Chapter 3
Yael
You know how the saying goes, news always comes in threes.
First, it was Lenny’s stupid phone call wanting to mend things, you know we’re cousins and all that jazz.
Then the damn fucking flyer with images of tall buildings and chain coffee shops showing us a future of what we could have if we sell our properties.
Now her…
Not that her being back is necessarily bad, but it’s definitely not good either.
Not for me or this damn heart that’s forgotten how to beat since the day she left.
It took every ounce of willpower to rip my eyes from Adriana.
Sure, there’ve been rumors amongst the family that her and my cousin weren’t doing too well and that it was only a matter of time before she came back.
My mom tells me almost weekly how Lenny will cheat on her and brag about it to my uncle.
The thought alone makes me close my hand into a fist picturing Adri at home waiting around.
Oblivious and in love with that mama bicho* who treats her nothing like the queen she is.
I hated him for abandoning my grandma when she needed him the most. I hated him for a number of things—the main one being for taking my heart and stealing my future.
In all honesty, I’m just taken aback. I didn’t expect to see her today.
Not after all this time. It’s been a while since I had the pleasure of seeing her.
And time has only made her even more beautiful than I remember.
My heart thumps wildly inside my chest, my throat dries up, and no matter how much I swallow, I can’t make the pain go away.
My knees turn to jelly as I force myself to stride towards the domino table.
It takes even more encouragement to sit down.
The only consolation is that I have a direct view of the bodega across the street.
The loud clacks of the dominos force me to focus.
My gaze snaps down to the table, the fichas* are all placed over the coqui image I illustrated on it.
The green frog blends perfectly with the platano leaves around it.
The memory of that day comes to the forefront of my mind.
Of course it does. After all, I was with Adri while I sketched it.
It was Adri who I played for the very first time, with only the night sky as our witness.
A shiver runs through me, causing me to shake off my limbs.
I blink and blink. Only for everything to be blurry and out of focus.
Even the voices around me sound distant and muffled.
A tile slams into the surface. Loud and deafening.
“Pay attention,” Manny grumbles, his gaze drifting to the spot where Adri stands.
I force out a smile, and flip him off before staring back down and plucking a two-six, placing it right beneath his six-three.
The tension builds on and off the table.
It’s so thick… I could choke. I try to focus on the intense game going on, waiting for someone to block it, knowing damn well it won’t be me.
I still have too many tiles left in my hand.
“Did you see those flyers about the new construction?” Manny asks, keeping his eyes on the fichas in his hands, which is way less than what I have.
Alex shakes his head, disappointment bleeding into his voice. “Nah, but I don’t know what Lenny is thinking.”
To be honest neither did we.
He blindsided us.
All that bullshit about restoring bridges was just a way to recruit me in convincing our family to sell and jump ship.
If one of the oldest families does it, soon others will.
That was his plan, that much I’m certain of.
Which is why I told him to go fuck himself the moment he brought it up.
I’m the only hope we have, and even that feels like too much responsibility.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I can do much.
It’s not like I got an education, or boat loads of money.
I’m just willing and able. And, even though there’s more pressing matters, all I can think of is that she’s back.
Where I can reach her.
And my hands ache to do just that.
Reach her. I still can’t believe it. She’s across the street, not miles away.
My boys carry on with their conversation, oblivious to the emotional war taking place inside me.
Reason delivering a brutal death to my heart all while they talk about the three things they care about—pussy, money, and weed.
My ears ring, and no amount of shifting in my seat can stop me from drowning in a sea of memories.
Each one is even more painful than the last.
The familiar slam of the ficha has me lifting my gaze just as Manny jumps up, shouting like he just won the championship. “Capicú, papa.”
Making all the guys talk their shit, because they lost.
“Don’t get too happy, papi,” I say flatly, pointing my finger to my temple. “My head wasn’t in the game.”
“Don’t tell me you still sprung on Adri?” Alex asks, before taking a sip of his cold beer. Something twists inside my chest, demanding that I feel it, to acknowledge it, only for me to ignore it.
“Nah,” is all I can muster to say; anything else wouldn’t sell the lie I intend to sell.
“I don’t know, man, you look shook. My guy looked like he saw a ghost,” Manny chimes in, reorganizing the tiles.
Alex chuckles. “Shook? This man looks like he’s about to pass out.”
I glare at my best friend, trying my best to indeed not do exactly that from the shock of it all.
My eyes move rapidly as I watch Manny flip each tile.
Once he’s done placing them face down, he shuffles them with both hands.
The sound from the dominoes drowns out the rush of blood to my ears.
Slowly, I feel myself return to where I’m needed.
Here.
In the game. And not in the past. Now focus, yeah you—you think I’ve been talking to myself, nah.
Keep up. Playing dominoes is easy, so focus.
I’m about to break it down for you. Don’t look at me like that.
Of course I’m talking to you. Focus, mama bicho.
The game is simple. Since there are only three of us, each of us gets five pieces.
The remaining tiles stay put in what is called the boneyard for us to pull from when we have no tiles to match the end of the one in the game.
We play until there’s no tiles left in your hand.
And if you’re playing for points, well… it ends when you reach the goal.
Manny looks across the street, a smile curving his lips. “You mad, bro?”
“Mad?” I scoff, folding my arms above my head. “About what?”
He laughs before downing his beer, white foam clinging to his top lip. “Me beating that ass, Chulo. What else?” As if correcting himself, Manny glances behind him, his lips curling into a shit eating grin. “Ah… ya veo*. You all in your feelings about your cousin’s girl.”
My smile fades from my lips, a scowl taking its place. I shrug. “Nah, I would have to care to get mad.”
Alex laughs loudly, the sound grating on my nerves.
“Bro, stop lying.” He looks at Manny, flexing his thumb my way. “This man was tight. Still is.” He points at my obviously locked jaw. “Look at that shit, he's about to need a molar. Fuck the heart.”
Alex finishes with a deep chuckle that makes me slap him playfully on the side of the head. I grind my teeth, annoyed at the fact that it’s so obvious the effect she still has on me.
They aren’t wrong, but I won’t admit it either.
Forcing myself to focus, I look down at my pieces, grinning at what I’m seeing. I’m the first to move but, of course, before I can,
Ruben’s voice cuts through the song. A classic, “Triste y Vacia,” by Hector Lavoe and Willie Colon. A song I listen to more often than I’d like to admit.
“Shouldn’t you be working instead of playing?” Ruben shouts from across the street, stopping mid-sweep to talk his shit just like he always does.
“I can do both,” I shoot back with a smile. “It’s called multitasking, you should try it.”
I give him a wink before slamming down my first piece, a double six. Just how I like it. The game now favors me, as long as I can keep the momentum. My boys protest loudly, both cursing in Spanish as they look at their own tiles, already calculating how to block a game that started so strongly.
“Chulo, he only knows how to run his mouth,” Alex retorts, slapping my shoulder like he just made the greatest clapback.
“You should learn from me,” Ruben shouts, still standing, shaking his head, already knowing we got the upper hand, and that makes the corner of my lips lift. “I run this mouth straight into sales.”
I laugh out loud, slamming a tile down, before looking up at him. “You talk a big game for someone lacking customers.”
Ruben's eyes go wide at my statement. “Oye a este.”* He points his index finger to his chest. “Loco*, you never have any customers. Your empanadas are too greasy.”
Empanadas, I never understood why Dominicans call it that. Clearly, pastelito is the better option; it just makes sense. Though, I would compromise for Adri. Maybe? We’ll circle back to that. Right now, focus on the game and the words that I’m saying.
You would think after she left me and got with my cousin that I would hate her, resent her, but I don’t.
Despite the years, I still feel the same way I did back when I was a teen.
Time hasn’t made me forget anything. It’s only heightened everything I wish to forget.
Our love is a stain to my soul, impossible to wipe off.
There’s no Yael without his Ciela. And that's the God's honest truth.
“And yours is too dry,” I snap back playfully, biting the urge to laugh. “Like your girl's pussy.”
The table erupts in laughter. Ruben places a hand on his hip, looking so much like his grandfather, just fuller and taller. “Te pasate, man.* Don’t talk about Susana.”