Perfectly Ridiculous (18 page)

“Your friend? Or the girl who kept you company while you were in the States?”

“This is ridiculous,” I say. “I need this ministry, and if you need volunteers now, don't let jealousy—unfounded jealousy, I might add—get in your way.”

“Daisy, do yourself a favor and just go chill at the fancy hotel with your parents, and hang with Claire when she gets back,” Max says. “You'll be fine. Things always work out fine for you, and I'm sure this time will be no different. Like a cat, you always land on your feet.”

“But . . .”

The car is silent for the next fifteen minutes or so. As we pull into the outskirts of Buenos Aires, the luxurious, European-style buildings with their decorative fronts beam at us, and while I'm excited to tour the city, I'm also weary of this trip and ready to go home to my toilet-paper infused bedroom.

Finally Rosalina speaks up. “I have the perfect job for you, Daisy, and if you promise to cut off all communication with Max in the future, then I think it's for you. Do you think you could start tomorrow?”

“I can start right now!” I say excitedly.

Max is sulking next to me, and I'm torn about how I feel about him. I mean, never in the amount of time I spent with him did I hear Rosalina's name mentioned. Not even once. At the same time, my parents are so into courting and not dating, and I thought that was a fate worse than death, until I think about being engaged to someone who is lovely but not necessarily lovable, and certainly not Max's choice.

He conveys something to me with his eyes, and instinctively I understand that there is more to this offer than Rosalina is conveying.

“There's a manila folder back there marked ‘United Nations.' It's a job taking census information on the population—more specifically, working with young pregnant women. I think you'd be perfect for the job. The young women would trust you immediately, I'll bet.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just being an American. We have our preconceived ideas, I guess you'd say.”

My desperation speaks for me. To go back to the States with my paperwork signed trumps anything that Rosalina could do to me. “I'll take it!”

“How's your Spanish?”

“I read it better than I speak it, but if I have the questions written down, I'm sure I can speak well enough to get all the information the agency needs and be effective.”

“What if they answer you in a long Spanish sentence? What then?” Max asks.

“I'll tell them
muy rapido
—it's too fast—and I'll get this really confused look on my face.” I show Rosalina my best confused look and she nods.

“Then it's yours. Take the folder and review it as we get into town. The address is there on the folder, and you can just take a taxi to it in the morning. I'll call them and tell them to expect you. They'll be so excited. It was the one position we couldn't fill.”

I try not to hear the warning bells in my head caused by this statement. It's far too convenient that a mission would appear right when I needed it. There has to be a catch.

Max crosses his arms as if he's been betrayed by me, but if you ask me, he's getting exactly what he deserves. Maybe losing the car was a bit much, but does he expect me to turn down an opportunity because of his own issues?

“He's engaged,” I mumble under my breath. Only J.C. seems to notice my momentary absence as the full weight of this phrase hits me. I plaster on a smile to let him know I'm fine. No big deal. I glance at Max and see the late afternoon sun warming his tan skin through the window. His appearance is so
Tiger Beat
, and I wish staring at him didn't make my stomach do somersaults. I always knew something stopped Max from getting too close to me, but he allowed me to believe there was something wrong with me. Or I guess I allowed myself to believe that. Now I know he was settled on a wife and a future in this country. Any words to the contrary were just that—words. I see only disaster ahead for him if he goes through with his mother's wishes, but it's none of my business.

Max catches me staring, and I snap my head down to open the manila folder. The project's objectives are all in both English and Spanish, so I have no trouble reading about the requirements.

I feel J.C. staring at me, and I look up to see his questioning eyes.
He knows.
There's an invisible connection between Max and me, and it's as if I can read his heart. I trust him, even though maybe I shouldn't.

Everything about J.C. screams that he's perfect for me. He's unattached. Gorgeous. Sweet. Kind. He's going to be attending Pepperdine. He rescued me and stood up for me against Max's false accusations, and he's such a gentleman! Granted, maybe he has my luck and the two of us could be dangerous together, but other than that . . .

I feel my gaze stray back to Max, whom I should be livid with, but I can't stir up any anger for him again. He probably had no more control over his situation than I did about not being able to date. He can't want this. At my church, I've never seen any guy in a rush to get down the aisle.

But that invisible connection that goes against all the practicality and wisdom that I've gained in my short seventeen years—that connection keeps me tied to Max in a way that defies explanation. And perhaps sanity too.

Love should be more practical. Feelings should make sense.

Max seems to be mulling over the same thoughts as his deep brown eyes look at me intensely. “One more tango. If nothing else, promise me a tango in town before you leave.”

My head bobs up and down of its own volition.

 16 

The awkward silence stretches until J.C. casually mentions the weather, the palm trees we pass, and the Disneyland architecture. The car slows as we enter city traffic, pass through a huge roundabout, and crawl through several lanes. We head into the heart of the international world that I'm both in awe of and mesmerized by. The buzz of cars and people fills me with an energy of safety and sanity. Seeing familiar brands along many of the storefronts is solace enough to soothe me and make me feel as if I've entered society again. We've all fallen silent again as we check out the sights.

Rosalina speaks, pointing to the light-up clock in the center of the dashboard. “It looks like J.C. already missed his flight, so I'll drop you both off at the hotel.” Rosalina doesn't mince words that she means J.C. and me. “Max, I'll get you back to your mother's. She's got to be worried sick about you. Wait until she hears about the car.”

“Why do you think I didn't call her? I can wait for that conversation.”

J.C. throws me a glance, and I do my best not to return it, in case Max sees and knows exactly what I'm thinking. But the closer we get to the hotel, the more I think I'll never see Max again. I feel the sting of tears behind my nose at the very thought of this.

Max needs to stand up for himself. He needs to tell this control freak he's not getting married, and he needs to tell his mother that he has to choose his own life path. Otherwise his life will be constantly dictated for him from here on out. I know that it's none of my business, but that doesn't stop my body from buzzing with the stress of his situation.

As Rosalina pulls the oversized black car into the hotel's circular driveway, I feel my pulse quicken and hear my own heartbeat over the city sounds. She pulls the car toward the top of the circle and away from the bellmen, but they run alongside the car to ensure they can do their jobs and open the car doors. For seventeen, Rosalina looks and acts about thirty, and she intimidates me. It's clear she intimidates Max too. Besides, nice guys are no match for conniving women. I feel a sense of duty to be his heroine.

One of the bellmen opens the back door first, and Max climbs out. I follow quickly behind him to try for a few stealth moments of communication. We stand by the car, out of Rosalina's view.

“I might never see you again.” I'd hoped to keep the desperation out of my voice, but I'm not so lucky.

“Would that bother you?”

“It would.”

“How much?”

I've got nothing to lose here. My dignity left a long time ago. “I can't explain why I feel connected to you, like even though sometimes I don't get your actions, I trust who you are on the inside. I can't explain why I feel disappointed every time you don't show up, even though I knew you probably wouldn't. Still, it stings when you don't.”

“Max!” Rosalina calls from the car. “J.C. is waiting to get out. What's going on out there?”

Max halts me with his eyes. “Please don't do this work for Rosalina.” His eyes rest on the manila envelope.

“I promised Rosalina. Just like you did.”

“Daisy, I had to say that. Rosalina is—she has this skill to get her way. It's best to agree with her, but you're not staying, so you don't need to do that.”

“You lied when you urged me to take the mission?”

“I didn't lie. I encouraged you in front of Rosalina, and now I'm discouraging you when she can't hear me,” he whispered, but he seemed rushed.

“Don't forget J.C. up here!” Rosalina calls. “What are you two talking about out there?” She can't see us, and being left out obviously doesn't sit well with her.

I lean into the car. “Got him. Be right there, J.C. Max and I are just working out how I'll get to the mission this week.” I pop back up and meet Max's eyes again. “I promised,” I say again, and before I have time to think of it, I ask him straight up. “Have you asked her to marry you? Is there a ring?”

He shakes his head and skirts a fuller answer. “I wonder how God feels about your promise. About promising something you're not capable of understanding.”

“I told you, I have enough Spanish to listen to the questions.”

“I never saw Rosa do an act of kindness that didn't have an ulterior motive attached to it.”

“That's not a very nice way to think about your fiancée.”

“She's not my fiancée. Those words came out of my mother's mouth, not mine. It's complicated. My mom works for Rosa's mom. What Rosa wants, Rosa gets. Or else my mother needs to find someone who will pay her a ridiculous salary to be at home and manage receipts.”

“Max!” Rosalina shouts, and suddenly J.C.'s car door is pushed open from the inside.

“You still don't have to marry her,” I whisper, and I get close enough to feel his breath. I know Rosalina can see our bodies pressed closer together, but I don't move regardless.

“I don't have to marry her. I probably won't, but it's going to get ugly before I'm free. I'm only preparing for the fallout and trying to make the break as gently as possible. But I'm trying to warn you. Don't get involved with Rosalina. There's always a catch.”

I reach for the handle to J.C.'s door, and Max pulls my arm away and presses the door shut again. “I'm not done!” he snaps.

“It's a week. What could happen? There are plenty of NGOs building houses and looking for volunteers all the time. If it's endorsed by her office, all the better. Even Prince William and Kate worked in Chile. Not everyone has rules like Libby, and I can't be afraid to try again just because one thing failed.”

Max keeps his hand pressed against the top of the door. “Go on vacation and leave this until you get home.”

“Why are you so invested in what I do?”

“Because I have a bad feeling about this. About this
and
you. And I didn't want to tell you when I dropped you off at Libby's, but I felt the same way about you there.”

“I can't say no.” I try to explain further. “I've been too dependent. This is mine. I own it.”

“Maybe the whole world's problems aren't yours. Your parents are adults. Let them take care of their own worries.”

“Couldn't I say the same thing about you and being engaged?” It's not like Max has been the mountaintop of trust lately.

“Max?” Rosalina calls.

I tug at the door, and J.C. straightens his leg outward. Max helps him out and hands him his crutch. “Dude, I hope you get home.”

“Thanks. I'll get you something for the car when I get home.”

Max slides into the car without another word to J.C.

“I'm sorry about your car, Max,” I say. “I know J.C. is too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I can see his forehead bead with sweat at the mere thought of getting a new vehicle.

“No, I'm going to do something to make it up to you. I promise. I'll talk to my parents.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Just go enjoy yourself at the hotel and forget about the car.” He tries to take the manila envelope from me, but I clutch it to my chest.

“I won't do that!” I tell him, willing him to trust me. Willing him to accept help when he so clearly needs it. He needs to let that macho act go. “I can handle this.”

Max shakes his head. “Does it ever occur to
you
to stop and take the help that's offered to you? I'm not talking about Rosalina's offer, you know. There's no rule that you have to do everything perfectly all the time, and you're so busy trying to fix my problem, you haven't noticed your own, which is in that innocent-looking envelope.”

I hesitate. “Is this goodbye then?” I ask Max. “Will I see you again before I leave? Will I meet your mother?”

He says nothing, and then J.C. hovers over us.

“Can I get your information from Daisy? To pay for the car?” J.C. asks.

“Just forget about it.” Max waves him off.

“I'm not going to forget about it. I take responsibility for my mistakes.”

“Are you saying that I don't?” Max asks with his chest pumped outward.

“Max, don't be stupid. You need the help,” I remind him.

“I don't need the help. You need the help, and you're so bound and determined to get that scholarship requirement done, you don't care who it hurts.”

“How could it hurt to ask questions?”

He exhales. “Yeah, how could that hurt? Just forget about it. Forget about me. You've got Rosalina on your side now, and you've got your scholarship with J.C., so I guess everything is set for you. I'm sure if I should ever cross your mind, paying for a car isn't going to be on your list of priorities.”

“Then you never really knew me.” I take J.C.'s hand and bend back into the car. “Thank you, Rosalina, for the ride, for this information. You can't know how much I appreciate everything you've done. Max is a lucky man.” It takes everything I have to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

She grins. “Just be there tomorrow and don't let me down.”

“I promise,” I tell her. “Wild horses, or whatever you have down here, couldn't drag me away.”

As J.C. and I make our way to the gold glass doors of the hotel, it occurs to me I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do, and I'm not sure anything is going to meet my parents' standards.

J.C. stops at the doorway. “Maybe I should just take a taxi to the airport. I've imposed myself on you long enough.”

“Without a flight? You can't sleep there all night if you can't get a flight.”

“I don't want to meet your parents like this. Look at me.”

Naturally, he still looks like J.C., so what exactly does he want me to say? He's suddenly heinous? “I don't think you have a choice. You can hardly go to the airport with no baggage or ticket looking like that. This is not the Greyhound bus station. I think you'll fare better with my parents than at the airport.” I'm not entirely sure this is true, but I believe it's true, and right now that's enough.

He limps behind me to the elevator. “I'm sorry about Max, if it makes you feel any better. I didn't mean for any of that to happen.”

“I'm sorry you picked my pathetic mission for your trip after seeing what I'd picked. Maybe if I'd known to warn you that I had the worst luck in the world, neither one of us would be in this situation.”

“Why don't I come with you tomorrow to the NGO thing? I could help translate, and then I wouldn't feel like this entire trip was wasted.”

“You need to get back home and get to your food bank, and I don't think they want a guy who looks like you on the pregnancy circuit of Argentina, if you know what I mean.”

“Why not? There's little damage I could do if they're already pregnant.”

I stare hard at him.

“It was a joke, Daisy. Lighten up.”

“I can't lighten up. I keep thinking how I'm going to explain your presence to my parents, but I can't let you go to the airport without a ticket either.”

“I'll handle it. You haven't done anything wrong. Maybe you get in so much trouble because you automatically feel guilty, so everyone just assumes you're guilty.”

“Maybe.” I press the button to the floor where my parents are located and pray they're where they said they would be. It's going to be hard enough to explain my whereabouts all morning and afternoon. “I'm starving.”

“We haven't eaten all day.”

“Maybe we should go down to the restaurant and eat before we meet up with my parents. We could just put the tab on the room.”

The elevator doors open. “Too late,” J.C. says.

“I have to get a new travel journal. The napkins aren't doing the trick as journal paper. Why don't we hit the gift shop before we bother my parents? I bet they have some really nice ones down in the lobby. Did you see how nice their gift shop was? Don't you love how you can just buy anything in a gift shop? I mean, it's like this little mini everything store, and it's like they know exactly what you'll need and so they stock it. Even if you're only craving a candy bar. They have the best selection and—”