Cubanita (5 page)

They arrive in clusters, ruining the Sunday afternoon silence.
Tía
Marta,
Tío
Pepe, Michi, Nereida,
Abuela
Mimi,
Abuelo
Jaime,
Bisabuela
Anita, and all their children, my
primos
—first cousins, second cousins, enough cousins to remind me that the Pill is one of the greatest inventions of all time.

From my room I hear them laughing. And shouting. And cackling, filling the house with jokes, as well as food. Even from across the house, their voices are loud and clear, telling my parents all they've brought. Flans, cookies,
ensaladas de papa y de macarrones, cerveza
, bags of ice, and toys from the dollar store for the little ones.

Someone flips on the stereo. Now Celia Cruz drowns out the other voices. Bubbly, flutey
salsa
music competes with the chatter. I guess there's no point relishing my quiet room anymore. Either I go and greet the crowd, or I wait for my mother
to find me and drag me out by the ear.

I go and greet the crowd.

There's my mom's friend Sandra. She sees me and paints a huge circle in the air with her plastic cup of Costco wine. “Sweetie! Congratulations! How does it feel to be a graduate?”

I kiss her cheek and accept a wimpy hug. “Like I'm in limbo. Not in high school, not in college. Yet, anyway. Just working for the summer.”

“Oh, that's right. So you're still counseling the little kids out there in the Everglades? That's so sweet.”

“It's not counseling, really, it's teaching. Actually I'm just putting my artistic skills to use. You know, good practice while making a few bucks.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, nodding with a blank smile, probably because she can't think of anything else to ask, even though she's known me my whole life. “That's great, good for you.”

Stefan materializes out of nowhere, sticking his face between us, an arm around my shoulders. “And she's dating the camp's PE coach too.” He smiles a mischievous grin, then proceeds to splash some beer on my shirt and our plastic-covered sofa. Yes, that's right, a plastic-covered sofa. As I examine the foul play and wipe the couch with a napkin, Stefan escapes unscathed.

“Shut up! I'm not dating anyone, idiot!” I shout. Dork. I use the napkin to blot my shoulder.

Sandra's got her head cocked, eyebrows frozen in the up
position, apparently disappointed that my mother failed to give her the latest scoop. “You're dating someone?” She looks around for Mami and spots her behind me saying hello to the Hewitts from across the street. “
Elena, tú no me dijiste que Isa estaba—
”

“
No, Sandra, Isa no está
dating anybody.”

Should it surprise me that Mami managed to overhear our conversation, exercise the Jedi mind trick,
and
greet the neighbors all at the same time? Now this is skill, people.

Let me just leave Sandra some food for thought. It'll drive her crazy and will arrive at my mother's ears in two minutes flat. “She's right. I wouldn't call it ‘dating.'”

While Sandra's still thinking this over, Coach Andrew and Susy enter the living room, with Dad behind them. They're all looking for me, so I lift a hand and excuse myself from Sandra's trap. “See you later. You look great, by the way!”

“
Ay, gracias, mi hija
.” She runs a hand through her hair.

I bounce over to Andrew and Susy. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” Susy and I exchange air smooches. I notice her surveying me out of the corner of her eye as I brush cheeks with Andrew. “So, what's up?” she asks, scanning the party crowd. “Is Patty here yet?”

“She might be outside.”

“I'll go check.” She struts off to find the gossip queen of our family.

“Dad,” I say, pulling him back before he has the chance to walk away. “You met Andrew?”

“Yes.” Dad pats Andrew on the back, like he's found a new
protégé. “A business major. Good, good.” Then he goes outside to check the death pit and see how the
lechón
is doing. We follow him onto the patio.

“Nice house,” Andrew says. There's a very subtle hush, and I can feel forty pairs of eyes on us. I can just imagine everyone's questions now.
Who's that guy? Where's Robi? Is that Isa's new beau? ¿Quién coño es ese tipo?

Before I can even say thanks, hello, how you doin', want a
croqueta
?, Stefan presses a cold bottle of Corona to my neck, and I squeal, “You jerk!” This is to attract the attention of anyone who may not already be noticing Andrew and me, such as the babies, dragonflies, and people across the canal.

Stefan thinks this is extremely funny and a clever way of getting me to introduce Andrew to him. “Yo, bro, what's up? I'm her brother.” He extends a hand to my guest.

“Stefan,” I tell Andrew. “‘Brother' isn't his real name.”

Andrew takes his hand, and they shake like buddies. “Andrew.”

“Like the hurricane.”

“Exactly.”

“Actually he
is
a Hurricane,” I clarify.

Apparently, from the way he's staring at me, like his seventeen-year-old sister shouldn't be calling a guy she's only gone out with once a hurricane, Stefan still doesn't get what I mean.

I shake my head. “A UM Hurricane, fool!”

“Oh!” Stefan tilts his head back, hand on his hip, other hand on his beer. “So you play football? That's cool.”

Jesus. He's hopeless.

Andrew tries helping Stefan out. “No, bro. I just go to school there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, as in study?” I say. “As in he does something with his life besides scope the beach for
sucias
?”

“For what?” Andrew asks.

“'Hos,” I explain.

“
Coño
, Isa, I do not look for
sucias
. ¿
Qué te pasa?
¿
Tu 'tá nerviosa porque Fulanito 'tá aquí?
”

I hate when he does this. It's so rude of him to tell me things in Spanish when someone else around doesn't understand him. It's like abusing a superhuman power.

Andrew clears his throat. “There's nothing wrong with her. I really don't think she's nervous 'cause of me, dude.”

Unbelievable. He understood. This is great! Go, Andrew!

“Oh, you speak Spanish?” Stefan acts happy about this. “That's awesome, bro! So…
mira, allí 'tá la cerveza
,” he rattles off at rapid fire.
“Seguro que la vas a encontrar rapidito porque tienes un olor a cerveza encima de madre
.”

Andrew squints, turns his ear to Stefan. “Dude, I only know a little bit, so you gotta talk slower than that.”

“Oh, okay.” Stefan appears pleased. “I said, help yourself to a beer.” He winks and walks off, whispering, “
Está más feo qu'el carajo
.”

Asshole. Thank God Andrew missed that one. He wouldn't have appreciated my brother saying that he reeks of beer and is uglier than hell. What upsets me is that Stefan didn't know
for sure that Andrew wouldn't understand him, so he just took a risk in getting his ass kicked.

But hold up…is Stefan serious? Does Andrew really reek? I've been aware of something, but I thought it was the spill on my shirt. Now I really want to lean in and check for myself, but that would be too weird.

Instead, we walk to the patio table and hang out for a while, during which time I don't notice any funny smells. I point out the various characters in my family, including Evelina, my dad's flamboyant aunt, who currently entertains a thirty-year-old banker in her bedroom, despite her sixty-two years.

“Don't ask,” I say. “She's been serving the male public since her husband died nine years ago.” I remember Evelina changing practically overnight, like she was just waiting for the old guy to drop dead so she could cut loose.

Evelina notices us eyeing her and waves happily. We smile and wave back.

“She looks good for sixty-two,” Andrew says, side-glancing me for a reaction.

“Ha, ha.” He better be kidding.

Susy comes back with Patty, who drapes an arm around my shoulders. Leaning her head against mine, Patty whispers, “He's hot, Isa! Where'd you get him?”

I ignore her. “Andrew, this is my cousin Patty.”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” He smiles.

A breath of air escapes her that sort of sounds like hi. She and Susy then exchange funny looks, like they're agreeing on
Andrew's hotness. I wonder if the other girls here think the same of him.

Susy and Patty begin their commentary on the barbecue fashion faux pas while strolling around the patio. I look at Andrew and cross my arms. “Hey, where's that pie you promised me?”

“Ah, the best dessert on Earth? I dropped it off on your kitchen counter. We'll test it later.”

“Yes, and we'll find out who rules, baby!”

My aunt Clarita whizzes by quickly, smiling politely, but announcing, “
Escóndete, que ahí llegó el rey de España
.”

“You're kidding,” I say. Dammit. Robi's here.

“What did she just say?” Andrew asks, squinting. “About the king of Spain?”

“That my ex-boyfriend's arrived to join the fun.” I roll my eyes. So embarrassing. “Sorry. He's not a jerk or anything. Probably won't even bother us.”

His eyes open wide. “Really? So, what is he, a part of the family?”

“Some people think so. I haven't seen him in a month, though. I have no idea why he's here.”

Speaking of which, I haven't seen my mother in a while either. Haven't even introduced Andrew to her. I would've, but after I left her in the kitchen last night, we haven't really spoken. She's been so busy ignoring me and Coach, I figure she's taking Robi's side. Well, that's just fine.

When Robi finally appears at the sliding glass doors, wearing a dark blue shirt with giant white stars on it and
holding a paper plate, my stomach begins to ache. It's only been a month, but he looks different. He cut his hair. He's skinnier or something. Some people greet him heartily, some pretend not to see him, and some just smile faintly as he walks by. Susy says hello to him. He gives her a friendly kiss, then looks around nervously.

“Is that him?” Andrew asks. From across the yard, I see Susy making a face at me, behind Robi's back, like she thinks this situation is highly amusing.

“Yep.” I try not to look at her or Robi. Don't want him thinking I miss him. Don't want the rest of the nosy clan to think the same either.

Robi's never been the shy type, so it wouldn't surprise me if he came over. In fact, that's exactly what he seems to be doing, accompanied by Stefan. Robi just
has
to show everyone he has no bad feelings toward me and can handle this situation like a man. As he makes his way over, greeting a handful of my folks, I catch him looking at me then looking away. Finally he makes it to my corner of the yard.

“Hey, Isa,” he says, shy smile at his lips. He looks at Andrew for a moment.

“Hey, Robi.” I tug once at my earlobe, and Andrew pulls my hand away.

Robi glares at him for a moment. Then he bends down to kiss my cheek, which feels really weird after two years of lip-locking, and I notice what's on his plate. A slice of Key lime pie. And it's green. Major, and I do mean major, no-no! It must be Andrew's mom's. Mami would never put food
coloring in the naturally yellow filling. Sacrilege!

Andrew offers his hand to Robi, who accepts it with the most serious attitude he can manage. After Robi starts to tell Stefan about a movie he saw last night, Andrew notices his mom's pie and elbows me lightly. “See?” he says with a wicked smile. “Your mama's going down.”

“Loser,” I tease back.

Behind Robi, Mami comes rounding the pool, a nervous smile on her face. She reaches us and puts one hand on Robi's shoulder, another on Baboon's. “
¿Isa, viste quién está aquí?
”

“No, Mami, I'm blind. Who's here?”

Robi laughs.

Mom doesn't. In fact, she completely ignores the remark, while eyeing Andrew at the same time. Andrew reaches up and takes her hand. “
Mucho gusto, Señora Díaz. Yo soy
Andrew.”

Awesome! His accent's not that bad. Go Andrew, go Andrew!

Robi then turns to my mother, and, right there in front of us, inserts his foot as far back into his mouth as possible. “Elena, you make the best, most awesome Key lime pie.” He takes a huge forkful and downs it in a second flat.

Ay, ay, ay!
I do
not
believe this. From the look on Mom's face, she doesn't either. She's staring at Robi, tongue tucked into her cheek, waiting for a lightbulb to turn on inside his brainless head. When it doesn't, she turns without a word and walks away. Stefan grips Robi's shoulder in sympathy and takes off too.

Robi stands there with me and Andrew, trying to figure out what just happened.

“Robi,” I say, “my mom doesn't put green food coloring in her pie. It's not traditional, remember?”

“Oh.” He looks down at his hand, as if he was holding a plateful of crap.

Hand over my face, I shake my head. “I can't believe you just dissed my mom! And straight to her face, too! You better go kiss and make up. She's the president of your fan club, after all.”

Frazzled, Robi turns around and starts talking to my uncle Tony and his brother-in-law's former girlfriend's roommate. Exactly.

Andrew leans his head on my shoulder and releases a quiet laugh. “Oh, my, God. Your ex just failed the freakin' taste test!” He shudders from the hilarity of it all. I lean my head on his and laugh too. Poor Robi, he should've just quit while he was ahead. That's what he gets for coming here.