“Mmm. Good question,” her father said, rubbing his chin. “Well, it would have to be A Whiter Shade of Pale.”
“Procol Harum?” Meche said with a frown. “It doesn’t talk about love.”
“It doesn’t have to. Are you alright, Meche?”
“Yeah. Just tired,” she said, smiling.
“Okay. I have to write for a bit. Do you want to listen to some Rolling Stones later?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
Her father gave her another pat on the head and grabbed his glass, taking it with him. Meche wandered back into the living room and sat next to Grandmother Dolores, resting her head against her shoulder.
“Can you tell me another story about witches?” she asked, grabbing the ball of yarn and putting it on her lap.
Grandmother Dolores nodded, her needles clicking.
“There was a girl in my village who once fell in love with a
nahual
. He came to her house one night, in the shape of a fox to steal some chickens and she...”
Meche closed her eyes and listened to her grandmother, her voice transporting her from the little apartment to other lands.
I
N ADDITION TO
his job bagging groceries, Sebastian had picked up a seasonal gig at the mall wrapping gifts. It paid more than his supermarket gig but he had to wear a ridiculous plastic crown which was meant to identify him as one of the Three Kings.
But he needed the money, even if he looked like a dork.
He planned to use the money to buy small gifts for his family, Daniela and Meche. Sebastian had considered returning the necklace he had bought Isadora for her birthday and using the cash for something else, but he decided to keep it. Maybe one day he could give it to her. Maybe he could give it to another girl. He wished he had a girlfriend like all the other boys.
It didn’t even have to be an amazingly beautiful girlfriend like Isadora. It could just be a regular girl. Someone to talk to, hold hands with, kiss, make out with. He envied the easy confidence of his peers. They could go up to girls and ask for their numbers. Sebastian had tried asking a girl—a fellow grocery bagger—out but she just stared at him like he had said an insult. Afterwards Sebastian stopped even thinking of asking anyone out. It seemed like a futile enterprise.
Sebastian cut wrapping paper and folded it, his long fingers carefully taping the sides.
He decided to think about something else. Meche’s Christmas present. He usually bought her books, which she invariably hated, but he tended to complement those with mix tapes, which she liked. He was thinking of buying her a book of Auden’s poetry and he could make a mix tape of songs from the 60s because Meche liked that time period.
He pasted bows and cut more wrapping paper. Once in a while he looked down at the list of songs he had written on a little piece of paper and struck one out.
“I didn’t know you worked here.”
He looked up. Isadora was carrying a couple of boxes in her arms. She set them down on his counter. Sebastian felt terribly embarrassed to be caught looking like such a fool, wrapping gifts for a few pesos an hour.
“Just ’til Epiphany,” he said. “Those two?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian tried to cut the paper as quickly as he could, his fingers flying over the boxes.
“Are you excited about the play tomorrow?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“Me neither. It’s always the same deal every year. The posada might be fun,” she said with a little shrug.
“I am not staying for the posada after it.”
“No?”
“There’s a party at Jimena Estrada’s house later. Do you know her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“My friend Meche thinks the school posada is kind of lame so we’re going to Jimena’s posada. You’re... ah... welcome to join us.”
Isadora did not say anything. Sebastian regretted his attempt at small talk. He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut. Like Isadora would care what he did in his free time.
“Well, here you go,” he said, putting two red bows on the packages and handing them back to her.
“Thanks.”
“Bye,” he said cutting more little pieces of tape and readying himself for the next client.
“I’m sorry if I was rude to you at my birthday party.”
Sebastian looked up at her, shocked to hear her say that.
“You weren’t really rude,” he said.
“No, I was. You were just trying to be friendly. It’s just, Constantino was being annoying... ugh, anyway, you’re always nice to everyone.”
“I don’t try to be nice.”
“That’s why you are.”
She grabbed her presents and paused for a moment.
“Where is that posada? I might go.”
“Do you have a piece of paper? I can write it down for you.”
“I don’t have paper.”
“Give me your arm.”
Isadora put down her packages and he grabbed her arm, carefully writing the address with blue ink.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Cool.”
He watched her walk away and smiled.
S
EBASTIAN DID NOT
listen to a single line during the performance. He stood in his place at the back of the stage with Meche and Daniela, simply staring at Isadora and willing the performance to end so they could all escape to Jimena’s apartment.
After the show, they decided to go home and change. Sebastian said he would pick Meche up. He was late because he’d taken special care in choosing his clothes. He wore a nice black shirt and jeans and had combed his hair back with a lot of gel.
He jumped on his motorcycle to pick up Meche. She climbed behind him and they sang The Fishes in the River at the top of their lungs. Sebastian had never understood the significance of a song which talked about fishes drinking river water while the baby Jesus was being born, but it was one of the few Christmas songs he knew from beginning to end, so he was happy to sing it.
When they reached her apartment, Jimena greeted them with a loud, festive hug, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. She was dressed in nearly nothing, belly bared, and tottered on high heels. Pretty much what you’d expect from Jimena.
“I brought beer,” Meche said.
“Put in the kitchen, girl,” Jimena said. “Your little friend is here.”
“Who?” Sebastian asked, perking up.
“Dani.”
“Oh.”
They dropped the beer in the kitchen and Sebastian served himself fortified punch with a big piece of cinnamon. Meche carried two little plastic cups in her hands, giving one to Daniela, who had found a place near the sound system.
“Hey,” she said. “Where were you? I’ve been waiting for ever.”
“I dunno. He took forever,” Meche said, giving Daniela a little cup.
“Thanks. My mom said I could only stay ’til nine, so I can’t be here for long.”
“Aw. That’s like nothing at all.”
“You know how she is. She’s afraid I’m going to have a relapse.”
“You just want to go home and watch your soaps.”
They pulled up a couple of chairs and sat with Daniela, drinking their punch until it was time for her to leave; then they walked her downstairs and waited for her dad to arrive. They waved goodbye when Daniela got in the car.
“Man, Jimena sure poured a lot of booze in that punch this year.”
“Yup,” Sebastian said.
“We should have some more,” Meche snapped her fingers. “Oh, Jimena gave me money to buy more ice. Wanna go with me?”
“Okay.”
“Race you to the store.”
Sebastian was ready to chase after Meche but then he saw Isadora and Constantino approaching. She was wearing a very nice red coat with large brass buttons. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was smiling at him.
“Hi,” she said. “I brought Constantino with me. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” Sebastian said.
“Third floor?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to buy ice,” Meche said sharply.
“See you inside,” Sebastian added.
Meche and Sebastian walked briskly, hands in their pockets.
“You invited her to my cousin’s posada?” she asked.
“The whole neighbourhood is invited to your cousin’s posada.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t even ask.”
“Sorry.”
Meche shook her head, walking to the corner store and back in a regal silence which spoke volumes. Sebastian felt bad briefly, but once they reached the door of the apartment he was actually pissed at Meche for being so selfish. She made it worse by pulling away from him and going to stand next to Jimena, like he did not exist. Sebastian put the ice in the kitchen, mixed a couple of rum and Cokes, and went in search of Isadora.
She was sitting by herself, looking out the window and smoking a cigarette.
“Um... I didn’t know what you wanted, so I brought this,” he said, handing her the cup.
“Thanks,” she said, placing it on the window sill and smiling again. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“No problem. Where’s Constantino?”
“Somewhere,” Isadora said with a little huff. “I wanted to come alone but when he heard I was heading here he insisted on coming. Sorry about that. I didn’t want him here.”
“I thought you were friends,” Sebastian said.
“We are,” Isadora said, looking at her nails.
Isadora and Constantino had gone out for six months but broke up before the school year started. From what Sebastian understood, Constantino had dumped Isadora to go out with Miroslava, one of Isadora’s friends. Sebastian thought this was pretty stupid because Miroslava wasn’t half as pretty as Isadora.
“I think he’s just jealous that you invited me,” she said. “He’s silly like that.”
“He doesn’t have anything to be jealous about,” Sebastian paused. “Are you guys together again?”
“No,” Isadora said.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I mean, who am I?”
“No, it’s okay,” she replied. “Everyone thinks Constantino is so great but he’s not that awesome.”
“I guess.”
“Sorry. I know he’s a bit of a dick with you.”
“I guess it’s a night for ‘sorries.’”
Isadora finished her cigarette and flicked the butt out the window, giving him a half-smile.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken more than half a dozen words with you,” she said. “Why’s that?”
“We orbit around different suns, I suppose.”
It was the type of corny line that Meche would have rolled her eyes at—no sense in discussing suns, stars, moons and similes with her—but Isadora did not seem to mind.
“I kind of like that,” she said and the smile grew.
He decided, right then and there, to mail the golden heart on the chain to her and to hell with the consequences.
M
ECHE HAD BEEN
surveying the room from Jimena’s side, studying the crowd and keeping an eye on Isadora and Sebastian. When the girl started giggling she’d had enough. Meche rolled her eyes and rolled herself into the kitchen, pouring herself an obscene amount of punch and drinking it in one long gulp. She poured herself another and walked out, holding her drink, and saw that Isadora and Sebastian were still talking.
“I think your boyfriend is making a pass at Isadora,” Constantino said.
He was by himself, eyes fixed on their beautiful classmate.
“He’s my buddy,” she said. “Not my boyfriend.”
“Honest mistake.”
“I think your girlfriend wants to make out with my buddy.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Honest mistake,” Meche replied as she finished her drink. “Thirsty?”
“Yep.”
“Let’s get you a refill.”
They went to the kitchen and Meche filled their cups. Constantino leaned against the refrigerator, drumming his fingers against its side. Meche sat on one of the kitchen counters, swinging her legs and thinking thoughts as deep and dark as black holes.
“Why did you dance with me the other night?” she asked him.
“What? Did I need a permit?”
“I’m curious.”
“I felt like I should.”
Meche chuckled. “You want to go out and see what they’re up to?”
“Yes.”
“You still have a thing for her?”
He did not admit it, but didn’t need to and she got why he’d danced with her at the party—to piss Isadora off.
“Don’t let me hold you back,” she said, jumping off the counter.
They moved towards the living room. Constantino flew to Isadora like an arrow, installing himself by her side. Meche watched as Sebastian pulled away, slowly drifting from them as Constantino wrapped an arm around the girl, beginning what looked like a very animated conversation.
Sebastian looked in Meche’s direction. Their eyes locked together.
Meche felt a bitter knot in her stomach. It was not the product of the cheap alcohol in the punch; Jimena’s apartment was too crowded, the noise too much. Beneath the buzz of the conversations played Total Eclipse of the Heart. She could not make out the words, barely could hear the music, just felt the beat. She wanted pain and loneliness and everyone to stop talking and Sebastian and no one, all at the same time. Meche grabbed her jacket and headed downstairs.
She did not expect Sebastian to follow her, but he did.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.
“I’m getting more ice,” she said and hoped he’d leave it at that.
“I’ll help you.”
“No!”
“I’ll get my jacket.”
“I said no!”
She rushed down the steps and hurried out into the street. When she heard him behind her she ran. She rushed towards her home, turned a corner and bumped into a mound of garbage, tripped over something and fell.
She felt the glass cutting her hand and looked down to see she had sliced her palm with a dirty beer bottle. Meche groaned.
“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked.
He looked concerned. His anxiety irritated her. Meche stood up, wiping her hand against her jeans and nodding.
“I’m drunk,” she announced. “That’s all.”
“You shouldn’t be walking by yourself like this.”
“Shouldn’t you be back at the posada? You’ve left your guest all alone.”
“Fuck that, I’m taking you home.”
“I have two legs and can walk it.”
“I’m not letting you go without me.”
Meche was going to tell him to fuck himself but then a wave of nausea hit her and she turned around, vomiting all over the sidewalk. The bitter taste in her mouth seemed like a fine coda for the night and she promised herself she would wish for a different life come morning.