“He was never going to make it up the hill,” I say. “The test was fixed for him to fail.”
Pheus and Ato no longer stand before me. They are gone, and the only person here is Guabancex.
“It was a simple enough rule to follow,” the goddess says. “And yet he was unable to listen to a woman, a god no less.”
Guabancex placed my life in the hands of a boy who just the other day said he only trusted in the tangible. Pheus learned so much in so little time, but it wasn’t enough. The goddess condemned Pheus’s lack of trust while she coddled Ato. Her rules are like water.
“This wasn’t a true test. It was just an excuse to show how flawed humans are.” I’m so tired of this circular argument I can’t seem to break free from. Any sliver of hope I’ve been clinging to all this time slowly erodes. What more can I do?
“Come, let’s take one last stroll,” Guabancex says. I follow her along the quiet Bronx streets. It is early morning, and the few people walking near us are oblivious to our presence.
“So much construction. Soon this place will be unrecognizable,” she says, pointing to the new buildings and the old tenements being destroyed. “Dīs Pater continues to thrive. It’s so impressive.”
Although my heart aches for my short time on earth, she’s wrong to see only this side of the Bronx. There is more than just new developments meant to displace those who have lived here for so long. I point to a young mother gently pushing a child on a swing. The baby giggles each time.
“That is way more powerful than anything Dīs Pater creates,” I say. “And that.”
I point to an older woman setting up her coquito stand by the train station. A family walking together. A man wishing another man a good morning.
“These small inklings of joy aren’t enough,” the goddess says. “Most humans prefer to lean toward the promise of wealth. Waging war on each other to prove their dominance. I’ve seen this displayed on my many screens time and time again.”
“You are wrong. For so long, I could only see darkness, always waiting for evil to come for me. I forgot what true happiness was until recently,” I say. “I forgot there is beauty everywhere, and I am worthy of it. Me.”
We continue to walk. I pause to watch a young girl cross herself as she passes a church. She smiles at an old lady and asks for her blessing. I let the goodness around me fill me with light.
“Pheus was never meant to rescue me,” I say. “I was always meant to save myself. I overtook Sileno at the club. I did that. And I was the one who escaped Ato, not Pheus. Me, by myself. Place me right before Death again, and I will do the same.”
The goddess continues to walk, but I grab her arm. It is as hard and cold as marble. I have nothing to give to her, nothing left to prove. Either she sends me back to el Inframundo or she lets me go.
“No more of these so-called tests. I’m way too smart for them, and you know it,” I say. “You are bored with your television channels full of despair. It’s time to change your view.”
We’ve stopped in front of a large brown building. An ambulance pulls into the driveway.
“There is so much unrest on earth, both good and bad. I simply nudge from one direction to another. People choose the next step while I sit back and watch how the disorder unfolds. It has always been this way,” the goddess says as she faces the building. “Revolutions and agitations. Extreme highs and the unrelenting drops. Love and heartache. I see it all.”
She turns to me.
“So, tell me, what type of havoc will you bring?”
“The best kind,” I say, but I am cut off as Guabancex causes the building to flip upside down. The street is now the sky. Or is it my body that’s in motion? I am floating, and I don’t know which direction I am going. I close my eyes. Soon enough my destination will reveal itself, and whether I am in el Inframundo or back home, it will be a battle to survive. But I am ready.
I hear shouting and beeping noises. The voices sound familiar. I concentrate hard until I am certain I can reach them.
CHAPTER 41
Pheus
The security guards have got a hold on me. I dig my nails into the hospital door. Penelope’s father joins in on the ruckus to throw me out, but I keep holding on. Keep praying.
“You’ve done enough damage to this family,” he says. He’s itching to throw a punch. I brace myself for the hit.
“Wait!” Penelope screams. “Wait! Look. Look at her.”
Everyone stops. The nurse. The security guards. Penelope’s father. Me.
We turn to Eury. Her eyes flutter. We collectively hold our breath. The room is still. No, the whole world is still.
Eury slowly opens her eyes and blinks, scanning the room before settling on my face.
“Pheus,” she says, and it’s more than enough.
In fact, it’s everything.
CHAPTER 42
Eury
“Are you packed?” he asks.
The beach is crowded. Penelope and Aaron walked off to buy something at the kiosk. It’s almost time for lunch. The sun is hidden behind large clouds. There is a slight threat of rain. Penelope wanted to cancel today’s outing, but I convinced her not to.
“Almost,” I say.
Pheus sits on the cooler and tunes his new guitar. Jaysen swears up and down it was donated by an anonymous fan who saw Pheus perform at Dīs-traction. Pheus doesn’t believe him. He thinks Jaysen forced the owner, Sileno, to cough up the dough. I also heard they did other things to him too, worse than just forcing him to open his wallet. Pheus didn’t press for details, and neither did I.
I look over Pheus’s application for the music program on a borrowed iPad. I’m reading his essay, which he titled “The History of My Lamentations.” He writes about bachata music and its connection to the Dominican Republic. How this music has traveled from an island to this city. My favorite part is when he breaks down the lyrics to his song, the one he performs in the video he’s sending in. My song.
I’m sure Pheus will be accepted into the program. The only obstacle will be convincing his mother to go along with it.
“What time is your flight?”
“You’ve asked me that three times already.” I laugh. “We leave early tomorrow. Mami wants to get me on a schedule. My first appointment is on Monday.”
In the past few weeks, I’ve met with a therapist. It was scary at first, speaking to a stranger. A part of me understands how it will help, and another part still feels I must stick to hiding my problems. But I like her. She’s Panamanian and has a calm demeanor, one free of judgment. Convincing Mami to let me see her hasn’t been easy. But two days after I woke up, we sat down and spoke. It was so hard to be honest with her. She didn’t want to hear about my torment and how I can no longer continue on my own.
“All you need is faith in God,” she said as she tried hard to contain her emotions.
“That’s not enough, Mami. I need both faith and professional help,” I said. “I’ve been sad for so long, ever since Papi left. And after what happened during the hurricane, I need to find a way of dealing with my anxiety. I don’t know how to do it by myself.”
She shook her head. “They’re going to give you drugs, and you won’t be the same person.” I recalled the images of her so young, hiding under the covers, unable to cope. I wished I could tell her what I saw. Instead, I tried again.
“We need help to deal with this heaviness. Don’t you feel it?” I said. “I felt it in Puerto Rico and in Florida. I don’t want to continue carrying this. We can find a therapist who can understand where I’m coming from, perhaps someone from the island. Please, Mami, let’s try.”
The conversation lasted a long time. There were many tears. Mami is scared. So am I. But I can see Mami’s opinion shifting, and that gives me hope. It’s not a complete one-eighty, but it helps that the therapist speaks Spanish. We have appointments to see someone in Florida too. It’s a big step, for both of us.
Pheus stops fiddling around with his guitar
and smiles at me.
I haven’t seen or heard from Ato. My vigilance is still very much real. At the first sign of rain, the shakes begin, then the cold sweats. My instinct is to hide. To run. Even while I sit here, I can’t help but keep careful watch of the increasing clouds. The therapist should be able to help me with this. It will take time, but I’m ready to take it.
“Hey,” Pheus sits beside me. “What can I do?”
The issue isn’t the lack of help from the people who care for me. Sometimes the answer isn’t a simple statement. Do this and I will feel better. Say this word and I will return to acting “normal.” There is no such thing as normal or a magical fix. Solutions can be found in a combination of things—talking to a therapist, medication, and incorporating tips to help with my anxiety. It’s hard for Pheus. As with history, he thinks he can predict the outcome.
What is the opposite of predictability?
“Keep playing the guitar.”
He leans in and pecks my cheek. Pheus hasn’t left my side, even after Penelope’s father threatened to kick his ass. After a while, my family accepted him.
Jaysen arrives, talking loudly on his phone. The others are not too far away. Melaina and her friends. Conga players. They want Pheus to join them. He hasn’t committed. Jaysen has been traveling between both camps, trying to keep everyone happy.
“A sweet sixteen party in September. What do you think? The pay isn’t much, but it’s a start. Plus, they want to livestream the whole thing.”
“’Chacho, ¿tú no paras?” Pheus asks, slightly annoyed.
“Can’t stop. Won’t stop,” Jaysen says. “Besides, I’m sure Eury wants to see you performing. Keep an eye on you. Make sure you on key. Am I right?”
Each night, Pheus plays a song for me. He has been trying to translate the lyrics to Prince’s slow jams into Spanish. Change them up into a bachata. We’ve spent hours going over one song, and I still don’t think it’s quite right. Pheus thinks I’m too much of a perfectionist, but verses are not meant to be so literal. Symbolism is way more important.
I sweep my curtain of hair to one side. Although the sun is hidden, it is still very hot.
Penelope and Aaron soon return.
“Prima, can you braid my hair?” I ask. Penelope sits behind me, her knees pressing against me. Facing the ocean, she takes her time. My hair is so long.
“Remember when I used to do this for you when we were kids?” she says. “You were my practice.”
“I cried that one time when you pulled my hair way too hard.”
“That was because you didn’t want to share your coconut candy with me.”
“Mala.” I nudge her. Penelope promises to come visit me for Thanksgiving. Tampa isn’t too far away. I wish I could take them all with me in my luggage, especially Pheus.
The plan is for Mami and me to go to Puerto Rico for Christmas with Penelope and her family. I know it’s asking too much for Pheus to join us as well. Besides, he will be busy with school and other obligations. There is no money for a trip.
I have my own intentions, things I want to do. Besides taking care of myself, I want to find a way to return to the island. It’s why Mom and I are visiting for Christmas. Florida doesn’t feel right, and neither does the Bronx. I’ve started to think of what I want to do after high school, what I want to do in Puerto Rico. For the first time in a long time, I am thinking of the future. My ideal life is not fully fleshed out in my head, but there is the hint of possibility. What will Puerto Rico become for me? I get to shape what that looks like. Although I’m afraid, I’m also excited.
Pheus’s father came to visit me in the hospital and gave me a book: Puerto Rico mío, a collection of photographs by a famous photographer, Jack Delano. On the cover is a close-up of a young girl who is about eight years old. There is something about her that reminds me of Ato. A sadness in her eyes. At first, I didn’t want to accept the gift because the resemblance seemed too real. Too painful.
“You have to know your history before you can move forward,” he said. “Some people say dwelling in the past can be a crutch, but you can’t ignore it either. There has to be a fine balance.”
I thanked him for the book. It really is a beautiful tribute to my home. Pheus says his father is still working with the movers and still pining for his mother. This is a topic that hurts Pheus, but he is trying to accept it.
“How long before you sing a damn song?” Jaysen says, loud enough so the families near us laugh along.
Pheus rolls his eyes. He plucks a fast bachata on his guitar, one meant to be danced close to your partner. The song he sings is “Donde Estará,” by Antony Santos. A song of a man looking for his woman, asking where his “dulce mujer” is.
As soon as he starts, Penelope and Aaron get up. Their bare feet shuffle against the sand. Aaron is a great dancer. He learned over the summer as a way to draw Penelope closer to him. She loves it.
“C’mon, Eury.”
Jaysen grabs my hand, and we join in on the dancing. Like his talking, Jaysen’s moves are choppy and quick. He spends most of the time twirling me around, which is difficult on the sand, but we manage. With each spin, I search for Pheus. His laughter makes him miss a verse, so he begins again. No one seems to mind.
Pheus sings another song, and we keep dancing. The other families listen. A baby in diapers starts jumping up and down, and his family takes a video of it. He is pure joy.
After a third song, I am completely out of breath. No more dancing in circles. My head is still not right, what with the stitches.
Jaysen starts dancing with the mother of the baby. My stomach hurts from laughing.
If only this could last forever. I concentrate and take a mental picture of how Pheus’s fingers pull at the strings of the guitar. How he leans forward when he wants to emphasize a verse. How Penelope squeals every time Aaron turns her. How the baby claps his tiny hands together. He has found his own rhythm.
When Pheus stops, the small crowd cheers and thanks him.
From across the way, we hear rap music pulsing from a speaker.
“Yo, they playing the new one.”
Jaysen goes back to the other section, promising to return in a bit.
“We will be back.” Penelope and Aaron join Jaysen, wanting to keep the dance party going.
I lie on my back. There is another dark cloud joining the others. Will it be enough to make it rain? I practice my breathing exercises.
With Pheus beside me, the anxiety quells but only slightly. He is not my medicine. I have to figure this out on my own, and that is not a bad thing. Instead of facing the sky, I turn my body toward him. He does the same.
“Aaron said he’ll drive me to the airport. We’ll follow your uncle’s car.”
I knew he would figure out a way to prolong this goodbye.
I search for his hands. His rough fingertips lightly caress my skin. Our fingers intertwine.
When I close my eyes, I can see us both back on my island. My house is still intact. The llorosas are up in the tree. Each branch taken over by the tiny birds. They keep us company, vigilant over us. In this vision, Pheus and I are eager to see what we will discover. All around us, families are rebuilding. There is an outpouring of energy, excitement for what’s to come.
Pheus tugs at my hand.
“Hey,” he says, lightly kissing my forehead. “Where did you go?”
“Not far,” I say. “I will describe it so you, too, can see what I see.”
He closes his eyes. I lean on him and whisper this vision of us in his ear.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As I sit down to write this, the National Guard has set up shop a block away from my home in response to uprisings against police brutality, while an uncurable pandemic surges. Our present is disturbingly uncertain. Three years ago, I grappled with how trauma seeps into the fabric of each generation. Never Look Back emerged from this with Pheus and Eury, two characters that embody what so many young people deal with on a daily basis:
How to love and thrive when the world is set against you?
Never Look Back is also about the stigma behind mental health therapy. According to the American Association of Suicidology, Latinas have had among the highest rates of depressive symptoms and suicide rates compared to other groups for over thirty years, but only one in eleven Latinas ever seek treatment. My depression and anxiety have followed me since I was a child but it took me years to finally seek professional help. If you are struggling today, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. You are not alone.
So many people helped make this novel possible. Thank you so much to my editor Claire Stetzer and the wonderful team at Bloomsbury. Thank you to the Bronx-raised, Puerto Rican artist Krystal Quiles for creating such a beautiful cover. Thank you to Adriana M. Mártinez Figueroa for providing such an insightful sensitivity read. Thank you to my agent Eddie Schneider who read the first draft and urged me to keep going. Thank you to bachata, Prince, Gluck’s opera Orphée et Eurydice, and the movie Black Orpheus. And thanks to Puerto Rico, the island that always inspires.
When Hurricane Mária destroyed so many living on the island, including my family, I sought a way to funnel my rage and hopelessness. The Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice was the structure I needed to tell this tale of young love and hope. My wish is that you find a little bit of both on these pages.
BLOOMSBURY YA
Bloomsbury Publishing Inc., part of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018
BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published in the United States of America in September 2020 by Bloomsbury YA
Text copyright © 2020 by Lilliam Rivera
Illustrations copyright © 2020 by Krystal Quiles
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
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