blushes and wraps her arm around his neck. She plants a kiss on his lips, quick though, because as she said earlier, “I’m still scarred by that damn Care Bear test in middle school.”

  We sit, filling up only half the table. A few minutes later Sookie shows up with a guy, who smiles broadly. “So, you guys know Ari!” Sookie announces brightly.

  Jade leans in to whisper, “She did not mention this to me last night!”

  Sookie sighs, reading Jade’s mind or her lips. “We just decided to come together last night. I don’t have to tell you guys everything.”

  “Nope, you don’t, Sooks!” Diego agrees. “But damn if you always do.”

  “Hey!” Sookie says, and glances shyly at Ari. “I don’t tell them everything.”

  “Sooks, you so chatty, I know if you’re backed u—”

  “Backed?” Ari says, smiling like he’s confused.

  “Diego!” Sookie hisses.

  “Just saying. Prunes. That’s all it takes. A handful a day.”

  Jade busts out laughing, and Erika covers her mouth and lets out one long snort.

  Sookie narrows her eyes and turns to Ari. “Want to get a drink?”

  “Sure,” Ari says, all grins.

  “What?” Diego asks when Sookie leaves. “I’m like her big bro. It’s my job to embarrass her.” He claps his hands together. “But, man, I like that kid Ari. Who says you can’t give someone another shot?”

  I glance at Erika; her smile has slipped. I remember the last time we talked about Ari and second chances. This time I squeeze her hand, but she doesn’t squeeze back.

  Diego points to two extra chairs at our table. “Better move ’em or we gonna have some randos tryin’ to sit with us, and we’ll have to be all, You can’t touch this.”

  Jade laughs. “Hey! Stragglers need friends too.”

  “Girl. You. Can’t. Touch. This.” He scans the crowd, looking for a taker. “Lil,” he calls out. “Do you need a chair?”

  “Yeah, thanks!” she says, and carts it off.

  Another kid approaches for the last chair, but Sookie returns with a soda in one hand and Ari’s palm in the other, and says, “Sorry, Kendrick. We need that.”

  “For who?” Erika asks.

  “Sally,” Sookie says brightly. “I told her she should sit with us.”

  “She’s coming?” Erika glances at me accusingly.

  “I thought she wasn’t sure?” Jade looks at me. “We hung out with her last night. She wanted to talk about . . . stuff. You know, catch up on all that we missed . . . when she was . . . away.”

  Erika’s lips press flat now. “When she ghosted?”

  “You don’t know the story,” Sookie pushes back.

  “But that’s it. It is a story,” Erika retorts, and Sookie narrows her eyes.

  “Dude,” Diego says to Erika. “Lay off Sooks.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Sals is sitting with us,” Diego snaps. “Drop it already.”

  Erika gives me a look like, Aren’t you going to defend me? When I don’t, because I think Sookie is right, she takes out her phone and starts texting.

  A few pings later, she announces, “Gabby and Manny are on the other side. I’m gonna sit with them for a bit.”

  “A bit?” I say.

  “Yep, a bit.” Her voice is cold.

  “Just let her go,” Diego says, when I make like I’m gonna follow. “That girl is the definition of FOMO-OM.”

  “FOMO-OM?” Jade repeats, the last syllable stressed like a Buddhist chant.

  “Yeah, fear of missing out on Marco.”

  The whole table laughs, Diego the hardest. “And is she still trying to make you jealous with that Manny shiz?”

  “D, drop it.”

  “What? It’s true. She’s like . . .” He pauses, his mouth falling open.

  I twist in my seat to see what he sees: Sally, cutting across the dance floor. No, make that striding. She wears an emerald-green dress that catches every bit of light as she passes beneath the chandeliers. Her hair, back to its original blond, seems to catch the light too.

  “Damn,” Diego says, and Jade nudges him with her elbow, but then she also adds, “She does look good.”

  Sookie smiles. “I sent her the link to that dress and helped her dye her hair.”

  “Well, babe,” says Ari, “you’ve got great taste in dresses.”

  “Did he just call Sooks ‘babe’?” Diego whispers.

  Sookie stands, glaring at Diego. “You act like I’m asexual or something.”

  Diego shrugs. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  And then Sally is upon us. She smiles brightly. “Asexual is when someone lacks sexual desire or attraction. And that”—she looks at Sookie—“would be the opposite of you.”

  “Look at Sals, coming up here all savage,” Diego says admiringly.

  “If you’re lucky,” Sally says brightly, “I might even interpret some dreams for you later.”

  “Guess who’s back, back again . . . ,” Diego sings.

  “You look gorgeous,” Sookie says.

  “Yeah,” Jade agrees.

  And it’s true. Sally does look beautiful.

  Sally, who, for what it’s worth, maybe still loves me.

  Sally smiles her way around the table. When our eyes meet, her gaze lingers for a second, and then she sits in the empty chair between Sookie and Jade.

  “Did they serve dinner yet?” Sally asks.

  “Nope,” Sookie says.

  “Wait. All this fancy comes with a dinner, too?” Diego asks.

  “See?” Jade says. “Every time you wouldn’t come to a dance with me, see what you were missing?”

  “Girl, all you had to do was tell me about the meal.” Diego nods to someone coming up behind me. I turn around to see Erika headed our way. Her eyes are on mine. She’s got a fake smile on her lips.

  “Hey,” she says when she takes the seat beside me. “What I’d miss?”

  “Not much.”

  “Hi,” Sally says, and Erika gives her a stiff nod. Diego rolls his eyes.

  A second later the waiters appear, setting down muffins and warm bread and pouring water into our glasses. “Warm muffins too! Man, today is like some fairy tale,” Diego says. “This and Grendel’s.”

  “Wait!” Sookie claps her hands together. “Did you get the job?”

  “Oh, yes, he did!” Jade says. “And they’re giving him a scholarship to go to college!”

  Sookie looks at me, her eyes wide with concern. “Are you bummed out, Marco? About not getting it?”

  Erika’s butter knife falls with a clang against her plate. “What?”

  I glance at her—that familiar disappointment in her eyes. “Mr. Grendel asked me again to interview for it.”

  “And you did?”

  “Yeah, but not because I wanted it. Because it was the only way he’d give me a raise. . . .”

  “And,” Diego says, “Mr. Grendel also gave Marco a five-thousand-dollar scholarship for cost of living and stuff. He just has to work every summer and long break at the store.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome—” Sookie begins, but Erika cuts her off with, “Every summer and long break?”

  “That’s really cool, right?” Jade says, trying to silver-line the exchange. “Summer job security?”

  “And you said yes?” Erika says. “You didn’t even talk to me.”

  Diego sighs. “Seriously?”

  “Diego,” Erika snaps. “Can you just not?”

  “Can he just not what?” Jade hisses.

  Sookie says, “Can we all not?”

  “It’s her,” Jade protests. “With the texting and the faces and the drama.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?” Erika pushes, ignoring everyone but me.

  “Maybe,” says Sally slowly, “he didn’t want to.”

  Erika freezes. A silence falls across the table. Erika looks at Sally, then me. “Did you tell her?”

 
; “No. I didn’t.” I take a deep breath and whisper, “Can we just make it through tonight without fighting?” But Erika doesn’t answer. She keeps her eyes on her hands, balled up in her lap. I look around the table. “Can we be done with this?”

  “Done,” Diego says.

  Waiters in white suits appear. Diego lifts his fork and knife in anticipation. “Whatever you don’t want, I call first dibs.”

  We all laugh, grateful to move on.

  Well, everyone except Erika, who only lifts her eyes. She doesn’t speak again until twenty minutes later, when Sookie raises her water glass to toast “endings and beginnings.”

  “To endings and beginnings,” we all say, even Erika, her voice a little sad.

  • • •

  A few hours later, after a series of whispered negotiations and apologies, Erika and I are on the dance floor, swaying our bodies to a slow song. She’s got her head on my shoulder when she says, “Do you remember how I asked you to the eighth-grade dance?”

  “Yeah?” I take a deep breath, afraid of where this is going.

  “Well, you liked Sally back then, remember? Not me.” She pauses. “What do you think would have happened if Sally hadn’t left? If your dad hadn’t gone to the hospital?”

  “How can anyone know?” I ask quietly.

  “Maybe we wouldn’t have happened,” Erika says.

  I think about back then, how Erika had stopped by my house about a week after we ran into each other at the hospital. She said it was to bring me an extra casserole that had been left over from her grandma’s memorial service. She came by several more times after that. Always showing up unannounced, always bringing a little something for the family to eat. Always asking about my dad, picking on my brothers, mostly because she knew that made me laugh. That was the start of our friendship.

  And I know that we aren’t perfect. But we’ve been there for each other. Maybe that’s why I whisper into her ear, “Erika, no matter what, I’m glad we’re here together.”

  She pulls back to look into my eyes. “No matter what?”

  And I realize what I’ve said. How it sounds. “I just mean, I know that it’s been hard lately for us. But you’ve been important to me. . . .”

  “Been important?”

  “Are important.”

  “Or maybe it really is been?” She swallows hard. “I can’t take this. It’s like you don’t know about us, and your not knowing makes me not know.” She looks out to the dance floor, almost like she’s talking to herself. “What do you want, Marco?”

  I take her by the elbow and lead her to a balcony outside. It’s not too crowded, and I’m able to find a semi-private spot before she starts up again.

  “Marco, every decision I’ve made for my future is wrapped around you, and every decision you’re making is wrapped around your family or your friends or . . . Sally.”

  I look away toward the garden—a couple is walking down there, and I see that it’s Jade and Diego. He’s got one arm around her shoulders, and the other arm is crossed over his waist so that he can reach for her hand. And that’s who they are, always reaching for each other. They don’t want to keep their hands or options free. They see thresholds and cross them together. Me? I’m the guy who ran from the Pinterest board.

  It’s that simple.

  “What do you want?” Erika asks again, swiping at her tears, and I know it’s time to come clean—to her, to myself.

  I take a deep, unsteady breath. “That day you made me grilled cheese. I saw it, your board.”

  “What board?”

  “Your wedding board . . . on Pinterest.”

  She looks at the garden, her eyes landing on Jade and Diego, and her voice is wobbly when she speaks. “And so what?”

  “I ran.”

  “You did what?” She turns to me, eyes wide.

  “I ran.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want that.”

  “It’s just a board, Marco, a future dream. It’s not now.”

  “I know, but I don’t want that . . .” I take another unsteady breath, because this next part is hard. “With you. I don’t ever want that with you.”

  Her face falls, and for a second she looks too stunned to speak. But when she does, she asks, “And Sally?”

  I gulp. “This isn’t about Sally.”

  “But you want to find out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She nods, her eyes on the floor. “I’m gonna go.”

  “Where?”

  “Does it matter?” she asks, finally meeting my gaze. And I see there, in her eyes, that we’re done. I’m surprised by how that feels. The heaviness in my chest that explodes the minute she walks away, leaving me with an ache that spans the last four years—an ache that is partially filled with sadness, partially filled with relief.

  And I realize that even when your love for someone isn’t enough—even then—the breaking can hurt.

  It can hurt like hell.

  • • •

  The week before graduation, I drop by Mrs. A’s office to turn in my final project. It’s a week late, but that won’t affect my grade thanks to an extension Mrs. A gave me after Sookie told her about Pop. I can’t say the project is worth the wait, but it’s complete, and as Diego keeps telling me, “You make the best choices you can and let the rest flow.”

  Which means try your hardest.

  And I have tried on this project.

  And I have tried in this life too.

  The rest would have to flow.

  I find Mrs. A sorting through papers, separating the sheets into three stacks: wobbly, not so wobbly, and overflowing.

  She offers me her own wobbly smile when I walk through the door. “Done?” she asks.

  “Done.”

  “So what did you come up with?” She perches on the edge of her desk.

  “A list?”

  “Just a list.”

  “Something to think about?”

  The smile grows. “Better,” she says. “Better.”

  I hand her the portfolio: a formal paper on wormholes, a top ten list, and—

  “Your notes!” she exclaims. Her eyes grow wide. “I’m honored.”

  I glance down at the ground, embarrassed. “I . . .”

  “I know,” she says. “We’re human. We’re made to share our lives, our worries.” She pats me warmly on the shoulder. “Seriously, I’m honored.” She peers out of the open door. “Your people?” she says with a smile.

  I glance down the hall to Jade, Diego, Sookie, and Sally, waiting near the lockers.

  Sally.

  Sally, who Diego said I had to make things “100 percent right with.”

  “Because she’s back in with the tribe?” I joked a week after prom. We sat on the stoop of my house, rummaging through a box of Pop’s old mixtapes—companions to his boom box.

  “Bro, the girls had a sleepover yesterday. So yeah, she’s back in. And you know what?” Diego said. “Sals is good people.”

  Good people.

  Later that night, I thought about how Sally’s return had sent me down that wormhole into the past.

  Before Pop’s injury.

  Before she disappeared.

  Back when the world was still open.

  I wanted the world to be open again, and I had Sally to thank for that.

  The next day I took Diego’s advice and went to her house. I found her sitting in the yard—hair down, feet bare—petting that birthday kitten. She didn’t look surprised to see me. It was like she knew I had something to say. Or that the only way for us to move forward was if I got us there. So I took a deep breath and began with, “I thought about what you said. . . .”

  She smiled slowly. “I’ve said a lot.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled. “You did. And . . . I accept it.”

  “Okay . . .” Her forehead wrinkled. “What does that mean, accept?”

  I had practiced this speech before coming over, but standing in her yard, hear
t pounding, the words became stuck. All I could do was look around, remembering that day that I found her sitting outside, staring at the For Rent sign. She was so young back then. I was so young. I’d have given anything for her to stay, and now that she was back, I only had to offer up my understanding to have her close again.

  I pushed the words out. “I . . . accept . . . that it’s possible to do something and not know why. That parts of our lives get hazy. That sometimes survival mode is the only available mode. I get that because . . . because I feel like a part of me’s been doing that too, for years, because of Pop. . . . And I didn’t always get it right either. I got a lot of it wrong—a lot.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. “But I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know that,” I said after a pause. “I know that we were both just trying to make it through. I guess I had a lot more help though. . . .”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled tentatively. “I have more help now too.”

  So, yeah, Sally was back. We all were, that slow merging of who we used to be with who we’ve become. And all this on the eve of graduation.

  Diego waves his arms wildly, like, Are you coming already? Mrs. A laughs, waves back. “Your people,” she says again.

  “My people,” I agree. “My tribe.”

  Senior Year

  34. GRADUATION DAY

  THE BOTTLE SPINS AROUND AND around, a lazy circle that arcs past Diego, Jade, Sally, and Sookie and lands, crookedly, on me. I sit cross-legged on the itchy grass, the crunchy, hardy kind that Floridians know about—and feel that somewhere beneath my blue-and-gold robe, a fire ant roams. I stand, shake the gown out, and send the ant tumbling back onto the grass. Then I toss my cap to the side, and it lands next to “home base,” a lean palm tree where the rest of the tribe’s caps lay.

  All except for Jade’s. “You think I put this much hair spray on to have my look ruined?” She had cried earlier when we’d arrived at the park just after dark, lugging our picnic gear: an assortment of eats from the prepared-foods section of Grendel’s; a bottle of Boone’s Strawberry Hill Wine, fittingly procured by Sally’s brother, Boone; an abused but loved football that belongs to Diego; and a collection of assorted glow sticks.

  The glow sticks are Sally’s idea—Remember how obsessed we used to be with them?—and right now she is bending them in half so that they crackle and light up like mini–light sabers. She tosses a red one to Jade, a green one to Diego, a blue one to Sookie, and a purple one to me. She crowns herself with the white one and asks, “Are we playing or what?”