Never Look Back

by Lilliam Rivera

  “Problems?” I ask.

  “You know, mental shit.” Jaysen taps his head. Does a circle with his finger.

  I push him, which makes him lose his balance. “Man, shut up. Why are you starting something?” I say, pissed off. “Let’s go before I take this guitar and knock you out with it.”

  Jaysen can be ridiculous sometimes. He has potential, we all do, but there are moments when he gets caught up in these stereotypical roles. Jaysen is smart, so it riles me up even more when he comes out of his face like now.

  “I’m just saying,” he mumbles.

  “Let’s go before I bounce. You don’t know a thing about Penelope’s family, so stop speculating. Damn.”

  We walk to my building in silence. I’m not here for people making jokes about mental stuff. It’s not lost on me how my father battles depression. Everyone has a hang-up, even Jaysen with his hyperactivity. He was basically raised on cheap soda. You think I’m going to tell him that? No. I look out for him by nudging him to let go of the soda and drink water instead. Right now I just want him to be quiet about Penelope’s cousin. It’s not cool to talk about our friend’s family like we’re Bossip. Whatever is going on with her is none of our business.

  Penelope waits with her arms tight across her chest. Her cousin stands beside her. I can see the family resemblance right away, although her cousin is not thin like Penelope. She has way more curves. Her hair is thick and long. It covers most of her face.

  “Sorry we late.” I give Penelope a kiss hello. Jaysen does the same. Her cousin seems distracted and doesn’t really acknowledge us.

  “You expecting somebody else?” I ask, trying to figure out what she’s looking for.

  “No,” Penelope says. She glances over to her cousin. For a second, I catch the concerned look before Penelope changes it into a smile.

  “This is Eury. Eury, this is Jaysen and Pheus.”

  I reach out my hand and Eury takes it. She has large brown eyes. No makeup needed for that beautiful melanin. A serious face, tho. No smile.

  “Pheus? ¿Como feo?” Eury asks. Penelope cracks up.

  “No, like fierce. It’s a nickname. Nice to meet you.” I hit her with mine, straight teeth and all. She doesn’t respond. Not the reaction I was expecting. “How you like the Bronx so far?”

  Eury stares at the corner bodega. She finally meets my eyes for a split second, then looks away.

  “She hasn’t even been here for a full twenty-four hours,” Penelope answers.

  “Welcome to the Boogie Down anyway.” I tilt my head as if I am bowing to her, complete with an imaginary hat. When I look up, I notice an inkling of a grin. More than enough to verify I’m not a total fool.

  Our boy Aaron honks the horn on his parents’ car. Before we even have a chance, Penelope calls shotgun. We pile in. These moments are rare. Usually we are either schlepping around in an Uber or taking the MTA. I’m glad Aaron came through this time.

  I hold the car door open for Eury. She wears jean shorts and a shirt, both I know are from Penelope. The clothes fit differently on her. She fills the jeans out. Can’t help checking. I’m dressed in the usual, which is fine until I notice the light green shirt I’m wearing to show off my flow has a stain. Way to show them tiguere moves.

  The radio is already on full blast with Cardi B’s latest trap remix. Head bouncing to the tune, Jaysen is consumed with texting the plans for today, although we pretty much know where to meet. Me, I’m trying to figure out Eury, who sits right beside me in the cramped car.

  Even with her hair, I can still make out that she’s cute. Naw, she’s not cute. Cute is for a teddy bear. She’s more than that.

  She holds her phone in her hand. Her screen has a picture of Prince on it. It’s an old one from when Prince had straightened hair. I prefer Prince with the ’fro.

  “Prince fan?” I ask.

  She nods. She’s not like Penelope who will talk to anyone about anything. Eury is so shy.

  The car swerves and I lean into her. “Sorry.”

  Her jump is noticeable. There’s no room in the back seat, what with my guitar case nestled between my legs. I apologize again and try my best to stick to the middle.

  “It’s fine.”

  I can hear the tilt in her voice. Puerto Rican accents are mad dope. Don’t get it twisted; Dominican accents are fine as hell. I don’t have a preference. I like them both. An accent makes you stand out, means you’re from somewhere. You are either a step away from your home or a step toward it. Her accent sounds like old-school salsa, like the right type of everything.

  “I heard Prince is Puerto Rican. He never acknowledged that side of his roots, so he’s kind of wack, if you ask me.” I’m literally talking out of my ass. I don’t know a thing about Prince except tired ol’ “Purple Rain” and how he macked on the fine Apollonia.

  Eury turns away from staring out the window and faces me. She doesn’t seem happy with what I said.

  “It’s not true,” she says. “His parents were Black.”

  “Aight. Makes sense. It’s why he got soul. I got soul too.” I tap the guitar in case she hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Do you know any Prince songs?” she asks.

  “My thing is bachata,” I say. “Al estilo romántico.”

  “Like Romeo?”

  “Yeah, but way better.”

  “I don’t like bachata.”

  I cling to my heart. Jaysen laughs out loud, his fingers still tapping away on the phone.

  “That’s because you haven’t heard me sing.” I hum a tune. She’s not impressed. Just you wait. She’ll hear me. I’ve got to think of the right song, tho.

  “Yo, check out that billboard. Dīs-traction. It’s a new club by Kingsbridge. Now that’s where you need to be at,” Jaysen says. “I know somebody who might be able to hook you up.”

  It’s hard to believe they’re converting the former Kingsbridge Armory into an entertainment complex. A fancy restaurant has already set up shop with a rooftop pool and now a nightclub. Pops says he remembers when the National Guard occupied a section of the cavernous building. He also said the place has bad vibes. As for the name, they could have come up with a slew of better, catchier titles.

  “Dīs-traction. Who came up with that? It’s just begging for people to dismiss it,” I say. “See what I did there?”

  Eury barely smiles at my corny joke. At least it’s something.

  “It don’t matter. They had their grand opening a month ago. Bused in models and celebrities,” Jaysen says. “You need to be on that stage since it’s definitely going to be the hottest club in the BX.”

  Eury has turned her attention back to the window. I try to start another conversation with her. We keep getting interrupted by Jaysen and his plans for my grand debut, a debut I haven’t actually agreed to. Brother can never take a hint. Soon enough I give up trying. Instead I go over Prince songs in my head and see if I know any lyrics by heart.

  Melaina has her daggers out. Strangers are not welcome in her world—especially if the strangers are of the female kind. She stands by the entrance of the beach. Her friends Thalia and Clio beside her. I call them las Malas, because they are.

  “Who’s that?” Melaina hooks her arm around my elbow. Eury and Penelope walk a little ahead of us, unable to hear Melaina’s tongue.

  “Penelope’s cousin. Her name is Eury.”

  “Eury?” She throws her head back and laughs. I can see the back of her teeth.

  “Don’t start nothing,” I say. “It’s ugly.”

  “Shut up. You love it.”

  It’s going to be a long day. There’s no way of controlling Melaina. We have never been exclusive—she sees other people, as do I. Summers uptown mean easy reunions. It’s usually fun, but not when she’s like this. Melaina wants to be the queen of every moment, and a new person distracts from her being the center. We join the others settling in on the beach.

  “Melaina! This is my cousin Eury.” Penelope introduces them. />
  “Nice to meet you.” Melaina’s expression is a mask of sweetness. A face she holds only for people she doesn’t trust. “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from the island,” Eury says.

  “What island? There’s so many!” Melaina says. “You’ll have to be a little bit more specific.”

  There is a meanness to the question. A slight.

  “Girl! Why are you playing? She’s from Puerto Rico, right in the center of the island where the mountains are. A mountain girl!” Penelope can see where this is heading. “Come with me. I got to buy some water. Eury, we’ll be right back.”

  Penelope grabs Melaina’s hand and leads her away to a nearby kiosk. Penelope will try her best to simmer Melaina’s jealousy. The only way to distract Melaina is by showering her with compliments.

  I can’t today with the way people are acting out. I don’t like when my friends are rude. Eury doesn’t deserve it. She is a guest in our group, and we should be welcoming her. Eury watches Penelope and Melaina walk off. She seems uncomfortable. She faces the ocean, deep in thought. Does she hate us already?

  To ease the awkward silence between us, I reach for my guitar. I sit on the cooler and let my fingers strum familiar chords. Before we arrived, I made sure to do a quick search online. I can improvise the parts I’m not too sure of. The song will be an offering, a way to erase the drama Melaina is trying to pull. I sing Prince’s “Adore” in Spanish. I only had time to memorize the first verse. I kick off the second verse with the original lyrics.

  Eury recognizes the tune right away and finally pushes her hair away from her face. Her sadness slowly melts.

  No one else is around. Jaysen and Aaron are meeting others to help carry stuff. Penelope and Melaina are taking their time at the kiosk. This is my favorite thing to do—to share an intimate moment and make someone’s mood change. It didn’t work for Pops earlier, but at least it can here. Eury is no longer watching the sea; instead she’s listening. With my voice and my guitar, I’m an alchemist.

  “I never heard ‘Adore’ sung that way before,” she says when I’m done. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I told you Prince was Puerto Rican,” I say. “Kidding.”

  I hit pause for a second. “You must miss Puerto Rico,” I say.

  “Yes.” Her sadness returns and overshadows the good. “I miss it so much.”

  “The hurricane?” I ask.

  She nods. I don’t know what it must be like to be forced to leave your home. I don’t wish it on anyone. There is a silence, and although silence can make others feel uncomfortable, I accept it. It’s okay to let the other person find the right words to communicate. It is the same with music.

  I ask her if she wants to check out the water, and she says yes. We walk on the not-yet-scorching sand. There are only a few families around. Young kids building their sandcastles. In a few minutes, the place will be jumping. I love when the beach is quiet like this. A person can think.

  “Orchard Beach is no Puerto Rico,” I say. I’m about to hit Eury with what I’m really good at—history. “Did you know Orchard Beach is the only beach in the Bronx? This used to be Siwanoy territory and was called Split Rock. A super religious woman, Anne Hutchinson, decided to lay claim to the land. The people were not happy. There was a massacre. So, you know, like most things, it’s a decent beach created by lots of bloodshed.”

  A slight breeze blows her hair. The sun hits her profile like a spotlight. She radiates and I’m rendered speechless staring at her.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she says. Her face is serious, but there’s a glint in her eyes, a hint that maybe I’m not completely boring her. Her brown eyes are really something. It’s weird how I can already form lyrics to songs just from this moment we’re sharing.

  “Sorry, history is my thing,” I say. “What I’m trying to say is parts of Puerto Rico may have been destroyed, but beauty always finds a way of making a comeback.”

  “I guess that can be true,” she says. “But darkness can still lurk underneath the pretty. I’ve known beautiful people who are arbiters of hate. Ato once …”

  “Ato?” I ask. Is Ato slang for something in Puerto Rico? “What’s an Ato?”

  “Sorry. Never mind. I forgot where I was,” she says. Her eyes dart frantically around. This must be a jab at Melaina and she doesn’t want her to hear it. Funny. There’s more to Eury than just shyness.

  “Anyway, Prince, huh?”

  “Yes, Prince.”

  Melaina’s voice is loud. She is letting her presence be known. I want to keep talking to Eury about Bronx history and Prince covers. Melaina and I rarely speak about anything interesting. We keep things superficial. It’s a summer relationship, and summer relationships are meant to burn up fast.

  Eury bends down and unearths a seashell. When she stands, she gently brushes the sand off. I lean in to get a closer look. There is a scent of Moroccan oil emanating from her. It’s one of my favorite smells, reminding me of calmness. Her fingernails are bare. Her lips, full, with only a hint of rose.

  The seashell she holds has red spots and a perfect spiral.

  “Pretty,” she says.

  “Yes,” I say.

  I can’t stop staring.

  CHAPTER 4

  Eury

  Speaking to people comes easily for others, especially Penelope. She went to modeling school. They taught her how to be poised and how to walk into a room wearing heels. The summer after she graduated from the Mirror Mirror Modeling Agency, she spent hours on FaceTime trying to teach me how to do the same. Penelope can talk to anyone. I, on the other hand, can’t figure out what to say to Pheus without uttering Ato’s name. I’m so careless. Listening to him sing “Adore” in Spanish made me forget what I’m meant to do. I have to stay vigilant.

  I tuck the shell into my borrowed shorts.

  “Where does your name come from?” I ask as we walk back to the others.

  “It’s my stage name. My real name is Orpheus,” he says. “Moms wanted to call me something kingly like David or Rion. Pops had other ideas. He said I was born to be a poet. I don’t know about that.”

  “Pheus.” I repeat his name and suddenly feel foolish doing so. He smiles warmly at me. I walk a little faster.

  Penelope warned me to steer away from Pheus and Jaysen. Jaysen because he is a firecracker, popping off here and there. He’s unable to focus or be contained. Pheus because everyone is in love with him, especially Melaina, who is not so much in love with as in possession of.

  Melaina plants a long kiss on Pheus. When she’s done, she makes sure I witnessed the display. Her arms stay interlocked around his neck. Pheus seems bothered by the gesture. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be the sole focus of her attention.

  I lie down on the blanket. Penelope joins me.

  “Sorry about the drama,” Penelope says quietly. “It takes a while for Melaina to warm up to new people.”

  “Or maybe she’ll never warm up to me,” I say.

  “Ha ha ha. No!” A nervous laugh. Penelope’s embarrassed by Melaina’s attitude. These are her friends and it must be uncomfortable to see the way they act toward a stranger.

  “He can really sing,” I say.

  “Aww, don’t fall for that old trick. Besides, I thought you only had ears for Prince,” Penelope says. “Did you see my boo? Aaron’s not the smartest, but he is the finest.”

  Aaron laughs out loud while Jaysen tells him a story having to do with a mean bodega cat. I haven’t really spoken to Aaron, but I’ve seen the way he looks at Penelope. He caters to her, always making sure she’s taken care of, offering her water or something to eat. Part of me is happy for Penelope. The other part wants to warn her to be wary of kindness from anyone.

  I look in Pheus’s direction, and he returns my stare. What does this action mean when Melaina is right beside him? It means nothing.

  When Pheus sang the words to “Adore,” I felt such a heaviness in my chest. I didn’t expect to be moved so deeply b
y his voice. The first time I heard Prince, Mami was in the kitchen singing quietly to the song “Kiss.” This was before Papi left us. They were still arguing, but not that day. It was such a rare treat to see Mami enjoy anything, let alone a song. Whenever I could, I would ask her to play “Kiss” for me. As I got older, I eventually discovered all of Prince’s songs.

  My love for Prince stems not only from how talented a musician he was, there’s no argument there, but Prince was also very spiritual. In the interviews I read, he was always so forthcoming with that. After being such a sexual person, Prince found religion, and this blessing came through in his songs. Prince was telling the world you can be both: passionate and a believer.

  Pheus doesn’t sound anything like Prince. He doesn’t even sound like Romeo Santos, although I can see why the comparisons are being made. The talent to move a person simply with a guitar and a voice. Does Pheus understand how few people have this ability? I can’t stop glancing over to him.

  “Who’s bringing the congas?” Jaysen asks.

  More and more people come to the beach. Large families and couples. The circle of friends expands. Penelope doesn’t push me to join. Conversations continue without me. In between the groups of people finding space on the beach, I search for signs of Ato. My sneakers still on even as I lie on the blanket.

  A tiny sparrow with speckled gray and brown feathers tears into a piece of bread, making a quaint peeping sound. This bird looks nothing like las llorosas de Puerto Rico, who are slightly bigger and darker, but I can’t help thinking of them. When the llorosas are afraid, they make a screeching, crying sound, hence their name.

  A young girl and boy, about six years old, give chase to the bird that flies away. The girl holds a bucket while the boy starts digging into the sand using a plastic shovel. The sun already lightening the ends of his curls to a honey color.

  “Yo te enseño,” he says. The girl listens and plops down beside him. The boy takes hold of the bucket and places both his hands in it. He lifts his cupped hands and sprinkles water on the little girl. She lifts her face up as if she’s being blessed.