The Temptation of Demetrio Vigil (20 page)

I
sat
picking at a slice of pepperoni pizza on a white paper plate, at a
booth at Dion’s, a bright, rowdy, slightly upscale local pizza
chain popular with kids my age. Ordinarily I would have devoured
the savory, slightly spicy pizza - which I considered to be the
best in town. But I’d lost my appetite. While my teammates were all
sitting with each other and their own friends and family at tables
and booths all around me, I sat next to Kelsey, with Logan and my
mother across from me, giving me the third-degree about Demetrio,
while Victoria and Thomas listened in the next booth.

“Why didn’t you tell me a
gang
member had called
911 for you?” my mother demanded. “Do you have any idea what having
a guy like that hanging around us will do for my career,
m’ija?”

“Maybe she was hiding something,”
suggested Logan. “I know your daughter very well, Ms. Romero, and
she’s been acting
very
different ever since that crash.”

“Your career?” Kelsey asked my mother. “Is that
really your top concern right now? My God!”

“No, that is not my top concern.
Obviously, my daughter’s safety is my top concern.” My mother
looked from Kelsey to me and said, “You
can
’t get involved with people like
that. You are so trusting and naive, honey. It’s not good for you.
You don’t seem to understand what you’re getting yourself into. I’m
sure it’s partly my fault because I sheltered you so much growing
up, when I should have at least shown you what was out there. This
boy is no good. Understand? No good.”

I stared at the pizza, which was quickly growing
cold, and stayed mute. There was nothing to say to them. They
didn’t understand.

“Well, I
like
him,” said Kelsey, always
braver than I was. “He’s nice, and he seems smart and funny. He’s
very polite.”

“You
would
like him,” sneered
Logan.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she reacted.

“It means you’re a bottom-feeder who’s always
feeling sorry for losers.”

“Not
always
,” Kelsey volleyed back, her
face reddening with anger, “because I’ve never felt sorry
for
you
.”

“Stop it,” my mother spat. “Both
of you. This is serious. Maria. Maria! Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I met her eyes.

“This
has
to stop, do you hear me?
Whatever you have with that boy, it stops right here, right
now.”

“He’s just a
friend
!
God
!” I screamed, unable to stand it
anymore. I slammed my hand down on the tabletop, startling my
mother tremendously. Logan didn’t flinch.

“You have lots of friends, honey,”
my mother said, looking as if she might cry. “You don’t
need
friends like
that.”

“Like
what
?” I cried. “You’ve never even
met him! You don’t know what you’re
talking
about! This is
insane!”

Logan guffawed and guzzled what was left of his
large soda. I looked back at Victoria and Thomas. Victoria mouthed
“I agree,” and Thomas avoided my eyes.

“You can tell a lot about a person by the clothes
they wear, and the way they move, these are the messages they’re
choosing to send out into the world about themselves,” my mother
lectured.

“I used to agree with you,” I told her, my voice
shaking with the pressure and terror of standing up to her, in this
very public setting. My pulse raged as though I were running a
race. I knew my teammates were listening in, and I just didn’t care
anymore. I just wanted out of this. “The first time I saw him, I
was afraid of him, too. But he’s not like that.”

My mother looked at Logan for support and said, “I
swear to God, I think she hit her head in that crash. They did a
CAT scan, and it came back normal, but I think I’m going to go back
to the doctor and demand that they give her an MRI instead. They
missed something. I mean, look at her! Listen to her!”

“Mom! I’m fine.”

“Sure, that’s why you called me
Friday night to tell me you wanted to see a therapist, because
you’re
fine
!” She
said this so loudly I was certain everyone in the restaurant had
heard her. I’d never been so humiliated in my life.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” I said to
her as the tears built up and spilled over onto my cheeks. Ashamed,
I buried my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she hissed, lowering
her voice now that she realized her mistake. “But I can’t let you
destroy yourself, Maria.”

“By having a friend from a different town than we’re
from?” I asked, incredulously. “How, exactly, is that ruining
myself?”

“I see how he looks at you,” said Logan. “It’s not
safe for you.”

“Beyond that, m’ija, you need to understand what
goes on in these rural towns in New Mexico. There’s high use of
drugs, and there are gangs in that area, m’ija, that’s what his
tattoos mean. You probably don’t realize that.”

“I do.”

My mother looked disappointed and shocked at the
same time. “Then why are you even talking to him?”

“He’s not into that stuff anymore, mom.”

“That’s what they all say. The Mexican cartels are
infiltrating a lot of these little towns, honey. Do you ever watch
the news? Honestly. You have to be smart with the choices you make
in life. It’s not that I’m prejudiced, so you can stop looking at
me like that.”

“Yes it
is
! That’s exactly what it
is!”

“No, it’s not. Our family comes
from humble beginnings, too. It’s not just
that
. I have plenty of poor
supporters. He is a
gang
member, Maria.”

“And he looks at her in a filthy way I hate,” said
Logan, making sure we’d all heard him.

I narrowed my eyes at my boyfriend, desperate for
him not to be my boyfriend anymore. “Oh?” I asked him. “Does he
look at me like he’d grab me and whisper ugly things in my ear,
like you did today? In front of my mom and friends?”

“What are you-”

I interrupted Logan. “I do
not
like how you treated
me today, and I won’t put up with it. I’m - I’m not your property,
Logan. I’m my own person!”

“What? I was protecting you!” he cried. “What are
you going off about?”

My mother put her hand on his shoulder. “She doesn’t
know what she’s saying,” my mom told him. “She’s so innocent. It’s
my fault. She must’ve hit her head in that crash.”

“Kelsey,” I groaned, looking to her for help.

“Have you had enough of this?” she
asked me. “Because I
have
. I think we should
go.”

“I’m not finished, young lady,” spat my mother.

“Well I am,” I said.

I looked at Logan, and began to
tremble in anticipation of what I’d say next. “I’m - I’m finished
with
you
, too.
We’re over.” I took the locket from around my neck, and handed it
to him, while everyone who was anyone from my school watched us and
pretended not to be paying attention.

“You can’t do this,” he said,
stunned. “No one dumps
me
. We love each other.”

“That’s true,” I said. “I do love you. And I don’t
want anything bad to happen to you. But sometime, love isn’t
enough.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he told me. “You’ve gone off the
deep end.”

“There you go again, calling her
stupid!” Kelsey screamed at him. “That’s twice in one day!” My best
friend looked at my mother now, and said, “You think that’s good
for your daughter, Ms. Romero? Being called stupid by this
meathead? Just because his dad donates a shitload of money to your
campaigns? You should be ashamed of yourself, selling your own
daughter out like that. It’s disgusting! You’re a pimp, Ms.
Romero.”

“Don’t you speak to me that way, Kelsey Epstein,”
said my mother, seething. “I’ll tell your parents!”

“Go ahead!” Kelsey said. “Tell
them! Guess what? They
agree
with me. They’d never say it to your face,
though, because unlike some people at this table, they know when to
shut the hell up.”

“Well, I
never
,” said my mother.

“You’re going to regret this,” said Logan to me.

“Is that a
threat
?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Mom! He just threatened me!”

“He’s trying to
help
you,” said my
mother. “Just like I am!”

“I don’t believe this,” I wailed.

“Let’s go,” said Kelsey, exiting the booth so that I
could scoot out. She took my hand.

My mother grabbed my other hand.
“Do
not
leave. If
you know what’s good for you, do not leave this table, young lady.
We’re doing this for your own
good
, m’ija.”

“Let
go
of me,” I said. “I
do
know what’s good for
me. And it’s not sitting here being attacked by you in front of my
friends. I think you’re the one who needs therapy, not
me!”

I pulled my hand away from her. Her nails were dug
in so deeply they left long scratches on the back of my hand. I
hurried with Kelsey out of the restaurant. My mother called out
after me one or two times, but mercifully did not follow. We rushed
to my Land Rover, and climbed in, locking the doors behind us.

“What about your car?” I asked her.

“I’ll get it later.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Just drive.”

I pulled the car onto Academy Boulevard, shaking
from rage and humiliation, and headed West. Kelsey and I vented for
a few minutes about the horrible lunch, and then got to talking
about the odd coincidence of the South Valley High team’s
performance, given the events in my life. We also talked about how
good they were.

“How about a movie?” I asked. “I feel like sitting
in the dark, in someone else’s world for a while, far from my
mother.”

“Sounds good.”

I guided the car toward out favorite theaters, not
knowing exactly what was showing, but willing to see just about
anything at that moment.

“So you think all these coincidences mean
something?” I asked her, even though I sort of knew they did, in my
gut.

“Seems like it, but who knows?” she asked. “Anything
could be a coincidence, kind of like horoscopes, if you think about
it hard enough. People can pretty much justify just about anything,
don’t you think?”

“Here,” I said. “Turn on the radio. Let’s see what’s
on. We’ll try to make it a coincidence. Maybe you’re right.”

“Just to a random station?”

“Yeah, FM. Just turn it on.”

She did, and to our amusement -
and a bit creepily, I might add - Usher’s “You Make Me Wanna” was
on.
You make me wanna leave the one I’m
with, start a new relationship with you, this is what you
do....

“Okay, fine,” I said, with a little thrill. “Maybe
it’s all what we make of it, but you have to admit, that song is
totally fitting for me right now.”

“Then that would mean that all the coincidences on
earth are about you,” complained Kelsey.

“True. But maybe they are right now.”

“Or maybe millions of people get together and break
up each and every day,” she huffed, “which is why that’s what every
pop song in the world is about.”

“True.”

“Let’s change it to a random station and see if it’s
still something we can justify,” she said.

Kelsey spun the dial randomly, and the song came
back as “Gangsta Love,” by Snoop Dogg.

We both laughed at this one.

“Too weird,” she said. “Then again, it could just be
sad that the so-called gangsta culture is something big
corporations glamorize for a profit as a conspiracy to keep people
down. Maybe it’s nothing more than that.”

“Do it again,” I cried.

This time, the song was “Lean Like a Cholo.”

“See?” said Kelsey. “You can find personal meaning
in everything, once you start looking for it. Or corporate
appropriation of barrio culture.”

“So you’re saying the coincidences don’t really mean
anything?” I asked her.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Do it one more time, and the next song will be the
answer from the universe to the question, ‘do your coincidences
mean anything,’ I said.”

Kelsey did as I asked, and the song, shockingly,
came up as the same one the dance team from South Valley High had
used.

We looked at each other, stunned.

“Okay, that’s maybe a little creepy,” she said.

“Or not,” I told her. “Depending on how you look at
it. Maybe it’s comforting. Maybe someone’s looking out for me.”

“Yeah,” she said with a snort. “Me. I’m looking out
for you.”

I smiled at her, grateful. “Yeah. And I love you for
it.”

“Dork,” she said, and my shaking,
like my rage, disappeared in a laugh.

♦

Demetrio texted me during the movie. I was
so happy to hear from him that I walked out of the darkened theater
to call him from the hallway. I told him all about the lunch, and
the coincidences, and the movie, and asked him what he was up to.
He said he had some time off work and would love to meet us for
“coffee or whatever you fancy people do on Sunday afternoons.” I
agreed we’d meet him at a cafe near the theater, after the movie
was out. When I told Kelsey, however, she said she needed to get
home to do some studying, and asked that I take her to her car
instead. I did just that, and called Demetrio to ask if he could
meet me at the Starbucks near Academy and Tramway instead, as it
was closer to my house. He agreed, but emphasized he’d have to keep
it short because of his curfew.