Swept Away (4 page)

“Why didn’t you say it back?” Camilla asks.

We’re sitting in Chemistry class. 

I shrug. “I could’ve said it, but I wouldn’t have meant it. I think he’s great, but love?”

“So, you just said nothing?”

“I said ‘let’s get to class,’” I defend.

Camilla shakes her head. “I should knock some sense into you.”

“I want to, Camilla, I do.  It’s just…”

“You’re not ready. Yeah, I’ve heard that broken record for months now.”

I remain silent. The teacher arrives and class starts. Vicki and Emily are huddled together, talking. The teacher reprimands them, and class continues. I’m following along—elements and all that—nose in my textbook, the pencil’s led swiping across the page in my notebook—when I feel it happening, again. I’m drowning. He’s here. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

I turn and see Camilla, concerned. I’m afraid I’m going to faint and I don’t want to do that in front of Vicki. I’ll never hear the end of it.

“I think I need to go to the nurse,” I say.

Camilla informs the teacher, who allows me to leave. Camilla wants to accompany me, but I politely refuse, assuring her that it’s nothing major, I’m fine. She doesn’t believe me, but acquiesces, and resumes her seat.

I manage to stay erect, out of the classroom, and into the hallway. It’s deserted, thank goodness.

The pressure is overwhelming, enough to make me sink to my knees. I try to walk when I crash into someone. A hand touches me, skin to skin. Someone is pulling me out of the depths. The darkness is gone.  I feel…alive. 

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, looking down.

I look up and see
him
.

His eyes are blue like the ocean he rescued me from.

“Are you all right?” he asks, in a foreign accent.

I’m speechless. He smells like sun-baked sand. I close my eyes and fall.

I feel arms around me, protective. I smell him. I open my eyes.

“What happened?” I ask.

“You fainted,” he says, still holding onto me.

“Oh,” I say, unable to say any more. 

“It was only for a little while. Are you all right? Should I call for help?”

I shake my head. “No, no, I’m fine.”

He smiles and lets me go. I should have lied. We stand there, assessing each other. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking I’ve been wrong this entire time. I thought he was the one drowning me. But he’s here and I’m…well, I’m better. I’m above water.

Who are you?

“I’m Gabriel,” he says, as if reading my thoughts.

“I’m Daria, nice to meet you,” I say. 

“Well, if you’re well, then I need to find my class. I’m already late.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, disappointed to see him go.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says, in farewell.

“You too,” I say.
Will I see you again?

We go our separate ways, until I stop, hearing him call my name.

“Yes?” I say, thrilled.

He hesitates, and then says, “What does ‘the answer is in the fountain’ mean?”

“Huh?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“You said it while unconscious.”

I shrug, feigning ignorance. He said that to me in a dream. I didn’t know what it meant then, and I don’t know now. 

“Nonsense, I guess,” I say. 

He seems unappeased, but smiles, nevertheless. “Oh, okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” I say, and watch him leave.

I go to the nurse anyway, feigning a headache. I need some time to think. She gives me two Tylenol and I sit, thinking. He has a name: Gabriel. 

Who are you, Gabriel? And what are you doing in Old Spanish Town?

I look at the clock. I’ve sat long enough. It’s time to go.             

I reenter class. The teacher inquires about my health. I tell her I’m fine. 

“Good, take your seat. You have a new partner.”

I turn towards my table that seats three. Camilla is at one end—and the other end—Gabriel, smiling at me. He gives me a wave. I wave back. The girls in the class are whispering, probably planning my early demise.

I take my seat. Camilla is uncharacteristically silent, for once.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” says Gabriel, leaning towards me.

I smile. It’s all I can do at this point. My heart is racing—then it skips a beat. I see Gabriel, staring at Camilla. I’m filled with hatred, rage, jealousy. But then I think, of course, he’d look at her. He’d choose her, not me. I’m such a fool.

When class ends, he turns to me and smiles. “I’m glad I was there to catch you.”

I’m about to smile when I see him glance at Camilla, interested.

My heart turns to stone. “Well, I’m sure someone else would’ve been there,” I say, rude.

He looks offended. 

“So, maybe we’ll see each other again?” he proposes.

“Maybe,” I say, refusing to set a date. I throw my book in my backpack and storm off.

I hear Camilla behind me, in the hallway, telling me to stop. I want to tell her to go to hell, but I stop. She stands beside me. 

“Hey, are you really okay?”

“What?” I say.

“Earlier—were you sick?” She’s concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

We’re walking down the hall. Camilla is smiling. “So, how’d you like our new partner?”

“How’d
you
like our new partner?” I shoot back.             

“What’s wrong with you?”

I shake my head. 

“Oh, about Frankie, earlier, right?”

“Yeah,” I lie.

“Don’t worry about him, chica.”

I stop abruptly in the hallway, causing students to curse at me.

“Camilla,” I say, “that new guy? He’s
him
.”

“Him who?” she asks, confused.

“The one from the beach—mysterious stranger with aviators,” I say.

She curses in Spanish. “Oh, goodness—well, then he’s our age, not old like you thought. He said you fainted—and that he caught you.”

I nod. “Yeah, he, um, held me, until I…woke.”

“Wow, that’s just…wow. Hey, if things don’t work out with Alejandro, you can hook up with him.”

I shake my head. “Doubt it.”

We continue walking. “He’s doing his senior year here,” Camilla informs. “He’s from Spain.”

“Spain?” I say. 

“Yeah, his full name is Gabriel Antonio del Castillo.”

The warning bell rings and we rush to class. 

Gabriel Antonio del Castillo. Fancy.

Camilla and I reach our next class, History, with Tony and Alejandro to greet us. I’m disappointed to not see Gabriel, although, I wish I’d never see him again.               

I wonder if I’ll drown again, today.

Tony greets Camilla with a modest kiss.

Alejandro does the same to me. I wonder what it would be like to kiss Gabriel. Soft and warm, I bet. Tender and experienced.

Alejandro is seated in front of me. He invites me to sit on his lap. I decline. I’m not ready—and besides, we’re not official.

He nods, although, disappointed. “I heard you had to go to the nurse this morning. Was it like last time, at the bowling alley?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But, I think I’m better now. I mean…I think it won’t happen again.”

“How do you know?”

I shrug. “I don’t, but…I feel different, I guess.”

Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

Alejandro takes my hand and kisses it. “I hope it’s over…whatever you’re going through.”

“Me too,” I say, smiling.

I feel like embracing Alejandro, telling him “I love you” too, but then,
he
walks in.     

Gabriel takes the empty desk behind me. Why couldn’t someone have already been sitting there? My fate is misery.

He still smells like sun-baked sand. Damn him to hell. 

I feel a tap on my shoulder. Alejandro glares behind me. I turn and smile at Gabriel, who’s smiling at me.

“Hello, again,” he greets.

“Hi,” I say, and then turn back around.

Alejandro takes my hand, again, and kisses it. “She’s my property,” he’s saying to Gabriel, in that gesture. I wonder if the Spaniard cares.

A poster on the wall catches my eye:

IF WE DON’T LEARN FROM HISTORY, WE’RE DOOMED TO REPEAT IT.

Have I learned? I wonder.

As Gabriel’s profound presence continues to exist behind me, I’m reminded that I’m not drowning. And he didn’t even touch me. I realize I want him to touch me. I want him to warm me like the sun. I clear my mind and focus on history.               

It’s boring, as usual, but I try to maintain focus, for the sake of my sanity. Damn you, Gabriel Antonio del Castillo. Damn you. 

The bell rings and I sneak a peek at Gabriel. He’s staring at Camilla. I grab Alejandro and kiss him madly. I hear a few whistles. I seek Gabriel. He’s already gone.

Alejandro cups my behind as we exit into the hallway. I need to be alone. We have English together, next, so I urge Camilla and Alejandro to go ahead, feigning a need to go to the bathroom.

Alejandro is hesitant to leave my side. I urge him to go, smiling, and he departs, with Camilla.

I don’t go to the bathroom, though. I head towards my locker. I pass by Gabriel, who smiles at me, but I frown, and act as if he’s a bother to my existence.

I reach my locker, fumbling with the combination. Gabriel is beside me, his scent giving off sun-baked sand—and mystery.

“Have I done something to offend you?”

I huff. “You, offend me? No, I’m fine.” The lock is against me, refusing to open.

“Well, you seem angry with me. I would like to know why? I’d like to fix whatever wrong I’ve committed against you.”

You stare at my friend when you should be staring at me!

“I’m not angry with you,” I lie, refusing to look at him. 

“You’re not?” He sounds skeptical.

“Nope,” I say, still fumbling with the combination. I realize that it’s not my locker. 

“Oh, well, that’s good. What is your next class? Mine’s English.”

What did he do? Plan out all this? 

“Me too,” I say, giving up on the locker, whoever it belongs to.

“Could I walk with you, there? I don’t know where it is.”

I hesitate, and then say, “Sure, whatever.”

I walk fast towards English class, but damn if he doesn’t keep up! When we enter, I notice that there are seating arrangements, alphabetical. I sit behind Alejandro, and Gabriel sits behind me, like in History. I never knew Senior Year was going to be this hard. And it’s only the first day!

Alejandro kisses me, again. I tolerate it. Camilla is already seated. I avoid looking at her, across the room. I feel like I’m going mad. I feel like a mermaid that’s on dry land.  I want to be submerged under water again. At least there, drowning, I know my fate.

I lean forward and tap Alejandro on the shoulder. He turns around and smiles.

“Alejandro, I don’t think we should kiss…anymore.”

He’s speechless, and then finding his voice, he says, “How long is ‘anymore’? What’s wrong?”

“I just think that we’re moving a bit too fast. Let’s be friends, okay?”

He clinches his jaw. He’s mad. I know what he’s thinking before he even says it.

“What we did…in my car…”

“I know, I know, and it shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry. I’m not ready. Please, give me some time.”

He briefly closes his eyes. He forces a smile. “Okay, Daria. I’ll wait.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Alejandro turns away from me. Gabriel is silent. I wish, right now, to submerge below the water, to feel the pressure of its density upon my shoulders, to push me down to its depths. I know my fate, there, in that dark realm.

It’s dark. The lights are out. We’re watching a documentary on American poets. I’m lost in Emily Dickenson when I feel a warm breath in my ear.

“Daria,” it whispers.

I turn around, but Gabriel is looking away, at the TV. He turns and catches my eyes. He smiles.

“Why do you smell like sun-baked sand?” I ask.

I hear a “Shush!” but I don’t relent, focusing on Gabriel. 

“Why?” I ask again, this time in a whisper.

He leans forward. We’re face to face. “Why do you smell like the ocean?”

“I do?”

He nods and smiles. “It’s intoxicating, the salt.”

“I smell like salt?” This conversation got weird, quick.

He licks his lips. “Yes, Daria, saltwater—I could swim in you.”

I stare into his blue eyes. “No, it’s you I could get lost in.”

The rest of the world has dissolved away. It’s only Gabriel and I—until I’m blinded by fluorescent lights. I’m at school, surrounded by students, by Alejandro, by Camilla.

Camilla.

Gabriel reaches out to take my hand.

“No,” I say, and pull away.  “No.” 

I flee and keep going, until I reach a secluded area of the school, a small L-shaped hall, dark. I press my body against the rough bricks. I imagine it is coral, and I’m in the ocean. I grind against the coral—welcoming the pain, the wounds, the blood. There are sharks in the water. Come and get me.             

“Daria,” he whispers.

I open my eyes. “Gabriel.”

He’s standing before me, exotic, arrogant, intoxicating.

“Who are you?”

“Gabriel Antonio del Castillo, at your service.”

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to come here.”

“Why?”

“I have relatives here.”

“Who?” I ask, bewildered.

“Your friend, Camilla—we’re cousins.”

I’m speechless, and then I say, “Cousins?”

“Distant,” he clarifies.

“Does Camilla know?”

“I think not. She hasn’t greeted me as family. I visited her father earlier, where he teaches at St. Francis. I was sure he would’ve told her, but…”

“Why haven’t you introduced yourself to her?”

“I’ve been distracted,” he says, smiling. He leans in. “Why do you smell like the ocean?”

My heart is racing. “Why do you smell like sun-baked sand?”

“Mysteries upon mysteries, Daria,” he says. “I’d like to get to know you.”

I reach out and touch his arm, strong and warm. “I’d like that too.”

“So, you’re not taken?”

I’m confused. “Taken?”

“The other boy I saw you kiss.”

I note he says “boy” as if he were distinct from such a classification: a man, fully grown.

“Oh? Alejandro? No, we’re just friends.”

“You make a habit of kissing your friends?”

“Sometimes,” I whisper.

“I hope we’re friends.”

I swallow, nervous. He wraps his arm around my waist, pressing me against his chest.

“You’re smooth, Spaniard, I’ll give you that.”

“I’ve had years to practice,” he says, brushing his warm lips against mine.

I smile against his lips. “You’ve been kissing girls since when? You can’t be but seventeen.”

“Does age matter to you?” he asks, seriously.

“When I first saw you, at the beach, I thought you were older. You look…older.”

He lets go of me. “You have no idea.”

“What does that mean?”             

“Goodbye, Daria,” he says, and walks away.

I dare not call out, saying goodbye. Damn you, Gabriel, who are you?

I sit next to Camilla at lunch, with Tony and Alejandro.

“Where’d you go?” she says. “You just fled.”

“I wasn’t feeling well, but now I’m better. Um, Camilla, I ran into that new guy, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, what?” she asks.

I glance at Alejandro. He looks jealous.               

I focus on Camilla. “He said you two were cousins—that he told your dad, but didn’t feel right introducing himself as family, nervous, I guess, or waiting on your dad to reveal the news.”

“Wow! Really?” she says. “I caught him staring at me, today, but I just thought, you know…” she trails off.

“Who was staring at you?” Tony demands.

Camilla waves a dismissive hand. “We’re cousins, no big deal.”

Tony spreads his hands. “No big deal?”

“I saw him looking at you,” Alejandro says to Camilla. He looks at me. “I saw him looking at you too.”

“We’re just friends,” I say, defensive.

“That was fast,” says Alejandro. 

“It’s no big deal,” I say, echoing Camilla—only we’re not relatives.

“No big deal,” Alejandro and Tony say in unison.

Camilla gives them a dismissive wave and turns back to me. “I’ll talk to papa. He’s so forgetful, though, so I can’t blame him for not telling me Gabriel is my cousin. We’ll have to have a cookout or something. You’ll come, of course,” she says to me. 

“Of course,” I say, not sure.

I stare into Camilla’s eyes. They are the same shade as Gabriel’s. How can the color blue be so inviting, yet so dangerous?