Lessons in Pure Life Page 22

  “Ha!” she squawks. “No, don’t put that on yourself.”

  “But Diego and your father—”

  “Diego and my father rarely agree on anything. No me malinterpretes, you’ve gotten yourself into a clusterfuck of family drama, ciertamente. Papa doesn’t like foreigners, particularly when Diego gets involved with them. But the battle is nothing new. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “Diego and I haven’t spoken yet.”

  She sighs into the receiver. “He’s probably flagellating himself about this. My dad was pretty rude to you. Diego would be so embarrassed by that.”

  Flagellating; wow. Someone’s been practicing.

  “Shit. Well, I should have been more understanding. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

  “Yeah, that was… I didn’t know you had that in you, chica. But, nothing we can do to change the past now,” she concludes.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything. I never really imagined things would… progress like they did. I don’t have a brother, so I don’t know what it’s like to see a friend with one, or whatever,” I finish with a mumble, sounding lame.

  More silence.

  “Well…” She takes a deep nasal breath, and it blasts through the phone in my ear. “It’s not the perfect situation.”

  “No.”

  “But, if we’re being honest…”

  “Yes?”

  “Lo voy a lamentar,” she sighs.

  “What? What will you regret?”

  “Telling you I’m not surprised. And maybe I’m happy you finally hooked up. Just don’t tell Diego, okay? I want no involvement with this battle between them, and if he knows I’m on his side, he’ll tell Papa. It will be a mess I’m too fucking busy to clean up.”

  “So wait, you’re happy?” I squeak.

  “After a few weeks of you being here, it was obvious to me. You’re perfect for him.”

  “We just had our first date last night. Honestly.”

  “I’m not blind, though. You two have been dragging this out for a while. The serious expression you get, him acting all tough around you. You guys are so funny.”

  I’m kinda speechless.

  “I mean… my brother comes off as a complicated guy, but not really. He’s been the same way since he was young, acting so serious and cool when he’s so thoughtful, responsible. He took my mother’s death very deeply, and it knocked him. We all mourn, but Diego has his own way. He deserves someone who will respect him, who he can respect.”

  “He can be so kind. I didn’t realize.”

  “Si. He’s humble too, when he’s not showing off. He will work very hard for what he cares about. Like the school. He doesn’t take payment, even though I offered him a fair salary for the labor. He’s way too proud to take my father’s money. It’s in Diego’s nature to give, but he isn’t comfortable expressing himself like my mother is— was, I mean, or like me. He would always go to her with his problems. He’s been so… heavy for so long that I noticed when he got distracted by you, miss.”

  I let my mind flood with him. How much affection I felt in his arms when they wrapped around me.

  “I think I’m falling for him, Genesis.”

  I didn’t plan on saying it. The feeling’s been whispering in my ears these past few days, but when you put a song into words, something gets lost in translation.

  “Tsk. Sweetie,” she coos, happy and stern in her style.

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Nobody means to. Mama used to tell us we would fall in love when we weren’t looking for it. Diego’s so much like her in the slow and careful way he thinks about life – and in his brains; he may be an idiot sometimes, but he always got better grades than me. Socially he acts like my father, though. So closed off. So much ego.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You bring out a bright side in him. It is very obvious how much you care about giving to our community. I think it’s in your nature, and you match him in that way. I knew he might not ever show you that side of him, and I’m glad he did. That means a lot. It’s funny, I’ve been thinking of you that way for a while now. Like a sister.”

  I hope I heard that right because I’m so touched. I’ve got that aw shucks feeling.

  “Really?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I’m honored,” I say through a smile and a sneaky tear or two.

  “After Diego picked you up on his motorcycle the first week, I knew he was into you.”

  “How come?”

  “He didn’t complain like he usually does when I ask him for favors. He was in a good mood after. He was like that the day we had Chinese food with Jose at school, too. I caught him singing to himself, looking like a man does when he’s thinking about a woman,” she says with teasing affection.

  “That was a good day.”

  “You guys were all tense together. It was funny, he was all… como se dice, like, he was showing off. Acting cool for this profesora linda. And then later he perks right up like an idiot. Heh.”

  “And I thought it was all in my head.”

  “I don’t miss much.”

  “No kidding. So you aren’t mad?”

  “No. It’s awkward, and I don’t want to get involved in any drama between my father and Diego. I don’t know if this is a situation you want to be in, to be honest. But I want to see my brother with someone intelligent, who can take care of him. It would be complicated, but I think you would make him a better man. And I’m angry with my father’s reaction. On behalf of our family, I’m sorry for that. He’s sorry; he just doesn’t know it. His heart is dead. ”

  That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

  “Your poor father.”

  “Yes. Father,” she echoes, putting a bookmark in the subject. “Lia, what are your plans? I mean, how long will you stay here?”

  “I don’t know.” I try to picture a vivid exit date, but my mind jams. “I don’t really have anything waiting for me at home. But I haven’t even considered staying here long term. It always seems like a few months, a few more months.”

  “Well,” she starts, “I might need your help. Seriously. What would you say if I told you I was going to open a new school?”

  “Really? Congratulations.”

  “Save it for when I have more to go on. I’m applying for a big academic grant, and I have a good chance because we are one of the only qualifying locations. But there are still competitors, so it has to be a perfect application. And it’s in English. So I’ve been thinking about asking you to help me, maybe full time.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. Does it interest you? Because you should write the proposal. You’re the most qualified person to do it. I don’t have funding to pay you right away, but I would have plenty if I got the grant. And I think I can get it.”

  “So is this an independent project?”

  “If you mean from my father, yes. My husband knows about it, of course, and I told Diego in confidence, but that’s it. I don’t want to say anything until I have the money to cut free.”

  “Wow. Well, of course I’ll help you.”

  “You would?”

  “It’s the best offer I’ve had since I graduated, to be honest. And we already know we work well together.”

  “I want to improve the whole program. I’m designing a modern system where students have more flexibility to learn. I know that’s a big one for you, Tica.”

  “Yeah, for sure.”

  “Diego and I and even our sisters never had access to computers at school, or those new SMART boards. I want Cata’s generation to have as much as American kids do. We can’t keep using the old buildings; they’re falling apart. We need to think bigger.”

  “Yeah… totally.” I sound like a surf brain, but I’m excited to hear her talk like this. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  We talk excitedly about our plans, and before we hang up she asks me not to stress about Dieg
o, that he might need some space to make a decision about how he’s going to handle the situation.

  I agree with her, and we decide I’ll start working on the application right away. It’s perfect that I have something to throw myself into while this storm blows over. I’m not sure what, if anything, I’m supposed to do but stay focused on the moment.

  When I download the form Genesis sends, I’m excited to see that it’s almost identical to the grants I’d processed as a part-time admin during school. I still have to do plenty of work, but it’s a major help that I’ve got experience using these forms properly.

  I put on my favorite working playlist, for when I need audio caffeine. It’s light jungle music, and every time my mood dips down in search of Diego, the crispy percussion snaps me back to reality.

  So what if my phone isn’t glowing with texts? Do I really need him to apologize?

  Yes, I think I do. Someone’s got to. Just because I understand why Joaquin would see me in such an unflattering light – aside from the literally unflattering lights – doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten that he called me names. I don’t feel good about any woman being called a slut, being treated aggressively and without compassion. Not on my watch.

  I am a burst pinata, the lost ark after it’s been raided. Everything that was secret and dark and inside has exploded outward, everywhere. Emptied of my fullness, I’m damp of spirit.

  Silver lining? Having recovered from failure before, I know how to throw my brain into work. I churn out progress like a student, developing the statement of request, listing our best resources. Using the structure I learned, I write a glorified essay describing why we deserve the grant money. This is a system I know how to work, and it feels good to hit all the elements I know reviewers will be looking for.

  My phone remains dark. No sudden light-ups or buzzes to bring up my mood the way a conductor enlivens an orchestra.

  Decidedly not alight or abuzz, I let another day pass without reaching out, without being reached. Class and my regular routine sputter back to life, and I settle in stiffly under a patched roof. Diego doesn’t show, but my pupils do. It’s like a forgotten part of my heart lighting up again. Seeing my students after a week comes with the realization that I’ve missed them, that I genuinely enjoy being their teacher. I even kind of missed Celso’s taunting. He’s still so young, the little turd.

  What an odd role model I must be to them, a curious lady-girl with a bruised heart and a penchant for going off-curriculum. Arriving here intending to teach, I get into various, intricate dramas with most of the administration instead. Am I just another misguided gringa like Diego’s California girl or a sane person in a mad world? I don’t know anymore, but I’m sure the Valverdes have an idea.

  When I sleep, I have sex dreams about Diego that turn into nightmares. This morning I woke up sick with anxiety, remembering a stressful dream about Mr. Valverde and Carter. Once the nightmares ebb, my heart’s left aching. You’d think we’d literally grown into each other. I haven’t bonded like this with a guy… ever. But ugh, the family drama.

  I should feel proud, accomplished. Genesis and I are breaking ground, maybe literally if she wins this thing. The day after my perfect world disintegrated, I was lucky enough to get some work. I’m grateful; I am. It’s the only way I'm able to sort of tuck my emotions on the shelf and maintain momentum. Without love, there’s still purpose.

  One week has ground by; still no contact with Diego.

  I’ve been looking over the final draft of the application all afternoon, and I’m finishing a proofread. Genesis and I have kept out of touch except to be cordial at school or to email about the application. She wants to keep away from the drama, and I don’t blame her. I wish I had a choice in the matter.

  Katherine knows the basic details of what happened, only because it hurts to go over everything in color.

  If things had gone without catching fire, I might be gushing over my new romance with her, planning double dates galore. Instead, she’s been kind to bring me snacks, ask about my work. Those are the sweets you savor when you feel like shit, the gifts from people who love you even when you’re down and don’t know what to say.

  This morning she knocked on my door with a bag and a grin, explaining that she’d finally tried on a pair of silky shorts she’d bought a few weeks ago and they didn’t fit. It was too late to return them, so I could have them. I didn’t feel happy, exactly, but she knows how to get to my heart. Free clothes! I left the bag on the bed and went back to the glowing screen of my laptop.

  My vision is blurry by the time I finish the damn proofread and send the application off to Genesis for her final review and submission. I’m brain is tired from the work, but it feels a little exhilarating to have accomplished something that actually matters. A bunch of students will really benefit if this happens. More than just a classful. That’s a big one.

  What to do now?

  Keep me numb, says my emotional center.

  I get up and walk around, looking for a mess to clean or laundry to fold. There are the little shorts Kat dropped off. Better try them on.

  I’m admiring myself in the mirror and wishing I’d had these before my relationship with Diego hit pause because they’re really cute. Twisting, I glance over my shoulder to see how they fit from behind. Hot damn. Of course, I have nothing to do tonight.

  I hear my front door open and shut.

  “Kat?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “I tried on the shorts!” I announce.

  “Lia?”

  Shoes shuffle up the stairs. Man steps. Man voice.

  “Diego?”

  It’s him. I say his name as he turns the corner and stands in the threshold of my room. My blood pressure spikes, seeing the sloping cut of his shoulders, the symmetry of his big body, the baseball cap flipped around backwards. He’s wearing the red t-shirt he wore to roller disco, the one that throbs on him.

  “Gringa,” his voice asks for me. Sounding clenched, breath heavy. I take a step back into my room instinctively. Don’t trust the pull of our chemistry.

  He follows me in. Blood is thumping so loud I can hear it inside my body. Can he? Fascinating – attraction comes before logic, I notice.

  “What are—”

  “Katherine said I could—”

  “Sorry,” I apologize, and then regret it, not wanting to be the one fixing the situation.

  “No. I’m sorry it’s been so long.” He moves back into the doorway, tucking his hands tight in his pockets like he’s afraid they’ll break something.

  “It feels like a long time.”

  “It feels like forever,” he says softly, leaning against the doorjamb. Of all the times for him to offer a warm smile, and I can’t return it. I need to hear him speak about what happened. We can’t start off like this.

  “You can enter. My claws are tucked in,” I mutter.

  “Thanks.”

  He walks in slowly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he examines my space. Papers fanned out across my duvet, the galaxy print pillowcase I DIY’d that reminds me of home, my little window seat with the incense and my books; he takes it all in.

  “I like it,” he approves.

  “I’m glad,” I answer flatly. He likes my room? Who cares. Can’t do small talk right now.

  “So. Mierde. I don’t know where to begin.”

  “You could start with your father.”

  He looks like he’s been dreading this all week.

  “He’s an interesting man.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes. His face apologizes before he can say anything, and I almost feel bad for how badly he must feel.

  “Lia, he’s an asshole. I’m so embarrassed. You have to believe me.”

  “I believe you…”

  “But you don’t trust me.”

  “Well, a lot’s happened,” I state, sitting on the edge of my bed. “We have this great night together, fool around until dawn, our shoes go missing, your famil
y hates me, and then I don’t hear from you. I tried to shut my mind off, but I couldn’t, really.”

  “It’s a lot for me too. I’m so, so sorry. I was selfish to take so much time… but this is the first time I’ve had to choose between my family and my future.”

  The word he uses to refer to me pumps my adrenaline. I see stars, again. Diego will be the death of me.

  “You mean a lot to me,” he continues. “I don’t want to lose you, but I’ve been trying for peace with my father for a long time. We’ve all been pretty miserable,” he admits, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to tear at the scars we worked hard to heal.”

  And I don’t either. Imagine losing your wife before you really understand how much of your life she fills up. Saying goodbye to your mom when you don’t feel full-grown yourself.

  I’m also sad for all the women who get hit with the violence of shattered egos and faraway comfort zones. The nice girls who are called sluts, the intelligent women seen as trophies. I mean, where has name-calling and blind judgment ever gotten anyone, except labeled an asshole? Certainly none of us, not me or Joaquin or Diego, want to stoop to such human lowness. And yet here we are.

  “Lia, I choose my future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is another brick in the wall my dad’s building around himself. He needs to accept that I’m going to make choices for myself. I told him how I feel. I explained who you are to our community and what it means for him to call someone like you a puta. Genesis isn’t speaking to him, and I think that’s having an impact, more than if it was just about me.”

  I’m shocked and touched, considering Genesis wanted nothing to do with it.

  “Wow,” I respond.

  “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

  “I won’t.” So many secrets to keep.

  He walks over and sits next to me on the bed. It groans under his weight.

  “Lia, we don’t have to decide everything now, but I felt happier on Saturday night than I have in so long. So fucking long,” he laughs humorlessly. “I haven’t stopped wanting you, mi diosa.”

  He’s as Diego as ever, honest even if he doesn’t have the answer.

  “Yeah?” I don’t mean to sound like he’s offered me a free massage.