Twelve
DM EXCHANGE:
@Stephanie: Hey, Angela! Not sure if you saw my comment on your last video, but I’m friends with Natalia Aguilar. I was there when she painted the mural you love so much, actually. It’s a shame they washed it off; it’s one of my favorites of hers too. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out! I’m so invested in your scavenger hunt series. Rooting for you from the sidelines!
@Angela: No way! I fell in love with her portfolio after discovering the mural. Do you think she’d be interested in being part of the scavenger hunt? Or at least having her art play a role in any way possible?
@Stephanie: How do you feel about asking her yourself?
Krystal and I make plans to meet on Wednesday during my lunch hour. I spend nearly two hours getting ready, throwing aside articles of clothing until I finally land on a pair of black slacks and a white T-shirt with the library logo above my left breast. After pulling up my hair in a bun, I’m all set.
Marcela laments over her three back-to-back meetings and the fact that we haven’t been able to get lunch together for over a week. On the bright side, our lack of socializing at work means I’ve had some extra time to catch up on class assignments. I’m weeks ahead on coursework without even meaning to be. I faux cry with her but am secretly glad I don’t have to explain that I wouldn’t be able to get lunch with her anyway because I’m meeting Krystal. Knowing my best friend, she’ll press for details and I would have to tell her Krystal is only helping me with the scavenger hunt, and nothing more.
We decide to meet at a taqueria a couple streets down from work. When I arrive, she’s already seated inside, head bent over her phone, bright blue nails tapping on the table. When she spots me, she rises from her chair and wraps her arms around me in a hug, careful with my injury.
“How’s your shoulder?” is the first thing she asks me as we line up to order.
“Basically fine.” I wave her off. “Same for my knee.”
“I hope you’re not lying so I’ll stop worrying.” She gives me a stern look before turning to order. “Thanks again for buying me lunch,” she says once we’re both done. We take seats across from each other at a table by the window. “Even though I’m not sure how much more help I can be. What are you gonna do about the scavenger hunt?”
“I have some options.”
As bummed as I am about the mural being washed away, I was far more bummed about disappointing the internet. Or at least, this small community of people I’ve cultivated on my TikTok page. I didn’t give many details in my last update, just that there was an unforeseen setback along with a clip I managed to catch of the mural being power-washed off the building.
“A couple hours after posting the video, I got a DM from someone who recognized the mural and claimed to know the artist personally. We don’t have any concrete plans to meet yet, but I’m hopeful we’ll figure out something soon.”
Krystal looks at me curiously. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t want to jinx it. Either way, I’m not giving up yet,” I say. “If I have to go back to square one, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“You’re awfully determined.” Krystal’s eyes settle over me in an assessing gaze.
“You said you’d been following Natalia for a couple of years.” She raises a brow at my rerouting the conversation, but nods nonetheless. “Have you ever talked to her?”
“Yeah. I bought a piece of hers last year. Well, I tried to anyway,” Krystal says. “She’s a bit eccentric.”
“Wait, you’ve met her? In person?”
“When she was still commissioning work, you could pick up orders at her studio if you lived in town. There was a mix-up with the art piece I commissioned from her. She never got around to finding mine, so she refunded me.”
“Oh.” I deflate. “That’s a bummer.”
“It seemed like she was going through something. I didn’t take it badly.” After a pause, she asks, “My turn to ask you a question?” When I nod, she goes on. “Why now, if you don’t mind me asking? Why haven’t you dated anyone until now?”
“I’m hardly dating,” I grumble, sinking low in my seat. Her expression doesn’t change. “I guess it’s partly because I didn’t know how my parents would react to having a queer daughter until last year. The other part was being too scared to evaluate what it is I really want.”
“And now you’ve done some evaluating?”
“Evaluating, soul-searching.” I smirk. “Pish, posh.”
“I get that. It took me a long time to realize I was attracted to women, though I’m not sure it was entirely my fault. There are way too many articles on the internet dedicated to explaining away same-sex attraction, and I was a dedicated Googler in high school.”
“We’d tell ourselves anything to explain it away too,” I say. “Anything to keep us normal, right? Otherwise people might catch on and give you hell for it.”
“Who gave you hell?” Her brows crease as the fillings of her taco start to fall out the other end from how tightly she’s gripping it. “You know I’ll give them hell right back.”
“My cousins,” I admit, taking a beat to consider if this is a story I really want to tell her. “They used to bully me a lot because I hadn’t had my first kiss. The rumor spread like wildfire at our high school and before I knew it, everyone knew. At one point, they started giving my number out to random guys I’d never talked to before. But they’re family, which meant I always had to forgive them no matter how far they went.”
“That’s awful,” she tells me. “Tell me about these cousins. More specifically, where I can find them and teach them a goddamn lesson.”
“You don’t need to defend my honor.” I smirk. “Your righteous anger on my behalf is plenty. Besides, I’d hate to see what you could do to them after watching you mangle that taco.”
“You didn’t deserve your fate,” she says, scooping up the last bit of filling off her plate with a tortilla and popping the last bite into her mouth before cleaning her hands with a napkin. Then she glances at me and her voice takes an ominous tone. “Your cousins, on the other hand…”
I smile and shake my head at her. I kind of like this protective side of Krystal, even if it comes at the expense of her lunch.
“Do you still talk to them?” she asks.
“Here and there.” I shrug. “They think I’m making it all up for attention because of an elaborate lie I told them the summer after high school.”
“So they’re still assholes, then.”
“It’s my fault for lying in the first place,” I say. “And it was based on a half-truth. I went on a date with this guy who had a crush on me and tried to reciprocate his feelings. It never felt right, though. As soon as he tried to kiss me, I knew I’d made a mistake. It wasn’t what I wanted, and when I tried to tell him that, he yelled at me for leading him on. I was so embarrassed. My parents were right on the other side of the door and heard the whole thing. When my dad asked me what happened, I burst into tears on the spot.” I try and wave off the memory with a light laugh, but Krystal’s horrified expression lodges it in the back of my throat.
“Angela.” She stares at me for a moment, a flurry of emotion I can’t read in her eyes. “High school was hell for you, wasn’t it?”
“Understatement of the year.” I say it casually, but the memory still stings. “It was years ago. He was a complete jerk about it, but he was kind of right. We shouldn’t have gone out. I went about it the wrong way—”
“Stop.” She places a hand over mine, her voice determined. “Don’t you dare try to put the blame on yourself. If he acted that way, he’s the one in the wrong. You didn’t deserve any of that. And I want to strangle your cousins with my bare hands.”
“Thanks, Krystal.” She squeezes my hand tighter, and I let out a deep breath that deflates the tension in my shoulders. It’s like her touch is anchoring me to the table, to this conversation, giving me the courage to keep going. “I only wish I was able to figure all this stuff out sooner. Sometimes I think if I knew myself better back then, I could’ve solved all my problems.”
“I get that. Believe me.” Her thumb has started to trace circles on my wrist. A shiver runs down my spine, and I try to gauge my body’s reaction to her touch. The sensation isn’t nearly as strong as her warm breath on the back of my neck, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some definite… stirring going on.
“I didn’t come out as bisexual until three years ago,” she continues. “I was already an adult and dating a man at the time. I almost didn’t see the point.”
There are so many tiny details in that one small statement, I almost don’t know which thread to pull first. In the end, I latch on to the most pressing one.
“Was it serious?”
“Serious enough to consider marriage,” she says, laughing derisively. “I thought I loved him. I just… couldn’t see myself married. Even though it was something I tried really hard to convince myself I wanted.”
Wow. This is probably the most Krystal has ever talked about herself. If we’re exchanging confessions, hers comes in the form of a bombshell.
She was almost married.
“What happened?” I ask, ignoring the jump in my pulse. If she moves her thumb a fraction of an inch down my wrist, she’ll feel it too.
“We were engaged for three months before I told him I was having cold feet,” she says. “He took back the ring and we tried to salvage our relationship for six more months before he ended it.”
I note the detail, that he was the one to end things, and wonder if she has any regrets. But it’s not as if I can just come out and ask her.
“I’m still not really sure what I was so scared of,” she continues, looking down at the table. “Why I couldn’t just go through with it. I only know that I’ve never felt more stifled in my life than when I put on that ring.”
“Was it the concept of marriage, or the thought of marriage with him in particular?”
“I’ve asked myself the same question so many times. There was nothing wrong with him. I truly did care about him and was open to sharing a future with him. I’m just not sure that’s the same thing as love.” She shakes her head. “He was a great guy. I should’ve loved him. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
It’s hard to imagine her in the life she’s describing. There’s nothing stifled about the Krystal I know, pouring drinks with a wicked grin, hair undone and as untamed as her soul. I can’t see her wasting so much time trying to salvage a relationship with someone she didn’t love.
I’m not sure what to do with this new information. We’re in such wildly different places—I’ve never been kissed, and she was almost someone’s wife. I’ve never been in her position, not even close, so I’m not sure what to say. I don’t fault her for being unsure. It’s a feeling I’m well accustomed to. The best thing to do in a situation like that is to step back. She did the right thing. I should tell her that.
Instead, what comes out of my mouth is, “Have you ever been in love before?”
For a moment, she looks stunned. She holds my gaze and then shakes her head, smiling ruefully. “No,” she says. “If that relationship taught me anything, it’s that love isn’t really for me.”
Wait, what?
My face must say it all. She lets out a laugh, but there’s no mistaking the edge in it.
“Don’t give me that look, Angela. Some people are meant for love, and others like me just… aren’t.” It’d be easier to believe her if she didn’t sound so defeated. “I’m fine. I promise you.”
“I don’t believe that.” I quickly backtrack, realizing what I said. “About the love thing, not about you not being okay.” Although, maybe she isn’t as okay as she wants me to believe.
“Listen, I know you mean well. Truly.” Krystal squeezes my hand before pulling away. “But I’ve been through this conversation before in a thousand different ways, mostly from people content to talk at me rather than to me. The short version of this story is that I don’t want to put another person through what I put Isaac through.” Isaac. Her ex. “It wouldn’t be fair to them, and I don’t think it’d be fair to me either. Not when I already know what the outcome will be.”
I don’t say anything, not wanting to be another one of those people talking at her. But I don’t understand how she can believe love isn’t for her while actively helping me find it with someone else. All I can do is nod and bite my tongue, holding back any sort of reply that would tell her differently. No matter how much I may want to.