Chapter 17 More （and Better） Clusterfucks #3
I close my eyes and grab her arm to make her stop apologizing. “That’s not it. Let me talk… I know something that’s going to hurt you, but I think you should know.”
“God.” She runs her hand through her blond hair, and I see her eyes immediately start shining. Brimming with tears. “Marín… What did Marín tell you?”
“I… I’m sorry, Aroa.” I feel so bad. “Marín told me last night that he’s ready to turn the page. He’s given up on your thing. You’re not going to get back together.”
* * *
We take fifteen or twenty minutes before we go back because Loren gets worried and comes to find us. Aroa’s not crying. Aroa is huddled in a ball on one of those markers with the street numbers and running her fingers over her scalp, like it soothes her.
“I knew it. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
She doesn’t say anything else. And now I actually do feel like vomiting.
Loren stands in front of us awkwardly. He doesn’t say anything. He just kneels down in front of Aroa, pulls her hands apart, and looks at her. For a few seconds he doesn’t say anything, like he’s expressing everything he needs to with that look. Finally, he has to add something.
“It’s over. Aroa, it’s over. Let it go. Start fresh. Don’t stay here in a ball. We’re going to destroy Blanca’s bachelorette trip with all this shit. And she has her own shit. Forget it. Love yourself. Deep down, you already knew Marín was done.”
I see Gus walking along a parallel street toward the bathrooms. He doesn’t see us. Maybe I should go after him, ask him about the poem, but I’m scared. The last time I followed him to a bathroom to ask him for an explanation, he went down on me while I was standing up.
We decide to move. Aroa snuffles, takes a deep breath, says through clenched teeth that she’ll do a good job, that Blanca won’t notice a thing.
When we get back to the site, she plasters on a happy, carefree expression…
I don’t know why she doesn’t get more parts.
She’s a great actress. I’d have snot down to my ankles.
Blanca and Marín are talking quietly. I get the feeling Marín is trying to drag what’s happening out of her.
Good luck, dude. That girl doesn’t give anything away.
Something is going on with Blanca and her future husband, and after her blathering on about love last night, it couldn’t be more obvious.
It should bother me that she won’t tell me, especially because I think Loren is up-to-date, but I’ve been so focused on my thing with Marín that… I think I forgot how friendship works.
“What’s going on?” we ask as we walk up. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. He’s giving me hangover cures.” Blanca smiles. “This guy, the teetotaler.”
Marín tips back in his chair and smiles. “Jesus Christ, Blanca, you’re adamantium.”
“Oh my God,” she moans. “Stop worrying so much. We’re on a bachelorette trip.”
Marín doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, and Loren’s flitting around anxiously. He looks at me, he looks at Aroa, and then he jerks his head. I don’t think he wants Marín and Aroa to be too close right now.
“Aroita, can you help me clean up?” I say.
“Wait, I’ll help,” Marín offers.
“No, no. Don’t worry. We’ll do it. You figure out the food.”
We leave them outside submerged in awkward silence, and Aroa and I concentrate on our task.
Plastic plates and spoons in the trash bag.
Some of the coffee cups are still half full.
We put leftovers in the fridge and back in the cupboards.
Diligently. In silence. We take our time, and it might even seem like everything is chill, but I feel like the weight of that silence could fall on top of me and suffocate me.
Marín and I in a bunk at dawn. Gus’s poem.
Blanca’s problems, which nobody seems to know anything about, except maybe Loren.
Aroa’s disappointment about Marín. Gus’s bravado.
“Aroa, talk to me, please. I feel so shitty for telling you.”
“Fuck, no, Coco.” She smiles feebly. “You did the right thing. You were a good friend.”
Yes. So good. Such a good friend that I’ve been dry-humping your ex, who I’m secretly madly in love with. Babe, I love the dude you’re so upset about.
I’m the shittiest friend.
“Come on, Coco. It’s Blanca’s bachelorette party. Let’s turn up.”
* * *
When we come out, we don’t see Loren, Blanca, or Marín.
Gus must be taking a shower. We hear murmurs, and when we look around, we discover them on an empty site opposite.
They don’t see us. Loren and Blanca are talking.
Something’s going on here. Marín’s running his hands through his hair, visibly flummoxed.
“Wait…what’s going on? Is Marín telling everyone he doesn’t love me anymore or what?” Aroa asks, her voice trembling.
“No, Aroa. He’s not the one telling them something.”
Blanca nods, looking at the ground. Loren is talking firmly. Marín seems to be in utter disbelief. What the heck is going on here? My head is about to explode.
When they see us standing outside the RV, they hurry over, fronting like everything’s normal.
“What’s going on?” I ask again, this time much more sullenly.
“Nothing,” Marín answers. “I was telling them that we’d better find a motel for tonight.”
“But…we’re leaving here tomorrow,” I say. “Is it worth the trouble?”
“The camper sleeps six,” Aroa states flatly.
“No, no.” Marín ruffles his hair, still obviously overwhelmed. He looks at me. I look at him.
My ass rubbing against his cock. The stifled moans. Marín’s eyes trail down to my mouth and then my throat. It’s possible they make a stop on my braless breasts under my pajama top.
“We’re leaving. Tell Gus I’ll meet him at the car.” He runs his tongue over his lips and turns back to stare at me. “Last night’s experience…was enough.”
He was awake.