Maldeamores (Lovesick) (Heightsbound #0.5) (5 page)

Chapter 8

Belén

I
use a bristle brush and a little bit of gel to slick my hair up into a high ponytail, then work out the bumps by brushing it flat and pulling it tight until it’s all perfectly uniform. It’s two weeks until my birthday and I can’t wait.

Luciano probably forgot and he won’t even show up to cut the cake at my party. He’s been avoiding me ever since the day he gave me the self-defense lesson and it felt like we might kiss again. He only sticks around if our moms force him. He doesn’t even want to fight with me. I guess he’s mad or he thinks it’s gross, that time when we really did kiss. But I don’t think it was gross—and I’ll never forget it.

I know I feel guilty though, because when we went to church that Sunday, the day after it happened, I prayed for forgiveness and asked God to give me another chance. I promised him I’d remain pure until marriage. Kissing isn’t something I will ever take lightly. It made me feel like I’d have a heart attack when it was happening and then covered me with a layer of guilt so thick it took four candles, three Hail Marys and two rosaries to scrape it off. I guess that means the kiss was worth something.

After I finish all of my homework, I flip aimlessly through the TV channels with my feet on the coffee table. Mami won’t be home until dinnertime and Yari is at the dentist. Usually I’d go find Luciano but I’m scared to see him. He’ll say something about what happened and then I’ll die of embarrassment. But it’s hot in the apartment and my skin is itching to leave. Maybe I’ll just go sit on the stoop for a little bit and people-watch. See if anybody is out there.

I check my hair once more and then I fly down the stairs. I can smell all of the neighbors’ dinners starting to cook and the odors fill the stairwell. Mami will bring something home with her because on the nights she works late she has to cook for the old man she takes care of. She’ll fix extra and then bring it home for us. His has to go into the blender because he has no teeth left to chew with.

Mami wears turquoise scrubs to work and she takes care of two different people who can’t take care of themselves. She says she’s got practice already from my dad and then laughs like it’s the funniest joke. My dad hasn’t been around at all, he left when I was one. Luciano’s dad left too, and now he’s the only boy in our family if you don’t count Hemi’s boys, and believe me, nobody does.

But I got my eyes from my dad and my mom says all of my skinny bones came from him too.

She says, “Look at my hips!” when we stand side by side in the mirror, and she’s right, my hips don’t look like hers.

Luciano looks like his dad—that’s where he got freckles and his smile. His hair was even blondish when he was little, but it’s gone dark now like mine. Luciano looks strong and muscular and he also looks tough. Guys don’t mess with him much on the street because word got around that Luciano isn’t scared to fuck anybody up. But at home we can’t talk like that or even act like we’re street. Our moms would have our heads on sticks and feed us our own two feet for dinner if they knew how differently we acted outside of the house, especially Luciano. Titi would send Luciano to military school and to DR for the summer. It’s like at home he’s still a son and on the corner he’s a man. And not just a regular man, but a man who gets whatever he wants. Luciano wants to be just like Jaylee. I’m not dumb; I know what he does.

I plop my butt down on the top of the stoop; I like to steer clear of the last stairs. That way I can pop up quick and run inside if anything bad happens. Not like people are getting shot on the sidewalk every day, but it happens enough for me to always keep my guard up.

The sun is hot and sticky even though I’m wearing a halter top. I wander over to the bodega and buy myself an orange soda. The guy behind the counter hands me a straw and a bag, bypassing the line of people waiting to purchase lottery tickets or beer and loose cigarettes.

“Hey, Belén, how are you?”

I put two quarters down on the little counter in front of the Plexiglas window. I smile and say thank you and he hands me a pack of gum. I always get stuff for free at my corner deli. I think the guy has a crush on Mami. I can kind of tell from the way that he looks at her. I blow the paper off my straw and stick it in the can, but I keep the bag around it just because that’s the way Luciano does it.

He’s standing on the corner with friends when I head back to the stoop. I look down at the ground so I can pretend I didn’t see him and that I don’t care what he’s doing. They are speaking mostly in Spanish. There are a lot of FOBs around here, or hicks, like we call them. They don’t know how to ride the subway when they get here or even which way is downtown. Luciano and I both speak English better than Spanish. But Luciano is pretty good at talking to other people in either language.

We look up at the same time and our eyes meet. I look down quickly and I can feel my face turn red. Maybe I shouldn’t be embarrassed—he’s the one who kissed me. But I really wanted it, and when he had me against the refrigerator I was begging for the kiss. When he was teaching me to fight, I didn’t want him to ever stop touching me. But I didn’t know that it would be so awful afterwards and that it would make him hate me. And I feel guilty too, but I know for a fact at school that a lot of girls kiss their cousins—so it can’t be as bad as he’s acting.

I feel like his eyes are telling me a story and I just want to keep listening. I think there is so much inside of Luciano and I’ve seen a lot of it since we were kids, but I get the feeling it’s even bigger and I wish I could see inside of him to light up all of those dark corners. I know he wishes we had more money or that we had our dads around. I know he worries about the future and about his mom holding onto her job. I’ve heard them fight about him staying in school, and I’ve seen Titi cry when he says he wants to get a job so that he can support her.

“Hey, Belén!” one of the boys calls, and I look up to see them all staring in my direction. I put my drink down and stand up and then slowly walk over. I hope they’re not playing a trick or teasing me and I’m the punch line of their joke. I don’t know how Yari can hang out with them—I just don’t trust boys their age. Boys in the neighborhood are bad news, especially these ones who practically live on the corner.

“Leave her alone,” Luciano says and looks at me sharply, jerking his head toward our front door. He wants me to go inside and not be the victim of their fun. But I want to show Luciano that I’m tough, I can take it—show him I can be like other girls. I want him to see that maybe other boys have crushes on me too.

“Belén, go upstairs,” he says as I walk closer to their group.

“Let her stay, Lucky,” one of them says. “She looks just like Eva Mendes.”

“Hey, Lucky, does your cousin suck dick?” another one says, and now I know I should turn around. But my feet keep on walking and bringing me closer.

My mom once told me that men can smell fear just like horses do, so you have to pretend when you’re around them. Show them you’re tough and that you won’t back down for anything. If they get a whiff of your fear they might go crazy and attack you.

Luciano grabs my arm and pulls me right through the center of the group. I sort of slam up against his side from the momentum and a smile slides up my face even though I don’t want it to.

“Even if I went all the way with a boy—like I’d ever tell you guys,” is all I can think of to say in retaliation. I want to be one of the girls who aren’t afraid. I want to be cool.

“Holy shit, Belén!” one boy directly behind me says.

“Oh, fuck!” says another one and now they’re all laughing.

I’m smiling and blushing because I’m not sure what they’re all getting at. Luciano grabs my arm and yanks me toward our building.

“Let go!” I say firmly. “I want to stay out until later.”

“No, you don’t. Come. Now,” he says, and I can’t say no to him. He’s too pissed off and I can tell he won’t take no for an answer.

“What are they all talking about, anyway?” I ask as he drags me toward home again.

“Wait till we get upstairs,” Luciano says still forcefully pulling me.

“What’s your problem—” I say but stop short at the stoop when I look down to see my soda and the dark smear next to it on the cement steps.

“No!” I gasp and then take off running toward my apartment.

This can’t be happening to me right now. Not in front of those boys, not in front of my cousin. I’m making noises that are kind of like sobs all filled up with regret. But Luciano has caught up to me on the stairs and is trying to comfort me.

“My mom’s at work,” I say, hiding my face from him.

“Is this the first time?” he asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

We’re on his landing and he fishes for his keys. I just stand still, sobbing, wishing I could erase this whole stupid day.

“Come in, Belén,” he says, gesturing with his head to the apartment. He’s got the key in the door and is holding it open. I follow him in, holding my own shoulders. I feel like I don’t have a choice and I’m not really sure why. I should go upstairs to my own apartment, take off my dirty clothes and wash myself in the bathtub. He tosses his keys onto the table and disappears into the bathroom. He comes out with sanitary napkins and holds the green package out to me.

I’m dying of embarrassment; I couldn’t possibly feel more humiliated. I take the pads from him without saying anything and head into the bathroom. I pull my pants down to inspect and it doesn’t even really look like blood. It looks dark and kind of scares me and I just sit on the toilet. Luciano opens the door a crack and I scream in protest.

“
Cálmate
, Belén!” he shouts and tosses a pair of Titi’s underwear and some black leggings into the bathroom. He comes back a few seconds later and pushes a plastic bag around the corner.

“Put the dirty clothes in here. We can send them to the laundry.”

“Okay. Thanks,” I manage, feeling absolutely mortified.

I stuff my dirty clothes in the bag and attach a pad to the underwear. Then I pull on Titi’s leggings and carefully wash my hands, looking for traces of blood everywhere.

When I finally work up the nerve to step out of the bathroom, Luciano is on the couch watching television like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling more awkward than ever. “Guess I’ll go upstairs and wait for my mom to come home.”

Luciano turns to look at me and gestures with his head again. On the table is a glass of water with a pill sitting next to it.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m okay,” I say. “I don’t really feel anything.”

“My mom always takes them. You’ll get cramps if you don’t. And if you’re anything like my mom then you’ll be down for the count.”

I take the pill and it’s hard to swallow. I feel so grateful to Luciano but I also feel stupid and ashamed of what happened.

“Do you think those guys will make fun of me at school?” I ask, terrified of his answer.

“If they try to, Belén, I promise to knock all of their teeth out.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“Why? Every girl gets it. Better on the stoop than at school or far away from home with no tampons,” he says and shrugs like he’s some kind of period expert.

“How come it’s no big deal to you?” I ask, stalling the goodbye.

“’Cause I live with a woman. And it isn’t a big deal, Belén—it was bound to happen sooner or later. You’re not a kid anymore.”

I say, “Okay, thanks, Luciano,” but it comes out in a whisper.

He’s looking at the TV again and endlessly flipping the channels. I want to ask him about the kiss. I kind of want to kiss him again. But he seems to have lost interest in me so I leave without really knowing how to thank him.

Three months later my period is yesterday’s news. I have pads and tampons, Advil and notes for gym at school. Luciano stayed true to his promise that no one would tease me. I’m not sure how he makes them listen to him, but they do and I guess that’s all that’s important. I think maybe it was good to get it in front of Luciano because at least he’s family. Maybe now he’ll take me more seriously since I’m a grown woman. But we haven’t been alone together without Mami or Titi. I want to tell him thank you and I really want to kiss him.

One night after drama club when I unlock the front security door, I can smell weed in the hallway. I know what it smells like from more than one of Mami’s old boyfriends. The scent gets stronger as I climb up the stairs. When I get to the top floor, I can see that door to the roof is open and someone is smoking up there. I put my key in the lock and push open the door.

“Belén!” I hear someone whisper. I jump when I hear it and pull the door closed again.

“Lucky?” I ask, peering up at the dark door.

“I’m on the roof, Cuz. Come look at the moon.”

“Alone?” I ask, thinking he’s up there with a girl.

“Yeah, fucking alone, now get your ass out here.”

The door is like a hatch and you have to climb up a steel ladder. Our building has no roof access, so Lucky must have messed with the alarm. I push back the hatch and stick my head out the hole. He’s sitting on his butt near the hatch, staring up at the stars.

He’s got a hollowed-out cigar beside him and a pile of tobacco. There’s a baggie full of weed and I really don’t want to get in trouble. But the desire to be near Lucky is stronger than my good judgment. There is no barrier on our roof and you could just roll over and tumble into darkness, split your head on the pavement. Become tomorrow’s hot news story.

I push with my arms but I can’t seem to make the distance between the last rung and the opening. I grunt a little trying and Lucky stands up, wobbles over and puts both of his hands under my armpits. With me pushing and him pulling I make it through the open hatch. It’s almost quiet up here in the dark, so far away from the street. The night sky is open and clear and perfect for stargazing, that is, if you could actually see stars in Manhattan.

“Want to smoke?” Lucky says, lifting a half-burnt blunt.

I shake my head and he puts it back down and shrugs.

“Why are you up here alone?”

“Just needed some space,” Lucky says, his words sounding wistful.

I understand completely because his mother is just like my mother and they can get out of hand when they get all up in your business. Lucky crosses his ankles and leans back on his palms, fingers splayed against the tar. He looks up at the sky and sighs and I look up with him.

“This is nice. I feel like we haven’t hung out in years,” I say but then feel dumb because my words sound too honest.

Lucky nods, then he looks at me and I look down at my hands.

“I tried, you know, staying away from you after what happened.”