Rule #17
POST-STORM CLEANUP INCLUDES COFFEE, GUILT, AND HARD CONVERSATIONS
SONNY
I wake up on the couch, my neck stiff and my shirt clinging to me in the house’s humid heat. Light is leaking in through the spaces between the boards, casting the room in a grey hue.
Lying next to me, curled into a ball, is Cai.
Her lips are slightly parted, and ringlets of her hair stick to the side of her head, giving her an angelic look.
Her dress is slightly stuck to her body, outlining every curve, and making me think of very unholy things.
I want to scoop her into my arms despite the heat.
I hear a shuffling noise from the kitchen and turn to find Abuela there. She is smiling at me as she gently beckons me over. I quietly stand up and make my way over.
“Buenos días, mi nino!” she says, squeezing my arm.
“Good morning,” I say, guessing that more or less was what she said to me.
“Make coffee. Want?” She gestures to a metal coffee pot on the stove.
“Oh yes, but there’s no power, right?” I ask.
“Is ok. Is gas.” She gestures to the gas burners.
“Nice!” I say, adding a thumbs up.
Abuela starts busying herself with adding grounds and water to the pot.
“Do you think the storm is done?”
Abuela perks up as if listening for something, then nods. “Sí, ya está al final. Soon.”
I nod. These people are like Rain Man for storms. They all seem to read the barometric pressure or see air currents, as evidenced by their behavior.
Abuela lights the pilot with a match and places the coffee pot on the burner. She leans close to watch the flame as she adjusts the heat.
Gas stoves always make me nervous. I take a step back. Abuela clocks it immediately.
“Te da miedo?” she asks, making a scream-like expression to convey her question. She is asking if I am scared.
“Kinda… I think gas stoves are going to blow up and leave me looking like Two Face.” Her expression looks a little confused, so I gesture with my hands to indicate a big explosion.
She understands and begins to laugh, slapping my arm lightly. “?Qué va a explotar! Ay, nino, qué bueno que eres tan guapo.”
I smile politely, not sure what she is saying. She grabs a small cup and gestures to the sugar. I nod, and she begins scooping into the cup.
“After Hurricane, what you do?” She asks in broken English.
I want to say I’ve been trying not to think about it. “Back to work. Back to the usual.”
She hands me the cup filled with strong-smelling coffee and says, “Y Cayetana? Together?”
How am I supposed to answer that? I have no idea. I don’t want this to just be a layover in Miami. I want this to be the start of a whole new adventure, something I didn’t even know I wanted. But once I tell her about me, then it might all come crashing down.
I take a sip of the espresso to buy some time. It hits like rocket fuel. “Wowzer! That is something!”
Abuela beams. “Déjame tu email, I give you how to.”
“You want to email me the recipe? Sure!” I jot it down on a nearby notepad.
Then she starts speaking rapidly in Spanish, looking at me earnestly. “Ya sé que no me entiendes, pero yo sé que El Senor te trajo acá. Ten paciencia con ella y verás que ustedes son únicos el uno para el otro.”
She is looking at me so earnestly, and I try so hard to piece together what she is saying, but it’s useless. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
She sighs. “No importa. Es cosa de vieja.”
“Huh?” I respond, still lost.
“She says it’s not important, old lady stuff,” Cai says, walking into the kitchen.
I turn at the sound of her voice, holding it close, not knowing when the last time would be.
“Good morning,” I say. “Did you catch what she said before that? It sounded important.”
Cai pours herself a cup of coffee and asks Abuela, who waves a hand at her dismissively.
Cai turns to me and shrugs, “Sorry.” Then, leaning against the counter, she asks with a cautious smile, “Did you sleep ok?”
I doubt that is the question she wanted to ask. We both know last night had ended with some tension. “Yeah, not too bad,” I lie.
“I wanted to…” Cai begins, then glances over at Abuela, who starts humming to herself as she begins tidying up.
Still, Cai lowers her voice. “I’m sorry if I insulted you last night when I was generalizing about the type of people who play games.
I got that text, and I was just describing Trevor, not you. ”
There is so much to unpack there. Do I pull on the text thread, the video game, or the boyfriend status in general?
I choose the most important since her relationship status determines how far I’ll take it with her. “Do you want to tell me what the text was about now?”
She sighs and pulls her phone out of her dress pocket. “The rice trick worked. No signal, but you can see for yourself.” She unlocks the phone and hands it to me, with a text on the screen.
Trevor:
LMAO You’re so crazy babe. I’ll talk to you later.
What an ass.
This guy knows what he’s doing. He knows that this response was the only one that will keep her from feeling closure.
“Do you mind if I read the text before this?” I ask.
Cai gives me a slight nod. My eyes skim up to the text she sent him.
Cai
I’m with my family in Miami waiting out the storm.
I just wanted to take the chance to thank you!
Who knows what or who I would’ve missed out on if you hadn’t been such a dick.
If Hurricane Olive hadn’t shifted, if I had chased you.
If you ever grow up and read these, I hope you’re happy and safe and out of the apartment by next month.
I like that she feels she would’ve “missed out” on me, but this is a far cry from a girl over her boyfriend or even ready to move on.
I hand her phone back to her. “So what do you think?” She looks at me, frowning.
“You did more than text him ‘thank you,’” I say, holding back on saying any more.
“Yeah, I know,” she says, looking embarrassed. “I guess I wanted to sound like I was totally fine without him. I thought it would make him feel shitty or something.”
I lean forward and grab her hand, look her in the eyes, and ask her earnestly, “Do you still want to be with him?”
“No! No way, no!”
“Ok then, why didn’t you just text him, ‘bye’, or ‘it’s over’? Or block him back? Why are you stressing over what to reply to this ass? Why are you wasting any energy on him?”
I rubbed the back of my head in frustration. Why can’t she see how amazing she is?
“Well, I don’t have a signal anyway…” Her tone is as flimsy as her argument. I give her a look. “And I want him to tell me why. I want to understand why he left and lied and cheated. Why wasn’t I enough?”
I stepped back. “I thought you were over him. I’m sorry I didn’t understand you were still carrying a torch for him.” I know my words sound bitter, but I can’t keep the hurt out of them.
“I am over him! I don’t want to be with him.”
“If that were true, then the answer to those questions wouldn’t matter.”
“That’s not fair. Am I not supposed to ask questions without being accused of still wanting him?
Besides, why would it matter if I did it already or not?
Why rush the ending? You made it very clear that some men aren’t looking for the long term, so I’m not going to rush into anything; I’m going to get what I can from this failure.
It’s not like I have anything better waiting for me. ”
Abuela has left the kitchen by now, and Cai is openly looking pissed.
She has completely misconstrued what I meant last night.
I had meant that men like Trevor didn’t want long-term, not that I don’t.
Regardless of what we could be, she should be leaving him because he is a terrible person, not because she has something better lined up.
“That’s not… look, you do what you want with him.
I think you deserve better, but who am I?
I’m just a guy who spends his time playing video games and neglected to tell you that.
I know, the biggest fault in the world, and I didn’t disclose it because I wanted so badly to avoid you looking at me like I was that piece of shit boyfriend you’re determined to chase to your own detriment. ”
Her eyes go wide; shock, anger, and hurt all flash across her face. She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it as Rey comes into the kitchen in his typical high spirits.
“Good morning!” he says. “What’s the over/under on the power coming back this morning?”
Neither of us answers. Cai says, “I’m going to go change,” and leaves the kitchen.
Rey looks at me, confused. “Rough morning?” he asks me.
I throw my head back in a sigh. I had been a dick. I had expected her to move on and have feelings for me as strong as the ones I have for her. “It’s my fault. I was in rare form this morning, and I took it out on her.”
“I doubt that,” Rey says, but he doesn’t push any further. “Looks like the rain has stopped. After I make myself some coffee, want to go walk the neighborhood with me? See what the damage is?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” I say. A chance to clear my head and look at potential wreckage not caused by me sounds perfect.
CAI
I get to my room, close the door behind me, and lean against it like it would block out Sonny’s words.
No, I need to hear them and what he hadn’t said as well. He didn’t say that he wanted to be with me or that I should leave Trevor to be with him.
He told me he was a gamer, and he lied. Now, granted, I am probably harsher on gamers than I should be, but given my current boyfriend and the scenario with this girl, I am justified. Still, Sonny hadn’t said how he would be different in that scenario.
Sonny is also pressuring me to put a finality on a relationship I have been in for over a year.
He doesn’t know how long I have worked on it.
I’m not looking to stay with Trevor, but does that mean I should have to end it on Sonny’s terms?
Without asking questions or getting any explanations?
Just cold turkey, cut him out? I am owed some answers!
I go to my duffel and pull out a pair of shorts and a linen top that I almost hadn’t brought because Trevor hates the small star pattern on it. He thinks it looks childish.
In general, Trevor thinks that anything that pins me as bookish or fun is just me trying hard. It’s why my Powerpuff Girl tee became for sleeping in only. Even subtle prints like this were not okay for me to wear when we went out together, lest I embarrass him; the greatest of all sins.
I remember that argument like it was yesterday.
“Why would you want people to know that you’re a nerd? Do you just want the attention?”
That sums up how he manipulates people. He takes something he didn’t like and associates it with traits you would find negative. He makes me feel like he’s doing things for my own good, out of kindness, when the reality was he does it to control.
I look at myself in the dimly lit room mirror now that the early-morning light is filtering through the slits between the boards.
I am trying to see myself through Sonny’s eyes.
I know he looks appreciatively at my thighs, and he seems to share my tastes.
I can practically see the smile and joy in his eyes as he takes me in, with my thighs exposed and my fun star-print shirt.
What am I doing?! Am I seriously risking even the slightest potential with Sonny because of a manipulative asshole like Trevor? So, what if he wants me to move on from Trevor quickly? I should be moving on quickly! I have wasted enough time.
God, I am being so dumb. Maybe I am the drama after all. I run my fingers through my hair, and as if powered by my epiphany, the power whirs back on. “I get it,” I say aloud to the universe. “I realize I was wrong. I see the light.” Then I leave the room to find Sonny and make it right.