Isle of Enchantment (3 page)

“I do but, I don't know. I'm just tired. Forget it.” I rubbed my eyes. I was tired and maybe grouchy too. Mom rubbed my hand.

“Mari, you could have stayed with Aunt Bernadette in Chicago. You didn't have to come along if you didn't want to.”

Mom's mention of Aunt Bernadette changed my mind. It would torture me to stay with Aunt Bernadette for three months. She'd wake me up at
5 a.m., drag me to yoga class three times a day, and make me eat bean sprouts and brussel sprout juice for dinner. Aunt Bernadette was a fitness freak. “No thanks.”

“That's my girl,” Mom smiled and looked reassured. I wasn't ready to abandon my family for a soft, warm bed.

Dad revved the engine and headed into the heart of San Juan, Puerto Rico.

The blue sky, the sparkling ocean, and palm trees were dazzling. It was so different compared to blizzardy Chicago. Cars zipped around us. Mom tried to read the road map and the road signs.

“I didn't know Puerto Rico had a big city,” Tomas said.

Mom turned to him.

“Yep, high rise buildings and traffic. Just like home.”

Tomas shook his head. “No, San Juan is different. It looks Spanish.”

“Of course it looks Spanish,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Tomas. “Who do you think settled the island in the first place?” I couldn't believe my twin
could be so dense.

“I know that,” Tomas said. “What I meant was that the buildings are interesting. Look at the pastel colors, the arches. It looks old and new at the same time.”

“It is amazing,” Dad said. I think he was trying to keep me and Tomas from getting into an argument in the car.

I shook my head and turned to look out the passenger's side window. San Juan was spectacular. It bustled with people, shops, and cafes–a fun, modern city in the middle of the Caribbean Sea.

“Why don't we find the hotel and head to the beach for sunset?” Mom suggested. Tomas fist-pumped the air.

“Yes! Let's hit the beach!”

Dad pulled the car into the hotel's parking lot. Tomas jumped out with his bags, ready to find the beach. “Slow down there, señor,” Dad tugged Tomas's arm. “We're checking in and picking up the hotel room keys.”

“Let's hurry. I want to swim,” Tomas said impatiently.

After we checked in and went up to our room, Tomas and I didn't waste any time. We were changed into our bathing suits and ready for the beach in less than five minutes.

The beach was easy to find. It was right across the street from our hotel. The water was a calm blue like I'd never seen before. Seagulls dipped into the water, looking for food. Families ran up and down the beach, enjoying the warm sunshine.

“Tag! You're it!” Tomas pounded me on my back.

“Ouch,” I screamed. Tomas raced down the shore. He knew I wouldn't let him get away with that. I sprinted after him, caught up to him, and pushed him into the sand. Instead of being angry with me, Tomas wiped the beach sand out of his mouth and eyes. He laughed and rolled away into the sea. His black head bobbed up and down with the waves. “Come in, the water's fine,” he yelled. Tomas looked like a merman in the water. I dove in after him. We raced through the water like dolphins.

“I love Puerto Rico,” Tomas shouted. The tropical climate certainly suited Tomas.

“Me too,” I yelled back.

Mom waved at us from the shore.

“Time to come in. The sun's setting,” she said. Tomas looked sad.

“Tomorrow, little brother.” I rubbed my fist on top of his wet head.

After breakfast the next day, Dad suggested we try kitesurfing.

“I've got lessons all set up for us,” he said.

I couldn't believe Dad would kitesurf. He isn't very athletic. Tomas and I were very excited. We walked down to the beach to meet our instructor.

“Hola, Perez family! Are you ready to fly over the water?” Fernando, our instructor, was tall and muscular.

He gave us life vests, a board that looked like a snowboard, and a harness that attached the large kite to our life vests. Tomas glanced nervously at me.

Fernando had us practice hooking and unhooking the kite from the harness. That was one way we could bail out if the ride got too rough.

“Let tu padre go first,” Fernando patted Dad on the back. He led Dad to the water. We couldn't hear
what Fernando said to Dad. But, the next thing we knew, Dad's kite caught the wind and off he went. Dad bounced across the waves like a rubber ball. He spun in a pattern like a tornado.

“OOO, eeee, OUCH! Aiy-yay- yay!” Dad screamed across the shoreline.

Fernando dashed across the beach, waving his arms and shouting in Spanish. In a flash, his kite unhooked from his harness and Dad's body slammed into the sea water. Fernando rushed into the water to make sure Dad was okay.

“Señor Perez, that was amazing!” Fernando must be an optimist. Dad was red-faced and looked miserable, like he had just gotten into a fist fight.

“I think I broke a rib,” he said, rubbing his side.

“Want to do it again?” Fernando obviously didn't get Dad's message.

“No way, I'm too old for kiteboarding. It hurts to pound into the water.”

“Niños?” Fernando looked at me and Tomas. “Want a turn?”

After watching Dad bounce like a fish out of water, Tomas and I had a change of heart. Kiteboarding
didn't look like the sport for us.

Since I am older than Tomas by six minutes, I took charge. “No thank you.”

“Windsurfing?” Fernando pointed to the windsurfing boards down the beach.

“Does it hurt like kiteboarding?” Tomas asked.

“No, no, it is much safer,” Fernando said. He looked like he meant it.

Tomas shrugged. “Why not? It's got to be better than slamming against the waves attached to a large kite.”

Fernando gave me and Tomas a lesson on windsurfing. Dad sat under an umbrella. He said he needed a rest.

Tomas and I spent the day gliding over the shallow blue water, twisting and turning to catch the tropical breezes. If the breeze slowed down, we fell over and landed in the warm water.

“Marisol, this is awesome!”

“I know! I feel like a bird,” I said.

“I feel like a pirate, sailing away on my own private raft to my own private island,” Tomas laughed. He has quite the imagination.

“Tomas, you're a goofball!” Just as I said it, a wave rolled in and knocked me off my board.

Dad waved to us from his beach chair. “Hey, kids, time to go get cleaned up for dinner!”

Tomas and I were starving. We'd been swimming and windsurfing all day. We devoured heaping plates of beans, arroz con pollo, which is chicken with rice, and arroz con dulce, candied coconut rice. After dinner, Mom and Dad decided that we should “soak up the local culture.”

Mom found a cafe in Old San Juan that had salsa dancing. Tomas and I didn't want to dance.

“Oh, kids, it will be fun,” Mom pleaded with us.

“I don't know how to salsa dance,” Tomas shook his head.

“You didn't know how to windsurf and you learned,” Dad chimed in.

“I don't want to dance with girls,” Tomas said.

“Dance with me then,” Mom suggested.

“Oh, no!” Tomas said as he backed away from Mom.

Dad said we should give Tomas a break because he is going through an “awkward phase.”

“Marisol, want to dance?” Dad held out his hand to me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Sure, why not?”

Dad and I made our way onto the crowded dance floor. People of all ages were moving to the bright, happy beat of the trombones, trumpets, and drums. I watched how the other dancers moved and tried to step like they did.

“Hey, that was my foot,” Dad exclaimed when my foot landed on his.

“Sorry, I'm new to this salsa thing,” I laughed.

Tomas was standing in the corner but I could see he was moving his body to the beat. Tomas can be a little shy and afraid to try things that might involve contact with a girl. Dad and I kept dancing and he laughed to me, “I can't believe you'll still dance with your old dad. I was afraid you were too cool for that.”

Dad spun me around and that's when I saw her. A small dark-haired girl was standing next to Tomas, whispering in his ear. Tomas was blushing. She took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

“Would you look at your brother? He's dancing
with a girl,” Dad grinned.

Tomas stumbled around the dance floor at first. He couldn't even find the beat of the music. The girl held his hands and showed him how to move his feet and hips. He bumped into the other dancers and muttered a few “Oh, I'm so sorry.” Tomas looked nervous and very sweaty. But the girl smiled as she taught Tomas how to salsa.

“May I have this dance,” Mom asked as she stepped between me and Dad.

“Yes, please,” I answered as I handed Dad off to Mom. I wanted to watch Tomas dance with a mystery girl and that was hard to do while I was dancing with Dad. I moved off to the corner so Tomas would not catch me watching him.

After three or four songs, Tomas started to get better. He stayed with the beat most of the time and he wasn't bumping into every other dancer on the floor. He began to look like he was having some fun.

Then his mystery girl leaned into him, placed her hands on his cheeks, and planted a kiss on his face. Tomas lost the beat and skidded into his dancing partner. He looked surprised. The girl ran off.

Tomas rushed off the dance floor in the opposite direction. I dashed after him.

“Tomas, hey, wait up,” I called.

Tomas was outside in the fresh air by the time I caught up to him.

“What happened in there, little bro?” I asked.

“I don't know. One minute I'm learning how to dance, the next I get kissed.” Tomas was embarrassed.

I laughed, “You act like you've never been kissed.”

“I haven't,” Tomas confessed.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously,” he answered.

Wow. Tomas's first real kiss was with a total stranger. Tomas shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe I am cuter in Puerto Rico than I am in the United States?”

I shook my head.

“Nope. Don't think so.” Who am I to lie to the boy?

“It must be your stunning dance moves,” I told Tomas. He looked like he believed me.

A shadow moved behind Tomas. I motioned to him to be quiet. The shadowy figure came closer. Under the lamplight, I recognized the girl from the dance floor.

“Tomas, someone's looking for you,” I sang.

Tomas turned around and jumped back, startled. The girl came closer to us.

“Hola,” she said. “Tomas, you can't leave without giving me your phone number.”

Even though it was dark outside, I could see the blush rising in Tomas's cheeks.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tomas stammered.

The girl handed him her phone and he typed his contact information.

“Aren't you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?” I said.

Tomas looked embarrassed and confused.

“Carmen, this is my twin sister, Marisol.” Tomas paused and motioned to me. “Marisol, this is my friend Carmen.”

I stuck my hand up, waved, and offered a polite, “Nice to meet you.”

Carmen did the same.

“Would you like to see real, traditional dancing?”
Carmen asked.

“Sure,” Tomas agreed to anything.

“Come on,” Carmen said, pulling Tomas by the hand. I trailed behind.

Carmen twisted and turned through the city streets until we came to a small restaurant.

“Here we are. Real Spanish dancing. Take a peek,” Carmen said as she swung open the doors. We walked inside.

The restaurant was packed with people gazing at the stage. A guitarist strummed a few chords in the corner. A tall woman in a red ruffled dress stood in the center of the stage.

“Just in time,” Carmen said. “She hasn't started the dance yet.”

As the guitar played slowly, the dancer waved her arms in the air, keeping pace with the guitar.

“What is she doing?” I asked.

“She's a Flamenco dancer,” Carmen said.

“A what?” Tomas asked, puzzled.

“Flamenco. It is a dance from Spain. People all over the Caribbean love Flamenco,” Carmen said breathlessly.

The guitar played faster. The dancer arched her back and stomped her high heels to the beat. She spun, arched, and dipped to the rhythm of the music. Instead of slowing down, the music went faster. The dancer pounded the floor with her feet. She grasped the edge of her dress and dipped to the music.

“Isn't Flamenco beautiful?” Carmen asked us.

“Incredible,” I answered.

“Come on, let's dance!” Carmen pulled me to the corner of the stage. Soon other women came to the stage to dance, too.

“I don't know how,” I shouted over the music.

“Watch me.” Carmen arched her back. “Now feel the music.” I mimicked her moves, stomping and waving my arms to the rhythm of the song.

“Loosen up and have fun,” Carmen laughed.

I was self-conscious but I tried to forget that a hundred people were watching us.

When the song ended, we left the stage.

“That's a little harder than salsa dancing,” I laughed to Tomas. “It's intense.”

Tomas smiled at Carmen.

“You looked great up there,” he said shyly.

“Thanks,” she answered. “I should. That dancer is my mom. "

Tomas and I were stunned.

“I've been dancing since I could walk. Music is in my blood.”

Carmen wiped the sweat off her forehead. “We'd better head back. Your parents will wonder what happened to you.”

We strolled through the Puerto Rican streets. On our way, Carmen shared stories about the island. She'd been to the mainland once but missed the sunny, happy Puerto Rican beaches and the music filled nights.

“I hope you enjoy Puerto Rico,” Carmen said to us when we returned to the cafe. She leaned toward Tomas and kissed him again. “You better keep in touch, Tomas. Do not forget about me.” Tomas blushed. Carmen dashed off to return to the restaurant.