Rule #16
WHAT NEEDS TO BE WILL BE
SONNY
I lay holding Cai, listening to her steady breathing. There is no way I’ll be able to fall asleep after what we have done. I am vibrating with the memory of her body against mine, her soft sounds, and the way she had arched into my touch.
Once I am sure she is deeply asleep, I carefully slide my arm out from under her and slip from the bed. I grab the flashlight and ease the door shut behind me.
I’m not sure where to go, but I need space. Being near Cai clouds my brain. She makes me forget responsibilities, consequences, even my own secrets.
She keeps pulling away every time things get intense, and not just physically, but emotionally.
Trevor’s ghost is still hovering between us, not surprising given how recent the split has been, but I need perspective.
She is probably feeling conflicted; I get that. Still, it stings every single time.
I wander toward the living room. Standing by the front door, staring up at the small window at the top, is Cai’s father.
He isn’t a quiet man, but rather a man overshadowed by the strong personalities around him in his family.
He has bright, intelligent eyes that seem to quietly observe everything.
Cai has explained to me how he is a scientist who worked in agriculture.
The jungle that is their backyard is the result of his green thumb.
He didn’t look over to me as he spoke. “It looks like we are almost in the eye.”
I cock my head to the side, listening. The wind softens to an eerie hush. “Does that mean the worst is over?”
Cai’s father turns to me. “Usually, yes. The front half is normally the rougher one. The eye gives you a chance to catch your breath and regroup. Then the second half is easier.”
He shifts his head to one side and adds, “Although it may be, it just feels that way because you had time to relax and reflect on the first half.”
He looks back up at the window. “I always insist that they leave this little window unboarded. It’s small and thick, unlikely to break. For me, the reward of observing the storm outweighs any risk from not boarding it up.”
I walk over and stand near him to look out the transom window. I’m not sure what he is watching; all I can make out is some dark grey and maybe moonlight?
Out of nowhere, Cai’s father turns to me and asks, “Have I told you how glad I am that Cai brought you home to meet us?”
“Oh, Cai and I aren’t together,” I say.
I expect surprise or confusion, but the look he gives me is knowing. One that seems to say that he knows something I don’t.
“We have a saying: Si tiene que ser, será. It means if it needs to be, it will be.”
That’s all he says. I’m not sure how to respond. Does he think being with Cai is meant to be? Or is he warning me some things simply need to happen, even if they’re messy?
“Want to come outside and look?” he asks.
I glance at the door. “Is it dangerous?”
He smiles warmly. “No, it’s calm now, and it’ll be spectacular.”
“Then yes, sir.”
“Call me Carlos,” he says.
“You got it, Carlos.”
Carlos unlatches the door, and we step out into the night. It’s surprisingly aglow outside. Even the wet grass reflecting the moonlight makes it look dazzling. I look up, and my breath catches.
A full moon shines through a perfect circle of clear sky, ringed by fast-moving black clouds. I am standing inside a living cyclone. The world is eerily still and beautiful.
“Whoa,” I whispered.
“What’d I tell you? Spectacular, right?”
It is one of the most awe-inspiring things I’ve ever seen. I am sharing this glorious vision with Cai’s father, and I become overwhelmed with the desire to share something of my own with him.
“I want to be with her. Cai, I mean.”
Carlos doesn’t look surprised. “I know.” He keeps gazing at the swirling clouds. “Con el tiempo y la paciencia se adquiere la ciencia. With time and patience, one acquires wisdom.”
I let out a short laugh. “I hate being patient.”
“So does Cayetana,” Carlos says with a small smile. “That’s why she’s in this mess with men. She wants to be married now, in love now, playing house now. So she keeps choosing Mr. Right Now instead of waiting for Mr. Right.”
I want to be Mr. Right, but I’m not even being Mr. Honest. I need to fix that.
Carlos stands quietly beside me, both of us staring up at the eye’s impossible beauty. The moonlit circle of calm feels almost sacred, like the world has paused just long enough for us to catch our breath.
A whoosh of sparking yellow-green lights floats on a soft breeze. It is the same beetles I’d seen inside earlier, but several of them, moving in a way that, for a moment, I think their goal is to further decorate the splendor for us.
“?Mira eso!” Carlos says in awe.
“?Cocuyos, right?”
Carlos smiles at me. “There’s a poet who wrote a book called The Prince of the Cocuyos. He, like many Cubans, felt Cocuyos symbolize our heritage and, I think, the struggle with cultural identity. Funny, how a little thing can hold all of that meaning.”
This isn’t real. This is a dream, an experience created in virtual reality. The beauty of being surrounded by hundreds of glowing nostalgia bugs in the heart of a storm is beyond my comprehension.
“I wish Cai were here,” I say aloud.
Carlos sighs and says, “I think that same thing all the time. I know it’s selfish to want all your children to stay with you forever, and I’m more fortunate than most. Still, I miss her.”
After a long moment, the cocuyos move on, or maybe back into hiding, and Carlos claps me on the shoulder. “Come on, mijo. The second half will be here soon. We should get back inside before the wind picks up again.”
I nod, reluctant to leave the strange peace outside.
As we step back through the front door, the protective darkness of the house wraps around us once more.
The lantern light in the living room flickers softly.
The storm will be picking up soon, but for now, the house is a cocoon; safe, warm, and full of life.
Carlos gives me one last knowing look before heading toward the kitchen. “Remember what I said. Si tiene que ser, será.”
I sit on the couch, lean my head back, and close my eyes, drawing on the image of the night sky I’d just seen. It calmed my thoughts, and I pushed out all the thoughts of Cai’s full thighs, sparkling eyes, soft lips, and gentle teasing. I am determined to think rationally about Cai.
CAI
I wake up alone.
The bed is only a twin, but it feels empty and too cold.
For a disorienting second, I think the whole night has been a dream; the closet, the dark, Sonny’s hands on me, the way I had almost let go of everything.
The faint smell of ginger and citrus is still on the sheets beside me, however, and my skin remembers exactly where he had touched me.
He left.
The thought hits hard. Had I gone too far? Had my guilt ruined the moment so badly he couldn’t even stay beside me? Or worse, had he finally realized I’m too much of a mess to deal with? Had he finally reached the point every other man I’ve dated reaches, where they get tired of me?
I sit up, heart pounding, and reach for the flashlight on the nightstand. The house feels calm even after what must’ve been a few hours of being beaten by the storm. We must be in the eye.
I need to find Sonny.
I open the door and almost run into my dad, no doubt on his way back to his room.
“Papa, have you seen Sonny?”
“?Dime, mija, es que has estado con tantos sapos que no reconoces un buen pescado fresco?” (Tell me, have you dated so many toads that you don’t recognize a fresh fish?)
“You haven’t even met Trevor or my other boyfriends to know how they were…” I shift uncomfortably.
Why does everyone feel the need to offer their own opinion on my love life? It is confusing enough with just me in my head.
My dad leans forward and kisses my forehead.
“I don’t need to know them; I know who you became with them.
Sonny’s in the living room.” He pats my arm affectionately and adds.
“Si lo dejas pa’ manana, manana viene alguien con mejor vista.
Buenas noches, mi amor.” (If you save what you have to enjoy tomorrow, someone who appreciates it may take it before tomorrow. Good night, my love.)
With that enigmatic final thought hanging in the air between us, my dad makes his way down the hall, and I go to find Sonny.
I can hear snoring as I walk past several of the bedrooms on my way to the living room. It seems that everyone is getting rest, not just the house.
It takes me a minute to spot Sonny in the living room. He is lying on the couch very still, his head leaning back, eyes closed.
I walk over and gingerly sit next to him.
His eyes open, and that friendly, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Hey. Couldn’t sleep?”
“Well, I did initially, but then…” I almost say ‘I noticed you were gone,’ but gratefully stop myself.
My siblings’ words earlier are still echoing in my head.
I try to sound light. “I guess my sleep is all off schedule. I can really feel it when I don’t get regular sleep.
The late nights and lack of sleep are for the party people and people who waste their off time playing video games. ”
Sonny visibly stiffens. Quietly, he says, “Playing video games isn’t necessarily a waste of time.”
I shrug, doubling down. “I mean, do you think it’s okay to cast aside your girlfriend to play video games all night with some girl you eventually go see in Puerto Rico?”
Sonny’s jaw tightens. “You can see you’re projecting, right? That’s a very specific scenario. I’m sorry that happened to you, but that doesn’t mean everything related to video games is exactly like your experience with Trevor.”
I just want him to agree with me. I want that same Sonny who had been ready to pounce at dinner to defend me, to tell me that it isn’t my fault that my relationship with Trevor has failed. It was the games, the tramp, or anything else. Instead, he is defending them.
“Well, maybe I am projecting,” I say, crossing my arms. “But I’m not willing to experiment with another gamer to see if there’s an exception.”
Sonny looks down at his hands in his lap as he lets out a sigh. Have I judged him wrongly? I see him as a driven, serious, accomplished man, and I don’t associate any of that with a guy who plays video games.
“Well… I guess that’s all that needs to be said then.” He closes his eyes and leans his head back again.
I lay down on the couch next to him, the silence between us heavier than the storm that is kicking up again outside. I have the horrible feeling that something I had just said has broken something fragile between us.