16. When Dahlia Met Alyssa
16
WHEN DAHLIA MET ALYSSA
Dahlia
The Past
Barcelona, Spain
B arcelona is beautiful in September.
In fact, I think fall is my favorite time of year here.
Today the weather dropped below 80 degrees for the first time in months and I have never enjoyed being out in the sun so much. BIS’s campus looks plucked straight from a medieval fairytale, beautiful stone structures under a glistening Mediterranean sun. Out in the main courtyard where the cloister halls connect most corners of the massive campus, vibrant green vines creep around the tall columns of the colonnade and flowers bloom along the peaked arches. There’s a water fountain in the center and a pair of citrus trees students like to sit under for the shade.
Columbia was an amazing campus but I’m not sure it measures up to a monastery turned university.
Beni struggles to keep up with me, dodging bustling college students like bullets. “How do you walk so fast with that thing?”
“I’m a New Yorker.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes it is,” I reply, “Besides, Pedro usually keeps up with me just fine.”
Beni comes to a staggering halt, jaw unhinged, hand over his heart. “I’m offended you’d even say that.”
I roll my eyes, refusing to lose momentum. “It was a joke, B.”
“Was not! I get reassigned for a few measly weeks and already I’m being compared to my subpar replacement!”
I laugh without meaning to. “I thought you and Pedro were gossip buddies?”
“Not anymore. Clearly that backstabbing Judas can’t be trusted. At least I didn’t let you walk into a burning building alone.”
“To be fair, neither did Pedro.” My pace slows momentarily as I look over at him. “Maybe don’t make a joke like that in front of Alex. He’s still really upset about the whole thing.”
So much so that poor Pedro has taken more than one verbal berating over it. Last week I heard Alejandro tell Pedro that as soon as Beni was back from assignment, he’d be relegated to the graveyard shift until further notice. A shameful demotion for someone who’s served this family as long and as faithfully as Pedro has. Rodrigo and Paco, the youngest of the guards, usually watch the house at night, which is why I interact with them the least. Since Manuel was killed, I’ve noticed Mauricio around the house more often. Then again, I really don’t pay much attention to the security detail. It’s hard to keep track of them when they go out on assignment and someone else takes their place.
“Whatever you say, jefecita.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and swaggers along. “Whatever you say…”
This afternoon, I have a doctor’s appointment to get this stupid boot off. God, I can’t wait to be a free woman again. I’m grateful my ankle has healed but not more than I am desperate to be free of this five-pound monstrosity. If Beni thinks I’m tough to keep up with now, Heaven help him next week.
My last class of the day is on the other side of campus and I need to grab something from the library before they close for lunch. Otherwise, I’m screwed. These Catalonians take their siesta breaks very seriously and I learned my lesson the hard way the first week of class. Get places before the midday break or be prepared to wait several hours. The Caribbean girl in me understands punctuality is subjective but the American in me wants things done immediately and with haste.
I barrel around the next corner, too focused on the list of readings in my hand to realize someone’s right in front of me. We collide with enough force to send me flat on my ass and the other person topples forward, having tripped on the unleveled stone surface and landing on their hands and knees.
“Are you okay!”
“I’m so sorry!”
Our voices overlap and Beni catches up less than a second later. He kneels beside me and wraps an arm around my waist to help me up but I remain nailed in place.
“Alyssa?”
Too busy gathering up her things to notice at first, it takes her a second to lift her head and when she does, recognition colors her features. Books forgotten she replies, “Dahlia?” almost as if she doubts I’m really here.
In an instant, we start talking over each other.
“What are you doing in Spain?”
“Oh my God, you go to BIS, how?—”
“What do you mean me? What about you?—”
“And your place at Marcia’s?”
“Still there. How are your?—”
“Married, old, still driving me crazy. Who are you?—”
“Boyfriend, long story?—”
“Ladies!” Beni interjects. “Might we continue this conversation in an upright position?”
“Oh.” Lyss blinks a few times and hurries to gather her things. “Right.”
Beni picks up one of her books and hands it to her before gathering up my papers and bag. There’s a moment where Lyss and I make eye contact, a little hesitant on what to do. However, the second she steps forward, I meet her there and when she hugs me, I do my best to hug her back but it’s impossible. No one hugs like Lyss. She puts her all into it—every ounce of strength, every emotion, every drop of contentment.
It’s the kind of hug only a best friend can give.
“ S o, um…” Lyss’s nose crinkles as her gaze drifts over to Beni. “Who’s that?”
“Bodyguard,” I murmur around a bite full of xuixo. “Long story.”
“Hm,” she hums in response but doesn’t comment on it again.
She takes her time dipping her tea bag into her cup of hot water and without counting, I know she’s done it approximately twenty-five times. She’s always had a problem with numbers, if they aren’t even or perfectly divisible by five, it irritates her. And she still takes her tea the same she did when we were kids. That is to say, she drowns the hot water in sweetener until it’s more sugar or honey than tea. Today, it’s sugar but I can still smell the faint hint of mint.
The weather has been beautiful all day, sunny and clear, so we found a small café close to campus and are enjoying our late afternoon snack out in the sun. Beni still keeps a watchful eye but from where the car is parked across the street. I appreciate the privacy he gives me especially since Alejandro was very clear about keeping him attached at the hip.
“How did you end up at BIS?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
“It’s my senior year and I decided to do a semester abroad while I still had the chance.”
“Your bachelor's, right?”
She nods. “Yeah, I had to take a break for a while after Dad?—”
Lyss cuts herself off. I can tell she’s wondering how much she should divulge or if she should say anything at all. I decide to save her the trouble.
“I was really sorry to hear about Ronan…” I hesitate. “How’s he doing?”
She picks up her spoon and starts dumping sugar into her teacup again. Lyss turns her head to take in the scenery, the sun glistening like a halo behind her auburn hair making it look copper. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in years. All at once she looks exactly the same and not at all. I hardly recognize her as the girl I sat next to every year in elementary school or the pre-teens we later grew into, with braces and bad haircuts. Nor does she look like the teenager I remember, freckle-faced and lovely, still growing into her figure and insecure about what she looked like compared to other girls.
We’re adults now. No one tells you how strange that is…to be an adult with the people you shared your girlhood with.
On the inside, I feel exactly the same and the only reminder that we aren’t twelve years old anymore is the reflection of maturity in her face. Lyss is a woman now and so am I.
How very strange.
“Early onset dementia. Very early.” She looks down at her tea and finally takes a sip. “We found out around two years ago and as soon as we did, I dropped out of Stanford and moved back home. My brothers are eternally useless and I couldn’t let Mom drown on her own.”
A pause and then she continues.
“It took a bit for me to get back on my feet. I was able to transfer to Fordham and it took longer than I expected but my five-year plan went out the window with Dad’s health.”
“How is he now?”
“Shockingly well. Doctors say he’s kind of a miracle. The disease is progressing at an almost snail-like pace. His long-term memory is intact and even though he occasionally has trouble with the short-term, he does a good job of keeping track of things. He records himself on his phone throughout the day and then writes it all down in a journal at night.” She manages a smile. “One thing I will say is he curses a lot more in Gaelic than he used to.”
I laugh. “Is that so?”
“And the accent is stronger too. I swear, he sounds more Irish now than he did when he lived in Ireland. Funny how the mind works.”
“And your mom?”
“Still loud, still difficult, still trying to set me up with a nice Italian boy.”
“Your cousin Guiseppe’s stepbrother is hot. I’ve always told you to go for it.”
Lyss laughs so abruptly, hot tea almost shoots out of her nose. “Oh my God, you don’t know!”
“Know what?”
“About Marco!”
“No! I don’t live in New York anymore, remember! Gossip is on a delay here.”
Lyss regales me with tales from home—about how Marco is actually gay and almost married a woman he got pregnant, which confused the Hell out of the entire family. She tells me about our old childhood friends, how they are, where they ended up, and why. Many of our former archnemeses went to nursing school and are either engaged to police officers or paramedics with the exception of Hannah Beck whose fiancé just cheated on her. Neither of us feels any sympathy because she was a slut-shaming bitch in high school who ended up sleeping with a teacher anyway.
Sparing her the gory details, I tell her how I ended up in Barcelona. How Alejandro and I met, what happened after I went home last summer, and how a year later I’m here, sharing a home and a life with him. Only now does it occur to me how much has changed in the last year and how profoundly different my life is from what I always pictured. Beni comes up in conversation again and I make up some excuse about Alejandro’s family being very rich and very paranoid and how I don’t mind it at all.
Lyss knows me too well to take what I say at face value but she doesn’t probe, and I’m grateful.
“I bumped into Marcia over the summer. She told me you’d moved to Spain but she was in a rush and we didn’t talk much about it.” Teacup now empty, she runs her finger around the rim. “I…I thought about calling you. But I wasn’t sure if your number was still the same.”
“My number has never changed.” I say and I almost expect the conversation to end here.
It doesn’t.
“Look I…when everything happened…” She moves to the edge of her seat, teacup abandoned. “I didn’t expect it to affect our friendship the way it did. I never meant to hurt you.”
Ah, yes. The topic I’ve been secretly dreading from the moment we bumped into each other on campus. Why I haven’t been able to fully ease into this conversation as well as her.
“Alyssa, you went to Stanford. Without me,” I tell her. “We were supposed to go to Columbia together and at the last minute, you changed your mind.”
“You could’ve gone to Stanford too?—”
“How? With what money? What co-signer for a student loan?” I sit up in my seat. “I couldn’t afford to dorm out there and keep my apartment at Marcia’s. What was I going to do at a college on the other side of the country with no job to fall back on?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t make me guilty for doing what I thought was best for me at the time. I had always dreamed of living in California and you knew?—”
“Yes, but we made the decision to go to Columbia together and you fucking abandoned me!”
The sharp spike in my voice surprises even me. Beni’s head whips around and he looks like he’s about to step out of the car but I give a little shake of the head. He settles back in his seat, only this time, he doesn’t take his eyes off us.
Lyss whispers, “I didn’t mean to abandon you.”
“Well, you did!” I snap and even the anger in my voice can’t hide the way it cracks. “If you had just…if you had told me the truth. I could’ve prepared for it. I’d have been angry at first, yes, but I wouldn’t have felt as betrayed as I did the moment I found out. And from Becca Pugh of all people, she was just dying to rub it in my face.”
“Really? Becca Pugh?”
“I don’t care, she was mean to me all of sophomore year because her boyfriend had a crush on me, and I still hate her!”
Lyss tucks an auburn curl behind her ear. “Dahlia, I didn’t say anything because I was afraid. For Christ’s sake, I was seventeen years old, about to make the biggest decision of my life. And yes. At the last minute, I switched and didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to be convinced otherwise. Not by you, my parents, or anyone. I wanted it to be a choice I made for myself after a lifetime of letting other people choose for me.
“Of course I wanted us to stay together. But Columbia was never my dream; it was yours. I was sick of New York, of the neighborhood, of my family. Everything. I wanted to see what it would be like on my own for once. To figure out who I was without other people influencing my decisions. Things didn’t work out and Dad got sick so I went home. That’s just life. But I don’t regret going and I most certainly am not going to apologize for doing what was best for me. I just wish I didn’t have to lose you in the process.”
“You didn’t. You chose to. I was never angry at you for choosing Stanford. I was angry because you left and didn’t tell me,” I say. “If I had known you were going to Stanford, I’d have chosen a different college. I would’ve gone to Princeton and moved in with Karina’s parents in Jersey. I would’ve never stayed by myself in New York those four years. That’s the part you don’t understand and never did.”
“Well, I’m trying to understand now. I’m sorry .” Her voice catches and she holds her breath. “I really am. Maybe I should’ve been better about expressing how I felt but I never meant to hurt you. We’ve known each other all our lives and it had never occurred to me we wouldn’t be together in college. It was hard. It was really, really hard not having my best friend with me. But it forced me to grow and become a more independent, self-sufficient person. You wouldn’t know what that’s like. You’ve always known exactly who you are, Dahlia. From when we were kids in elementary school, you’ve dominated life at every turn, navigating things with ease. You’ve never needed anyone, Dahlia. And you have no idea how much I envied you for it.
“I wanted the opportunity to test my own limits and figure out what I’m capable of without helicopter parents or overbearing brothers. As fucked up as it sounds, I wanted to try my hand at being you . I’m not asking you to forgive me but I am asking you to try and understand. Because I’ve really missed you the last few years and I don’t want us to leave this table and have it be the last time we see each other.”
A heart-to-heart with my ex-childhood best friend was unexpected to say the least. Lyss, like many other people from my past life, is a wound which never quite healed. In fact, my falling out with Lyss was what prompted my yearly trips with Karina in the first place. Since then, our outings were an unconscious distraction from the loss of Lyss in my life. I don’t have siblings and my parents are out of the picture.
I was practically raised in Lyss’s house. On a number of occasions after Mom died, Dad would show up to Lyss’s place looking for me, and I’d be in either one of three places—at the dinner table, in Lyss’s room, or in the living room, absolutely annihilating her dad in a game of Mario Kart .
Karina and I were always close, especially for cousins with an age gap like ours, but we were never as close as we were in the years after Lyss and I fell out. I realize now maybe I was supplementing one relationship for the other this whole time, expecting from Karina the attention and love I once got from my former friendship. And I wonder if this is any way to live.
Begging to be loved by anyone who’s willing because the people whose job it was to do so unconditionally never gave you what you needed.
I wish I knew how to answer her only I think I’ve uncovered something that goes much deeper than teenage friendships gone sour.
“I, um…” I glance at the time on my phone and notice I’m running late for my appointment. “I’m really sorry. I’m late for my appointment; I’m getting my boot off today.”
“Right...right, of course.” She dabs under her eyes quickly and pushes out her chair. “I’ll get the tab, don’t worry.”
“No, I?—”
“It’s fine.” She stands and gives me a tight-lipped smile. “I owe you a few years’ worth of coffee dates anyway.”
I grab my phone and am about to leave when something stops me. At the last second, I turn and throw my arms around her, squeezing tightly.
“I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other, either,” I say quietly.
Lyss holds on, giving a short nod. “I hope you know, you never stopped being my best friend.”
“Yeah…me too.”