Chapter 13 Change of Plans
Change of Plans
Marín
I have to admit that Gus was never one of my favorite people in the world.
He embodies everything we’re sold as what you have to do to be a successful dude, but nothing I would aspire to turning into.
Don’t get me wrong… I admire him. He took his passion and turned it into something that could reach the whole world.
But…let’s be honest: He’s cocky, the classic fuckboy who never wants to compromise, the kind who always has the perfect line some girl won’t be able to get out of her head the rest of the night (or the rest of her life, which I’m scared might be the case with Coco).
He has a cock worthy of a porn star, and most of the time, he acts like one.
He writes poems about love, but he doesn’t want it.
He avoids it, and sometimes, in my opinion, it even pisses him off.
He’s a character from a book, walking around in the street.
A shameless peacock, a big drinker, and even though I don’t think he’s an alcoholic (I know that problem very intimately), he’s on the way to developing an addiction to rough sex.
And a systematic emotional block. One day he’s going to end up on his ass.
But that’s the CliffsNotes version. But knowing him…
Really knowing him gives him other nuances, because the truth is he’s fun, charming, a nutjob, and a good companion.
As guys we can sometimes get all weird about being intense with other guys and talking about the lightness of being, but you can do that with Gus.
Plus, he gives good advice…which I never take.
And he has intense feelings. He feels things like a punch in the gut.
That’s why, this morning, when I had tied up all the loose ends after Noa’s accident and I was left alone in my hotel room, lying down, fully clothed and staring at the ceiling, he popped into my head.
Yesterday, after I texted Coco, I sent him a message describing the whole mess with Noa.
Two seconds later he was calling me to suggest we go join the bachelorette trip.
I told him I’d let him know, that I had to think about it because…
I don’t know, I was scared of just showing up there and messing up the plan.
I thought Coco would scream at the top of her lungs and be tripping over herself to invite me to join Blanca’s bachelorette trip now that I’m off work, but she didn’t.
She pointed out that this was a good time to think about what I want to do.
And that’s a trap because let’s be honest, I should go to my grandparents’, pick up my sister, and take her somewhere, camping just the two of us or to do something fun.
And I want to, but…I also want to be a thirty-year-old dude without family or money worries, at least for four days.
But first I called Gema.
“I’m free. The brat took a tumble yesterday, and she’s with Jesus now.”
“She died?”
“Fuck no.”
“If an artist dies on you, you’ll totally get fired, big bro.”
“You’re always so worried about my emotions. Hey…what should we do?”
“What should we do about what?”
“I’m free, cutie. I’m on vacation. Should we plan something?”
“Aren’t you going to Blanca’s bachelorette party?”
“Do you think I should?”
Gema cracked up.
“I’m the teenager here.”
“Should I go or not? I’d have to play the supercool big brother.”
“Supercool? OMG, you’re super annoying. What are you gonna tell me next, that you invented the wheel?”
“Actually…we’ll have more time for us to do something now that I’m not going to be with Noa on tour. I could… I could do both, you know? Go to Blanca’s bachelorette trip for a few days and then come pick you up and…”
“You could also come pick me up and take me to the bachelorette party with you.”
“You’d be bored stiff,” I lied.
“No way. Coco texted me yesterday and told me I would love it. Take me.”
“No, and that’s my final answer. We’re not going there under any circumstances, Gema.”
“Okay. Then don’t take me,” she grumbled. “But you should go and get your ass wet at the beach. And do something fun… You’re like one of those monks who do scary chants.”
So I called Gus and said we should go. If we both go, the whole gang’ll be there, which is how it should have been from the start.
All of us together, putting any bullshit aside, like my breakup with Aroa and the strange tug-of-war between Gus and Coco.
Our personal shit doesn’t matter; all that matters is us as a group.
Lately I’ve been tormented by the idea that we’re drifting apart, and I feel responsible.
That’s what happens when you go out with someone from the gang for years; when everything ends it affects more than just the two of you.
Gus seemed to be waiting for my call. He didn’t even ask many questions. Just where are we meeting, if I would pick him up at the station, and if I needed anything from Madrid. I was about to ask him to bring me a pair of balls for when Aroa’s insistence breaks mine.
Aroa was the first one to send me a message when she found out we were coming.
AROA:
Dear Marín,
??♂??Let the good times roll! I can’t wait for you to get here…??????♂
I see Gus get off the train with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
He couldn’t have a wheely suitcase like everyone else.
No. He has to put his stuff in that bag that’s so like a hipster New York writer’s.
He’s wearing a worn, dark-gray T-shirt and a pair of skinny black jeans that are a little saggy at the waist. I think Coco will like it.
Shit, Coco…you’re going to get sucked back in by someone who one night you confessed to me was number one on the list of guys who aren’t good for you and in some way I’m going to feel like I caused it.
We head toward each other at the same time, and when he’s in front of me, he throws his bag to the ground and hugs me, slapping me on the back.
“Fuck, Gus, your hugs are like the Heimlich maneuver. One day I’m going to spit out my spleen.”
“You’re such a wimp, ” he quips. “Guys should hug too.”
“Interesting reflection coming from a guy who’s never said, ‘I love you.’”
“I have to my mom. I say it to my mom every day,” he lies easily. He grabs the sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt and puts them on before he leans down and hoists his bag up. “So what? Are we going?”
“Yes, we’re going. On the way you can tell me all about the poetry scene in Williamsburg, you hipster.”
“This is style, not fashion.”
He sweeps his hands up and down his outfit. A few girls are undressing him with their eyes as they pass. He’ll never be an objectively handsome guy, but he’ll never need to.
As I drive to the address Loren sent me, Gus updates me on his projects and tells me stuff about his work routines. “You have to read Kerouac, Marín. You really have to.”
“If Lorenzo were here, he’d shut you up with a punch.”
“I know.” He flashes his imperfect teeth in a wolfish smile. “Remind me to talk about this stuff when I see him. I love getting him all riled up.”
“And provoking Coco,” I slip in there.
I regret it the second I say it because he glances over at me with one eyebrow raised, looking like he’s hesitating, and I would bet he’s a little freaked out by my statement.
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. The poems…”
I actually haven’t read those poems; I don’t know why, but I don’t want to. But if Aroa is so sure he’s writing them for Coco…
“Is this going to be the cliché speech the girl’s older brother gives the delinquent who he thinks is trying to seduce her? Just so I can figure out the shortest answer to your question and be done with all this shit.”
“Are they for Coco?”
“No.”
He says it firmly, but if I’ve learned anything about Gus over the past few years, it’s that he can say no now and believe it to the tips of his toes and then five minutes later his moon will be in Saturn and he’ll cross his heart and swear the answer is yes. He’s a weather vane.
“Sorry, dude. Coco is my best friend, and I’m scared of seeing her get hurt.”
A slightly dry laugh escapes his lips, and I look at him out of the corner of my eye. His foot, sheathed in a grimy black Converse, is propped up on the seat of the rental car (it would be silly to return it early when the company already paid for it), and he’s gazing out the window.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Did you really fall for that too? You believe Coco’s still crazy about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Marín, bro. You know her pretty well. You really think Coco acts like a girl in love around me? Think about it for a second.”
“I don’t know how Coco acts when she’s in love.”
“Me either. She never was with me, and she’s still not.” He lifts his sunglasses enough so I can see his eyes and raises his eyebrows meaningfully.
“Why would she lie about that?”
“I didn’t know she confirmed the rumors herself.”
“Well…” I’m afraid I just spilled the beans, so I hurry to fix it. “She didn’t confirm it. She just didn’t deny it, I guess.”
“Distraction maneuver. Trust me. Coco might sleep with me today, tomorrow, yesterday, but she’s hung up on another guy…or another girl.”
Another…girl?
* * *
We stop to eat lunch halfway. Gus is always hungry, and he always wants fries and a beer. If he keeps going like this, he’s going to become a cautionary tale: young poet dies of heart failure. That would sell a lot of books.
We talk about music, concerts, artists, box sets… Gus isn’t a music lover, but he likes to know what he’s talking about and he’s really into a lot of bands, so he’s been to more gigs than me, and that’s literally my job.
We stretch lunch out as long as we can and take our time with the driving we have left; we want to give everyone else time to get to the campsite and get the RV set up. We should be calling motels, but we take our time with that too.