Stargazing with You

3. Columbia University

Chapter 3

Columbia University

First Year

A paper bag plopped down in front of me on top of my statistics textbook. My belongings were haphazardly arranged on the table before me. I had been parked in this corner of the Butt for hours, only moving to get a refill of my coffee from the cafe or to pee. I reached for the bag, peering inside to see the largest, flakiest chocolate croissant I had ever laid eyes upon. It smelled heavenly . I lifted it to my lips and took a bite. An involuntary groan escaped my lips, loud enough that a few eyes from nearby tables darted over to me.

“ You are a saint, Javier Valenzuela. A god among men,” I gushed. “This is the best croissant I’ve ever had in my life. And I’ve been to France.”

“I waited in line for two hours for that pastry. It’s from the new bakery downtown that’s getting all the buzz,” he said.

“You are insane!” I took another two bites. “But your insanity is my gain. This is amazing.”

I was halfway through the croissant when I added, “ How do you have time to wait in line downtown for two hours? Am I the only one who has midterms this week?”

I had delivered a midterm essay this morning to my professor for Contemporary Civilizations, sat for my French midterm the day prior, and I had a statistics exam the following day. And from my generally disheveled appearance, it was clear that I hadn’t escaped from the library much in the last week. Javi, on the other hand, was clean and unruffled. He had joined me, here and there, for study sessions, usually bringing me a coffee or a food item when he did. But unlike me, Javi never spent more than an hour or two at a time trapped within the stone prison walls of the Butt.

I liked to think that in the six months since I met Javi, I had acted as a good influence on him. He, of course, was quite the influence on me.

Somehow, in just a short time, we had left our mark on every corner of this city, even to the outer boroughs. I showed him around the parts of the city I knew best—the upper east and west sides, Central Park, the east village, Brooklyn and Queens. And he made sure we saw every other inch of the city that I didn’t know as well. We took the Staten Island Ferry and visited Ellis Island. We saw more museums than even I knew existed in New York City. We saw the classics—The Museum of Natural History, The Guggenheim, and MoMA, of course—but also the Frick, the Transit Museum, the Museum of Sex.

We waited in line for and tried whatever trendy food was making news that week. We got lottery tickets to three more Broadway shows after seeing The Book of Mormon . Every time I thought we had seen it all, Javi came up with a new list of things he wanted to do and places he wanted to see. And New York was happy to provide him fresh new distractions each time. Even though I had lived here for years, seeing Javi fall in love with my city made me fall in love with it all over again.

I, in turn, got Javi to sit down with a book once in a blue moon. I made him use his monthly stipend in the dining halls before the credit expired. I took him grocery shopping, so he wouldn’t need to venture out for every snack and meal. I taught him the joys of an evening in, watching movies in our dorm rooms with a bowl of popcorn. I liked to think that we balanced each other well as friends.

Every time we had an exam, we got a milkshake from Tom’s the night before. It was our tradition. And we frequently ended our evenings lying atop the roof of Butler, scanning the faded stars above, talking until we could barely keep our eyes open. We talked about our families. We recounted bad dates we went on with people we met from school. Javi would regale me with dozens of his brilliant ideas. He had a mind unlike anyone I had ever met. He was constantly thinking of inventions and experiments. I was convinced that he was Da Vinci reincarnated, and I never got sick of hearing his mind at work.

Javi fell into the armchair across from mine.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

I looked at him over my half croissant, concerned. Javi rarely sounded so serious.

“Okay,” I said. “What’s up?”

“What are your plans for spring break?” he asked.

I smirked, relieved that the topic of the discussion did not match the tone. “I can’t even think about spring break until I get through midterms this week.”

“You’re not going anywhere with your parents?” he asked, and I feigned gagging on my bite of croissant.

“Actually, I planned on doing anything but spending time with my parents,” I informed him. “They’re going to Aruba that week. ”

“You’re not going with them?” he asked.

“God, no,” I retorted. “A week on a cruise ship with my parents? Stuck in forced proximity with my father, my only means of escape jumping into the sea? No, thank you.”

He looked away from me. Javi was always direct, especially with me. Being evasive wasn’t in his nature. I could tell he was nervous, uneasy.

“What’s up, Javi? Why do you want to know what I’m doing for spring break? I have no plans other than becoming one with my bed and reading a couple romance novels.”

“I’m going home for the break,” he said.

“Great,” I said. “I’m sure it will be nice to see your family.”

“I was wondering if you might come with me?” he finally asked after a loaded pause.

I stopped everything that I was doing, putting my croissant down and shutting my textbook with a slap of the smooth pages.

“Go... with you? To Corpus Christi?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, more assuredly. “Come with me to Corpus Christi.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I looked at him, a little dumbfounded. Though I had long been curious about meeting the people who had raised Javi, I never thought in a million years that he might invite me home to Texas to do so.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said. “But when I went back home for the winter break, I was miserable. I love my family more than anything, but being back home reminded me of everything that went down last summer. I felt trapped in the house, like I was going to run into my high school friends everywhere I went. So, I never went out. I was on edge the whole time, wondering if someone would bring up Sofia. Hoping half the time that someone would bring up Sofia so I could figure out what she was doing or if she was okay. I had to fight not to lose all willpower and call her, even though I knew it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I was a wreck. My whole family noticed. I made everyone else miserable. Not even my nieces or nephews could stand me. And I wondered, if you came… maybe things could be different.”

I blinked at him for several long seconds. Of the two of us, Javi was generally the more composed one. He was the one who had, time and time again, pulled me up off the floor of my anxiety before tests. He was the one who knew exactly what to do and say when I needed him. And for once in our friendship, I felt as if he was the one who needed me.

“Of course,” I said. “I’m there.”

He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

One week later, we took a cab together to JFK and boarded a plane to his hometown. When I had asked my mom for the cost of the airfare, she had balked a little, not over the price but the destination— Texas? For your first spring break? Are you sure you don’t want me to get you guys a place in Cabo ? But I declined, asking only for the ticket to Corpus Christi.

As our plane descended over the glistening blue water, Javi fidgeted beside me. I couldn’t tell if he was more excited or anxious, or an equal mix of both.

After we had collected our bags, we walked out the sliding glass doors, the warm, humid Texas air meeting us like a welcoming hug. It was wildly different than the crisp, cool air of NYC when we left. Winter had clung to the city well into March, the last snow shower falling only a week before.

Javi waved as an old black SUV approached. The woman in the passenger seat launched herself from the car before it had even come to a full stop.

“ Mi hijo ! Welcome home!” Javi’s mother swept him up in a bone-crushing hug—indeed, I thought I did hear bones in his back cracking beneath the pressure. But I soon found myself in those same strong arms as his mother drew me into the hug as well.

"And you must be Diana. We have heard so much about you!"

"It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Valenzuela," I laughed in her soft, warm arms.

"Please, call me Alba," she insisted. Javi’s father emerged from the driver’s side. He was a man with kind eyes—Javi’s eyes, I realized—and deep-set wrinkles in his tan face.

"Welcome to our home, Diana," he said. "We’re so glad you’re here."

Javi’s father loaded our bags into the back of the car, and we made the drive back to Javi’s childhood home. Screams of laughter and a wave of amazing smells greeted us as soon as we walked in the door. Three young girls and two boys, the youngest boy barely big enough to toddle clumsily after the others, were screaming and chasing each other through the house. Three women, who must be Javi’s sisters, were drifting between the kitchen and living room. Their husbands were perched on the couch watching the TV, every now and then either verbally or physically intercepting a fight between the children.

Javi introduced me to the whole lot, and each one of them eagerly embraced me. They enveloped me in the chaos of their family as if I had always belonged there.

The next few days, we spent our mornings entertaining the nieces and nephews with games, a trip to the aquarium, and dips in the pool. Afternoons were spent helping at the restaurant, and evenings were spent sharing stories and laughter around the dinner table. The food was as amazing as I always dreamed it would be.

After dinner on the third night, Javi and I went to the beach alone, taking the opportunity for a few moments of quiet, away from the house and his bustling family. The setting sun reflected off the water with a kaleidoscope of gold and pink and orange as we walked barefoot along the shore, our shoes in hand.

"I’m glad you came," Javi said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us.

"Me too," I replied, my voice soft. "Your family is amazing."

He smiled. "They really like you."

"I like them too. It’s nice to be around a family that’s so... normal," I said, then quickly added, "Not that my family isn’t normal, but you know..."

Javi chuckled. "I get it. We’re pretty close. Sometimes it can be overwhelming, but it’s home."

The contrast between our families could not have been more glaring in my mind. Javi’s parents were completely in love with each other and not afraid to show it—they constantly displayed their affection for each other in little glances and touches and whispered terms of endearment. My parents, at least from the outside, often looked like they could just as easily be business partners as husband and wife. My family home was always immaculately clean, as if a lifestyle magazine was about to stop by for a photo shoot at any time. Javi’s family home was chaotic, in a warm, lived-in way that I adored. It was clear from Javi’s interactions with his parents and siblings that there were no secrets, no tensions between them. I struggled to talk to my own father in the rare hours when he was home from the hospital. I was much closer to my mom, but even that felt strained whenever my father was around.

We walked in silence for a while, the waves gently lapping at our feet. I looked over at Javi, his profile silhouetted against the setting sun.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how my parents started the restaurant?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think you did,” I replied.

“Well, my mom and her brother, my Tio Arturo, crossed the border when they were barely teenagers. They had some family who lived here already. They got jobs in the original restaurant, as a waitress and a busboy. My dad was a line cook at the time. For my mom and dad, it was love at first sight. They got married the second they were both eighteen. My dad was born here, so my mom got citizenship after that.”

I stayed quiet, sensing there was more to the story.

“My uncle, though. He never could find a way. He lived in fear every day of his life of getting deported, of being stolen away from his family here. And it was a problem, because he was sick. He had epilepsy, from childhood, but he would never see a doctor. Never get the medicines he needed.”

Javi stopped and looked out at the water as the sun disappeared beyond the edge of the horizon.

“Years went by, and he still was too stubborn to get help. My parents had my sisters and me. My parents and my uncle took over ownership of the restaurant. One night, I was sick with the flu, and my uncle told my parents to head home early to take care of me. He offered to close the restaurant after everyone had left.

My parents got there the next day to open the restaurant and found my tio on the floor. He had seized, but they think he never came out of it. And no one was there to help.”

My eyes went wide with shock. “Oh, Javi. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.”

Javi shrugged sadly. “It was a long time ago. But I still think about it all the time. I know it’s ridiculous to blame myself, but sometimes I think, if I hadn’t had the flu, maybe he’d still be alive today.”

I threw my arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight to me. “You can’t think like that. Of course, it isn’t your fault.”

“Deep down, I know that,” he said. He smiled at me as I pulled away to look at him. “But I do think about him a lot. I want to create something— a device, like a little EEG to detect seizure activity. Something someone can wear, so no one has to go through what my family had to go through.”

His voice took on that same, familiar wistful tone that it did whenever he was dreaming and inventing out loud. Javi’s mind was a constant churning factory for new ideas, but this one felt different. This one felt exceedingly personal, and I knew somehow that he had been holding onto this idea in his heart, waiting for the right moment to share it with me. And this was that moment—on this beautiful beach, in his hometown, after I had been given the opportunity to meet the people that made him who he was. I felt honored that he had shared it with me. But I knew that, even though Javi constantly came up with new ideas, he rarely sat with one idea for long; rarely thought of a plan to see his ideas through. But this was the one he needed to see through.

“I think this is the one, Javi. I think this is the invention you should make. It’s worth something. When we get back to school, I think you should start working on it for real.” I squeezed his shoulders to emphasize my words.

He grinned. “Thanks, Doc. You know, I think I will.”

We walked along the beach until long after the sun had set.

The rest of the week flew by in a blur of laughter and delicious food. For our last night, Javi’s parents planned a huge barbecue in their backyard to send us off to NYC the next day.

Javi and I volunteered to do the last-minute grocery shopping. The local supermarket was bustling with people stocking up for the weekend, and we searched the aisles with our shopping list in hand. Javi was hefting a bag of charcoal onto his shoulder, when I heard a sound beside us.

There was a soft, “ Oh ,” accompanied by a gasp of surprise and a sudden crash. Seeing the girl beside us had dropped her basket of items, various groceries scattering in all directions away from her, Javi dropped the bag of charcoal into our basket and sprang to help her.

“Here, let me—” he began, but his words were suddenly cut off in his throat with an unnatural, strangled sound.

“Javi?” The girl asked, with a mix of surprise and warmth. She was breathtakingly beautiful. She had thick, long, dark hair; full lips; and a sweet, heart-shaped face. Her long, dark lashes were the stuff of mascara ads. And I knew who she was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, without him needing to say anything. His expression of surprise and hurt was more than enough confirmation.

"Sofia," Javi replied, his tone neutral and polite. Without saying anything more, Javi gathered her items and handed her shopping basket back to her. Almost imperceptibly, I noticed Javi flinch, ever so slightly, when their hands touched. It was like she had electrocuted him with the brush of her skin. I felt like an intruder in a private moment. Sofia's gaze flicked to me, then immediately back to Javi, her eyes narrowing.

Javi glanced over at me, his eyes going wide in panic as he pieced together what Sofia must be thinking. “Sofia, this is Diana, she’s?—”

“Already?” she asked, her eyes going watery as she searched his face. “It hasn’t even been a year, and you’re already bringing someone home?”

Javi’s head shook immediately, denying it. “It’s not like that, Sofia, she’s?—”

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised,” she whispered, though I could still hear every word clearly, even from several feet away. I wished desperately that I couldn’t, that I was anywhere else. I flattened my back to the shelves, averting my eyes from them. I wanted to walk away, to give them space, but knew it would be even more awkward if I moved and drew attention to myself.

“You were always so charming. Everyone loves Javier Valenzuela.”

She said it so coldly, like it was a bad thing. I frowned. I supposed I could see how Javi’s natural charm might cause some jealousy issues, but he was also the most fiercely loyal friend I had ever known.

“Sofi, I swear, she’s just a friend?—”

Though I knew the statement to be true, some unpleasant feeling coiled inside me at the sheer force of his denial that we were anything more than friends. As if the alternative, that we were dating, was somehow inconceivable. His protests did nothing to cushion my ego, and it stung more than I cared to admit.

"I should get going,” she said quickly, starting to turn in the other direction. “It was good to see you, Javi. "

He stood watching the spot from which she had retreated for a long time. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, sighing quietly. He turned back to me and grabbed the shopping cart. I trailed after him, unsure what I could say to make the situation better.

We continued our shopping in silence after that, a tension in Javi’s shoulders in the wake of Sofia’s abrupt appearance and just as abrupt disappearance. I cursed our dumb luck that we had run into her. I found myself angry at a girl I had never met for breaking my friend’s heart, and, while it was incredibly selfish to even think, I was angry at her for tarnishing what had otherwise felt like a perfect week.

We didn't speak about her for the entire drive home, and we let the preparations for the party distract us from acknowledging it.

A few hours later, the Valenzuelas’ backyard was filled with the mouth-watering smells of grilling meat, the sound of music, and the chatter of happy voices.

I sat at a picnic table with Gaby, Manuela, and Valeria, listening to them share embarrassing stories about Javi’s childhood.

"He used to be such a bookworm," Gaby said, laughing. "He would spend hours reading and drawing in his room."

"Yeah, and now he’s Mr. Social Butterfly," Manuela added, rolling her eyes. "Always out and about."

Valeria leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She nudged me. "Do you know he once built a robot out of our old vacuum cleaner? Mom was so mad when she found out."

I laughed along with them, picturing a young Javi tinkering with gadgets and making dangerous objects out of household appliances .

"He hasn’t changed much, has he?" I added, smiling.

"Nope," Gaby said, shaking her head. "He has always been a little genius. And a pain in the butt."

Javi walked over, holding a plate filled with delicious-looking food. "Are you all talking about me again?"

"Always," Valeria said, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes and handed me the plate. "Here, I got you all the best stuff."

"Thanks," I said, taking a bite of chicken and savoring the smoky, tangy flavor. "This is amazing."

Javi’s sisters watched him settle into place beside me, and I felt their eyes scrutinizing us, laser focused on our proximity.

“Come on, you two,” Manuela said. “Be real with us. You mean to tell us you’re really not dating?”

We had been staving off subtle hints and good-natured jibes from his family all week. I moved food around on my plate to avoid meeting his sisters’ eyes, blushing furiously. I came here to make Javi feel more at ease. To take the pressure off him. And with the terribly awkward encounter with Sofia still weighing on the back of my mind, I knew the question would only make him feel more uncomfortable.

“We’re just friends,” I insisted.

“Best friends,” he added, smiling gratefully at me.

We both chose to ignore his sisters’ skeptical looks in response.

A few of the Valenzuelas’ friends and extended family members took up instruments and started to play, filling the air with sweet music. Javi’s father strummed a guitar. Valeria bounced up from the picnic table, settling in behind a microphone to sing a melody in beautiful, trilling Spanish .

Javi stood up and extended his hand to me. "Dance with me?"

I looked at him, surprised but delighted. "I’d love to."

He led me to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the yard, where other couples were already swaying to the rhythm. Javi placed one hand on my waist and took my other hand in his, guiding me gracefully across the floor. The music was infectious, and soon we were both laughing and twirling, lost in the music.

"You’re a pretty good dancer," I said, trying to catch my breath.

"So are you," he replied, spinning me around again.

We danced until the band played their final song—a slow, sad tune. I couldn’t understand the lyrics but understood the meaning anyway. I had to fight the light sting of tears in my eyes. I blinked, trying to shake the feeling off. Javi pulled me in close. I leaned against his shoulder, swaying along with him to the music.

“I’m not ready to go back,” I whispered. “I’ve had such a nice time this week. Your family is so wonderful, Javi. I’m going to miss everyone.”

He squeezed me a little tighter to him. He whispered, "We’ll be back. You may not realize it yet, but you’ve been adopted by the Valenzuelas now. You’ll always be welcome here."

I felt a surge of warmth swelling through my chest at the idea. "Thank you, Javi. For everything. For inviting me here. For showing me your world. For telling me about your uncle."

"No, thank you,” he said, his voice earnest. “For being here. For being you."

The last notes of the music drifted into silence, and the crowd began to cheer and clap for the musicians. Javi's arms remained around me, holding on a moment longer than necessary.

"Thank you for the dance," he whispered, his voice sounding suddenly thick with emotion. I searched his face, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Anytime,” I replied, forcing the words to sound casual. My heart thrummed a little uncomfortably in my chest.

After we helped clean up after the party and everyone went home, I lay awake on the Valenzuelas’ couch. I could hear Javi’s soft breathing from the couch across from mine. I could still feel light tingling on my skin where Javi had held me close on the dance floor. And for a moment, in the dark of the night and the safety of my thoughts, I pictured a world where this was my family. Where Javi and I were something more than what we were now. And riding the high of the week we had spent in his childhood home, I couldn't work out which feeling was stronger—wanting to be a part of this family or wanting to feel closer to Javi. Either way, the thought terrified me, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.

I remembered the look on Javi’s face when he had seen Sofia earlier that day. He had looked so pained, staring at the girl he had once loved—probably still loved now. The girl he had assumed he would marry. I thought of how a girl who was once closer to Javi and his family than anyone now made him feel sad and uneasy. How he could barely stand the thought of coming home, knowing he might run into her.

And in that moment, I made a vow to myself in the quiet and the dark: no matter what happened, no matter what fleeting feelings might pass through my mind, I would never let anything get in the way of this friendship. Javi meant too much to me, and now his family meant too much to me. I drifted to sleep, feeling resolved .

The next morning, we packed our bags and said our goodbyes. As Javi’s parents drove us to the airport, Javi and I sat in silence, lost in our thoughts. We hugged his parents goodbye, his mom teary as she squeezed us both tight.

“You come back soon, okay?” she said to me, holding my face in her soft hands. “And take good care of my boy.”

“I will,” I promised.

When we were settled in on the plane a couple of hours later, Javi reached over and squeezed my arm lightly.

“You okay?” he asked. We hadn’t really spoken to each other since leaving the house, other than a few words while navigating through the airport.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling sadly. “Sad to leave.”

“Me too,” he said. “But now that I can be here again and survive it, we can come back whenever you want. Thank you for making home a happy place for me again.”

I linked my elbow in his and squeezed his arm back, “I’ll hold you to that.”

We started to watch a movie together on my iPad, splitting my ear buds so we each had one, but I fell asleep shortly after takeoff. I only woke up when the pilot announced our final descent into JFK. I still had one elbow linked through Javi’s, my head had fallen against his shoulder in sleep. From his steady breathing and the weight of his cheek against the top of my head, I figured he was asleep as well. I closed my eyes again and didn’t stir, letting the bump of the landing twenty minutes later wake him.

We caught a taxi back to school, watching the skyline approach ahead.

Javi said suddenly, “Diana, I’ve been thinking.”

I stole my attention from the skyline and looked at him. “A dangerous pastime.”

He grinned. “I know. But I have been thinking.”

“About what?” I asked .

“About us,” he said. “About our friendship.”

My heart squeezed painfully. I thought back to the night of the barbecue, to dancing and laughing together. I thought of the confusing feelings I ruminated on in the living room of Javi’s childhood home. The vow I made not to ruin what we had. I wondered if his mind had been racing with similar thoughts, after our trip together.

“What about it?” I asked, almost too worried to ask the question. This felt like a turning point for us—like his next words would decide the trajectory of our relationship.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve never had a friend like you, Diana. Someone who understands and supports me like you. Who makes me feel like I can do anything. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” I said quickly, relieved. “You’re my best friend, Javi.”

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “And you’re mine, Diana. I’m grateful for that. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

I reached across the leather seat and squeezed his hand, letting it go shortly after. “You mean a lot to me too, Javi. More than you know.”

We made the journey back to school and the adventures ahead in contented silence.