Chapter 21 The Performance #3
“We should probably get out of the pool,” I mutter.
His hand catches my wrist and slides me toward him.
I shoot him a surprised look as he keeps drawing me in until his mouth is level with my ear.
We’re both holding our breath. I want to put my hands behind his back and around his shoulders and stroke his neck and his hair, but I stay there, frozen, waiting for him to speak.
When he does, I get goose bumps that are impossible to hide.
“I hate that I did something to make you feel awkward, but I hate silences full of things left unsaid even more. You brought it up, so let’s at least set the record straight: It’s a good thing it’s not going to happen again, good thing it didn’t go further, because I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop it.
I was dying to slip my hand into your panties, fuck you with two fingers, climb on top of you and ride you until the walls of the fucking camper fell down and your thighs were dripping.
But good thing we were half asleep, and it was just hormones that made us a little crazy.
That’s the easiest solution, Coco. Otherwise, it would mean the end of ‘you and me’ as we know it. ”
He lets go of me, and I pull back a little so I can see his face. We were so close. I can smell the scent of his cologne mixing with the chlorine in the water.
“That’s it. I’ve said everything I need to say,” he adds. “Do you want to say anything?”
I nod slowly, looking at his lips, the drops of water beading on his perfect chin, his messy wet hair, his incredible nose.
“Good thing,” I mumble. “Because I would’ve been the one wrecking the camper by fucking you so hard. And then…there’s no coming back from that.”
I’m already moving away, with my back to him, panting from the effort of restraining myself, when I hear Gus’s whispering voice.
“Hey…kids…Marín. Let’s go to the motel, dude. Everyone’s gone to sleep already, and if I wait twenty more minutes, you’ll find me asleep in the hammock being eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
“Well, they usually go for the softest parts first,” I trill.
I climb out of the pool edge closest to the part of the fence where he is. He looks me up and down and raises his eyebrows.
“Fuck, Coco. Here you are, straight out of my spank bank.”
“Shut up.” I pretend to laugh.
I avoid Marín’s gaze as we gather up our clothes.
He does his best to pull them on, still soaking wet.
I put on my Converse. We jump the fence again, the other way this time.
I’m dazed. Everything goes by in a flash.
Every movement feels like the headlights of a car driving at night, in the opposite direction, blinding me and making me lose sight of the path.
“Did you catch my stuff?” Marín asks.
Our friend answers by holding up the wallet, the phones, and the room key.
Gus gives me a kiss on the cheek. I say goodbye by holding my fingers up to my forehead, in a kind of salute.
I don’t know why. I think I’ve escaped when Marín comes over, gives me a kiss on the temple, hugs me, even though I’m wet and in my underwear, and says into my ear, “If I lose you, I’ll die. ”
* * *
I guess he wanted to clinch it, I think as I hear the gravel crunching under my feet, already almost back to the motor home.
I guess it was his way of putting out a DO NOT ENTER sign for our own good.
But…I think Blanca’s right. And the only thing I can do is cling to that tiny glimpse of hope: He’s not completely sure. He says no, but…
When I start heading up the steps to the RV, Blanca jumps out and blocks my path with her cigarettes in hand, almost scaring me to death.
“Fuck, you motherfucker,” I pant.
She laughs. “Hey! What happened?”
“I thought you were already asleep.”
“I was in bed, but I couldn’t sleep. So I figured I’d sit out here and smoke a cigarette in case you came back. So spill. What happened?”
I have no idea where to start. I’m tired, a little frustrated, confused.
I can’t figure out which is rising to the top right now, which is the most important.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Blanca raises her eyebrows, but before I even start, she stops me.
“You know what? I’ll wait until tomorrow.
Sleep on it. I’m sure we’ll find a moment alone to talk about it.
For now, just dry off a little before you get in bed or I’ll kill you. ”
We’re back to sharing a bed. I smile and hug her.
“Thanks, Blanqui.”
“For what?”
“For being so good.”
“Ay…” She kisses me on the temple, and her arms squeeze a little tighter. “Nobody’s good, Coco. Or bad. Don’t let life teach you that the hard way. Burn it into your brain. It helps a lot with the people you love.”
My brain is a fucking tortilla, but once I’m (pretty much) dry and in pajamas, I grab my phone. I hear Blanca light her cigarette and move away, I’m guessing on the way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and piss.
I open Instagram, more out of habit than actual interest, and, of course, there it is.
The first thing in my feed is a post from Gus.
The photo is of the ocean. He must have taken it this afternoon.
When I scroll down the app a little with my finger, I’m surprised to see it’s not a poem.
It’s a block of text. That’s not usually Gus’s style…
I was in a rush and I bumped into you. Now you’re everywhere and there’s no way to get rid of you. You talk in songs more than anyone could imagine and you don’t always say what I want to hear.
You live curled up, maybe in your underwear drawer, between memories and urges, caressing my favorite ones, like you could still make me believe that you care what they are.
I find you in every inch of skin your hands caressed. And there are a lot. All of them. You didn’t leave any territory unexplained and unconquered. Every kiss was you planting the flag of the free that was always us loving each other.
You’re here, there, deeper inside and further away. You’re there where my eyes go, there where you think, everywhere I imagine.
You live standing in some lyrics and kneeling in others, drawing a subtle dance of incoherence between wanting and fleeing every time you write your name. Or mine. Or a fistful of words that are saying the same thing.
You crouch in wait to nibble my neck, in case I forget you. You run through my head, lips, chest, and hands every time I think of you and I slip; every time I regret it and yearn for you at the same time.
The door to the camper closes, and I hear Blanca come in slowly, tiptoeing toward the bed. She climbs a couple of the rungs of the ladder, and her head pokes up into the bed; she smiles at me.
“Put your phone down and sleep.”
“Did you see Gus’s poem?” I ask.
“Oof.” I see her roll her eyes as she lies down next to me, grabbing the unzipped sleeping bag we’re using as a blanket, which she meticulously folds at our feet in case it gets chilly. “A poem at this hour?”
“It’s actually more like prose.”
Blanca turns and studies me. “What’s bugging you about it?”
I think about it a little. What is bugging me? “Actually, nothing.”
“Wanna know what I think?” she whispers. “It worries you that it doesn’t worry you.”
I think about it for a second and nod.
“Okay, good night,” she says. “Tomorrow will be another day, and you’ll see everything much more clearly. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Don’t think about it. Sleep.”
“Good night.”
She settles down and closes her eyes right away, but I still lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to decipher who she is, the woman who managed to get Gus to say, “I miss you.”