Epilogue
Six Months Later
Bogotá reminds me of Caracas, except much, much bigger, much colder, and infested with pigeons.
People own the most beautiful dogs I’ve ever seen. It’s paradise for the gummy bear lover. The arepas may be plain and lifeless, but at least the bread is amazing. And don’t even get me started on the coffee.
I wish we were having coffee instead of…what is it Simón said he’s making? Chocolate con queso. That’s right. Hot chocolate. With cheese.
In the six months that Simón and I have been together, today is the first time I’ve questioned my decision of dating a Colombiano. And I’m here for three whole months. I haven’t admitted this out loud, but I’m scared. Who knows how many times they’ll force this concoction on me while I’m here?
Maybe I can talk to Miguel and have him change my project to something else, something in México.
Simón and I can have tacos every day. But even as I think about it, I know it’s impossible.
I arrived three days ago to get adjusted, to get used to sleeping in the Airbnb Ethos rented for me, and…
to spend time with my boyfriend before I’m swamped with work?
“The Ex-Perimento (Or How I Fell in Love with a Member of Caballo de Troya—who are now on their way to becoming the biggest band in Latin America, by the way…)” article goes live next week in Ethos Colombia. I changed a couple things, of course. But Simón and I will always have the original.
A mug of steaming hot chocolate materializes in front of me. I look up to find Simón beaming at me, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes.
I grimace. “Do I have to?”
Simón sits across from me. “Sí,” four Colombians say.
Fernando, aka “Fercho”—Caballo de Troya’s lead guitar player and Simón’s best friend—and Simón’s sister, Montserrat, came to help me settle into the city.
They’re behind us in the living room, unpacking my books.
Juan Sebastián, the final member of Caballo de Troya, is in the kitchen fixing everyone else’s mugs.
It’s still surreal to call these people friends, to know their quirks, to have inside jokes, to watch them carefully unpack my life out of love, not just for Simón, but for me as well.
I grab the mug. “Fine.”
Simón hands me a spoon. Fercho, Montse, and Juan leave their spots to watch me. I dip the spoon into the mug and fish out three cubes of melting cheese at once. I tip the spoon over until two cubes slide back in.
Then I eat it.
The chocolate itself is amazing. But the cheese…Who knew that gooey, sticky, melty cheese can be flavorless yet still offensive?
I hate it. But I love the man, so I try to keep a straight face. He looks too excited. Plus, I’m outnumbered.
“It’s interesting,” I say carefully.
Simón throws his head back and laughs. “Give me that, you hate it.”
“Pfff…no,” I say, which only makes him laugh harder.
I love the way he knows me. I love the way he shows it.
“Food’s here,” his sister announces.
Simón springs to his feet. He stops in front of me, cups my face between his hands, and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Te quiero, ’mor.”
Then he messes up my hair and turns to grab our dinner. I can’t erase the smile on my face as I watch him; it’s so wide my cheeks hurt.
I grab my mug of awful hot chocolate and cheese and gleefully eat another spoonful, content in this one moment. Even though I’m in a foreign city, eating something I never in a million years would have picked for myself, I still feel perfectly at home.