Chapter 27 A Thousand Reasons…
A Thousand Reasons…
Coco
Marín wakes up before me. When I sit up in bed, I see him next to the window talking on the phone.
I glance at my phone and find a message from my mother telling me to have a good time but be sensible enough at least for the last few days left, but not even maternal warnings can distract me from Marín.
I can tell from his tone that it’s work.
He’s serious but calm. He’s still wearing the cotton shorts he sleeps in, and I know he’s not wearing anything under them.
His back has a perfect cleft in the middle and dimples below. It’s a narrow but sexy back.
Does he want to kiss me? Does he want to as much as I do?
“Thanks so much. I feel better now. I didn’t want to bother her, but I wanted to check how Pilar’s recovery was going. Don’t tell her I called because, well, she needs to rest now and not think about a tour or anything like that. She just needs to…to rest.”
He turns and looks at me. He’s smiling.
“Amazing. Hope she gets better really soon. If you need anything, you can call me on this number. It’s my work phone, but I always have it with me.” He pauses and nods as he comes over to the bed. “Take care.”
He puts his phone down on the nightstand, sits, and pushes the hair off my forehead. That’s always felt more special to me than most kisses; it’s almost involuntary. It’s like reaching out to touch something shiny and you don’t want to tarnish it but it calls to you.
“You were snoring,” he says to me.
I cackle, and so does he. Only we know how to kill the tense vibe so thoroughly. “That’s a lie.”
“No way. You were snoring like a little piglet. It was pretty cute. In your own way.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s seven thirty. You should go get ready.”
“Get ready?”
“Yeah. Aroa’s gonna lose her shit when she finds out you took a nap here, and I’m sure she’ll be looking for any excuse to try to stop us going out tonight. Go stick up for Blanca. You have to. If she wants to go out, we’re going out.”
“I don’t think Aroa’s going to make a scene, Marín.”
“It’s not her style? Well, I don’t think anyone at your gallery would believe that the grimy sneakers you wore to the Izal concert are your most prized possession,” he teases.
“That’s because they don’t know I went to that concert with you.”
“And fifteen other people.” He grins at me. “Seriously, I know it’s a pain, but let’s see if we can try not to ruin what’s left of Blanca’s night.”
I’m about to disagree, but Marín covers my mouth with one hand and kisses it. Our first kiss, but a deferred one.
“Should we meet up at the site at nine? Tell Gus to come back here. If we leave him to his own devices, he’ll keep napping until tomorrow. We’ll take care of dinner.”
“If I have to eat something cremated again, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Woman of little faith… We’ll make up for it.”
“I’ve never had a four-hand massage,” she chuckles. “That would be good payback. With a happy ending.”
“Don’t bust my balls.” He smiles at me as he comes closer to my mouth again. “I’m not jealous, but I don’t like sharing some things.”
“You’re going to have to clear up that confusion you say you have if you want that to mean anything to me. Oh! And…first of all, Anchovy, I’m not a thing. Second of all, shouldn’t I be the one who decides…whether to share or not?”
He smiles. He smiles wide and nods as he looks into my eyes.
I don’t know a lot about love. I’ve never had a relationship longer than a year and a half.
I get sick of them, I get overwhelmed, they get sick of me, I overwhelm them.
I can’t find the mold that fits my idea of a perfect couple, and maybe Marín is right and I’m much weirder than I think, but…
I do know one thing: Stay with the one who loves your independence and knows how to see how important it is to you.
Love someone who isn’t afraid of the strong woman you are.
* * *
I’m floating as I walk back to the site.
I confessed to Marín that he’s the one I’m losing sleep over.
I did it. And he didn’t run in the other direction; he didn’t give me a twenty-minute speech about how our friendship is so important, more important than anything else.
He didn’t throw himself into my arms and beg me to kiss him every day for the rest of my life either, but, come on, this isn’t a romance novel. This is… What is it?
I run into Gus on the way out of the campsite. He has the sleepy face of someone emerging from the hours-long nap he must have taken. When he sees me, he puts his phone in his pocket, kisses my temple, and keeps walking before I even have the chance to say anything.
“Marín’s waiting for you,” I call after him.
“He can’t live without me,” he retorts without turning around, fishing his phone out again.
He seems glum but happy, like someone who knows his reason for smiling so much is about to vanish. I have to admit this is one of the most incredible trips of my life. I hope it is for Blanca too.
Aroa’s sitting on the steps of the camper, and Blanca and Loren seem to be talking to her very seriously.
All three are eating pumpkin seeds and drinking diet sodas.
It might seem like nothing more than an everyday scene, but there’s something intense in the air.
It smells like a “little chat” from where I am, and when they see me, a strange silence spreads over our site.
“Hey…”
“How was your nap?” I ask them.
“Luxurious,” Blanca says. “Although, I think I’m going to need a rigorous medical examination to confirm I’m not dead. I couldn’t wake up.”
“What were you talking about?” I sit in one of the chairs under the awning and grab a handful of seeds.
“We were wondering where you were,” Aroa says.
I don’t miss Loren’s look, which doesn’t seem too thrilled with her question.
“I was taking a walk on the beach.” I show them my feet that I had the clever idea to go get all sandy on the beach before I headed back to the campsite.
I don’t want to make Aroa feel worse, not because I’m scared of her reaction, like Marín thinks, but because she doesn’t need to know the extent of everything that’s happening between us.
I’ll have to tell her at some point, but…
don’t I have the right to experience this magic, like everyone else?
Despite the fact that he’s her ex. This isn’t some crush—it’s love.
I see Aroa relax, and I grab her soda, waving to ask permission to take a sip. She nods. She seems like she feels bad.
“Listen, Coco, I’m sorry I’ve been a little crazy the last few days. I’ve been coming face-to-face with the reality of where Marín and I are, and it’s been kinda hard for me to accept it.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I swallow my worry a little and fake a smile. “I’m sure you’re actually turning the same page yourself, even if you don’t believe it yet.”
“Actually…” She wraps her arms around her knees and tucks her chin onto them. “Actually I think it’s for the best. In a way, I feel like Marín never could have made me happy. He’s never going to put anyone before his sister. Never. You know, Coco? No one.”
I love her, but…she’s a real asshole.
“Well, we should probably get ready for tonight, right?”
* * *
I end up being forced to drag my suitcase out onto the gravel and open it all the way just so I can find anything…
like underwear and a bra that actually match, for example.
Everything is wrinkled and balled up, but I manage to make the only “going out” outfit I packed look decent through persevering and using the blow dryer on full blast in the bathroom.
Aroa has already come out of the Imperial Boozer Cruiser wearing an oversized Smiths shirt like a dress and her shredded ankle booties because she can always be ready in the blink of an eye.
That’s what happens when you’re beautiful, I guess.
Although, the more I think about it, the more the conversation with Blanca keeps popping into my head, the one about her nuances.
She must have some of her own too, I guess.
In the end, I don’t know how they managed to rot our brains so much that we all spend our whole lives wishing we were different.
I’m wearing a black, short-sleeved romper with a matching belt.
On my feet are heeled sandals that Loren told me to pack “just in case.” Blanca lends me her red lipstick and patiently draws my eyeliner on because when I try, I’m so jittery (and out of practice), I end up looking like an Egyptian pharaoh. And it’s not a good look.
The humidity has made my hair go all frizzy, but nothing I can’t fix with a flat iron and the hands of a friend, who has always been more coquettish than me and knows all the tricks. The result is stunning beachy waves, and I let her know by hugging her really hard.
Blanca’s wearing a creamy kimono-style dress with a dark-green-and-dusty-pink pattern on it. Her hair is pulled back in a low pony, and she’s wearing really soft makeup that flatters her big, brown eyes. She seems happy.
“You really feel like going out dancing, huh?”
“What reggaeton can’t fix…” she jokes.
“Listen.” I look around to check that, besides two English ladies and the gang of Germans who are sharing the counter in the communal bathroom with us, there’s no one else around. “What were you talking to Aroa about?”
“Well, you can guess. It seems like she’s seen a little reason.”
“Yeah, besides the little dig that Marín will never prioritize anyone over his sister.”
“In a way, that’s kinda true, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
“Maybe it feels different when you’re in a couple.”
I suck my teeth. “Don’t you be a Bitter Betty too.”
“No, it’s not like that. It’s just that I think it’s best…” She looks at her phone. “They say they’re on the way. Come on, quick: What happened? Because only someone who doesn’t know you would believe the whole beach thing, you liar.”