Mick and michelle, p.21
Mick & Michelle, page 21
“I’m into guys.” His hazel eyes widen, and a tiny squeak pushes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t break the staring contest.
He breathes out. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. It’s that Gabriel dude, then? You’re into him?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Never mind. There’s more. I gotta tell you something else.”
“Am I involved in this something else…?”
“No, Diego. I’m not into you. I’m not gay,” I say.
“Huh?”
“I’m a girl,” I tell him. He blinks but doesn’t move or respond. “You hear me? I’m not a guy. At all.” I get up on my feet, maybe to run. Not because he’ll beat me up but because this is Diego, and if he rejects me, I need a hell of a lot of time away from here to collapse entirely.
Diego’s sweating so bad, it’s as if he’s a glacier caught by global warming. When large chunks of ice fall off glaciers, it’s called calving. I did a project on Greenland glaciers a few months ago. I know everything about them, but I don’t know everything about my melting friend. Right now Diego looks like he’s about to calve his largest limb, his head. He rubs his eyes, strokes his shaved scalp, leaves his jaw unhinged and mouth gaping. Not a pretty sight. If I’m unlucky, he’ll hurl his calved head at me and give me a meltdown to remember.
“You’re serious?” His voice reaches falsetto for the first time since he was thirteen and a half and overjoyed to have his voice breaking first among the guys in our year. That earned him very many macho points back then. The smallest guy in class sounded like a man all of a sudden. Yeah, that caused some well-earned popularity havoc. At least it did among the guys, though a couple of the more developed girls, who ignored useless boys and only ever dreamed about the guys in high school, did provide Diego with a) brief touchdowns with boobs, fully clothed of course, and b) a few kissing lessons, except the girls weren’t satisfied with his applied knowledge and gave him the hard-forgotten nickname “slobber-tongue,” which stuck until we started freshman year and Diego was forgotten.
“Right,” he says. “Right,” he repeats and jumps to his feet, facing me. I nod. I nod and nod and nod until I’m dizzy enough for my knees to wobble, and bile crawls its way up my throat. I sit down again and look up at him through hands half covering my face.
“Oh my fucking God. My best friend is a girl? Jesus, Jesus, Jesús cristo.” The falsetto is jammed in his throat now. He looks cute again, with confusion written all over his face in huge letters. “Caught me off guard there, Mick,” he says, shaking as he sits down next to me, so close our shoulders touch. Is he shaking from mental overdrive? Or just brimming with anger? Can even soft souls such as Diego’s turn to violence and murder if caught completely off guard, like he is now?
“And you don’t have the hots for me?” What if I do? What will he say or do then?
“I don’t like you like you, Diego,” I say, the truth being simple enough.
“Why not?” he says huskily, leaning away from me while studying my face. Damn, his eyes seem to be melting too. They’re dams about to spill over. Diego only cries when someone close has died or when he’s been betrayed, and that last happened first thing sophomore year, with his namesake and supposed buddy, Diego Olsson, taking his dream place on the varsity basketball team through stamping on Diego’s leg with all the evil intent in the world and breaking it.
Like I’m breaking something right now.
“I’m not contagious,” I whisper when he leans even farther away from me.
“This is bad. Seriously bad.” His voice is back to a more shaky normal, but the water in his eyes still threatens to explode out of his sockets.
“I’m still me.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m the same,” I insist.
Diego shakes his head. “Jesus, Mick.” And then he scoots close enough to hug me. “Diana’s gonna die when she finds out,” he says as his eyes spill over. “And stupid people will freak out. Oh man,” he says, his voice a low sob. “The narrow-minded douchebag assholes will have a field day. I can’t protect you from all of them. You gotta hire someone to bodyguard you when I’m not around.”
“What—”
“Hell, I’m freaking out here. Sooo bad. Don’t worry. I’ll come around.” He lets go of me, waving his arms about as if he’s chasing off a swarm of bees. “Just let me process. You know I’m kind of a slow learner. Oh God—”
“So you’re okay with this?”
“No!” he shouts. “I mean, kind of. I don’t know. Probably,” he says lower. “You… I… I’m…. Stop staring at me!” He leans against the door behind us.
“You’re crying, so I guess you believe me.”
“I can’t stop my head from spinning. This is insane. I mean, I’ve heard about this stuff, but I never thought… you know…. You’re not exactly girly or anything. Sure you’re not gay? Or mad as a hatter?”
“I’m sure.”
Diego’s phone buzzes.
“Diana?” I ask.
“Who else?” he replies. Psychic bond, all right.
“What’s she saying?”
“Asks what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m doing. I half feel like beating you up for hiding this from me. From us. From everyone. Maybe everyone will want to beat you up, and that’s not right either. Not like you’ve done anything wrong. You’re like the bravest person on earth, aren’t you?”
My phone buzzes next. Diana, sending me a selfie with paint circles on her cheeks.
Four weeks to go! she texts. Now allowed ten minutes on phone every day. Yay!
“You think Di will freak?” She’s always unpredictable, which I like about her. Just not right now.
“She’ll probably want to spray can you to death for telling me first, but you know her. She’d sell her kidney to help. She’d steal mine too, if I refused to give it up. You better talk to her pronto, Canelo. Hey, Canela now, I guess. Jeez, this is weirder than weird.”
“Can you say my name, if I tell you what it is?”
“No.” He holds up a hand. “Maybe some other day. Baby steps.”
Someone tries to open the door and pushes Diego toward me.
“What’s going on?” Ash says, stepping onto the porch. She takes one look at me, one look at Diego, and beams. “Heh-hey. The ball is rolling?”
I nod.
“And you’re still here, Diego-Phobia? Not bad.” She pats his shoulder.
“Of course I’m still here. I’m not as narrow-minded as you think.”
“You look like hunted prey. Want me to kiss it away?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, looking like he believes every word.
“Dream on,” Ash says.
“Damn,” he replies.
Ash immediately goes up to him and puts her hands around his neck, draws him down to her mouth, and gives him a loud smack of her lips on his.
“More of those where that came from, if you stay loyal,” she says, giving him a wink before sprinting up the stairs.
“I’m in!” he hollers after her, a look of joy, disbelief, and disgusting horny confusion plastered all over his face.
“That’s all it takes to not make you run off and never speak to me again?” I say, the surreal scene not quite convincing me things could be that easy. “Kissing bribes from my sister?”
“Yep,” he confirms. “I stand by you, no problem. Thank your sis all the way. When is she leaving again?”
“I’m going to break down and cry now,” I say.
“Want me to stay?”
“No.”
“See you later, then,” he says and takes off, leaving the door wide open.
I don’t cry. I laugh as if there’s no tomorrow.
Chapter 33
I KNEW Diego couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. Di probably dragged the news out of him quite effortlessly, and maybe not at all, the first time they spoke or texted or whatever after Diego left my house. I’m not the least surprised when I find a message from her, saying Confirm that Diego is pulling my leg. ASAP.
For once I have no immediate response. No quick retort, no confirmation that she’s been had, or me stringing her along a bit longer and having fun with it. Those are old days now, so after a few hours of mulling, I just write, Everything he told you is true.
When she doesn’t reply, I assume she’s cut off from the world as per usual this summer. I go for a run with Ma to avoid thinking about Di’s reaction, and despite running on needles, I don’t vomit into the bushes or go faint with dizziness this time. I even manage to have a half-intelligible exchange with Ma as we run.
“You did say you wanted to be a girl once, when you were four or five. You threw a tantrum because Ash got a new dress and you didn’t get one too. That’s the only time, I think,” she says. “I thought a lot about it. Nothing else stands out.”
“I don’t remember thinking about it,” I say. “Not until I was maybe twelve or so.”
“But how could we miss it if you were so unhappy?”
“I’m not unhappy, Ma. I’m just not entirely happy. It’s hard to explain.”
“I think maybe this explains why you’ve been so set on following the rules. It’s a way of not drawing attention to yourself.”
“I honestly think the rule thing only has to do with wanting to be a cop, Ma. I liked following the rules long before I realized I’m a girl.”
“That’s true. I’m glad you are who you are no matter what. We’ll talk through this in more detail. Soon, I promise. Make a plan. Are you worried about telling people?”
“I already told Gabriel. And Diego. Who told Diana.”
“And?”
“Gabriel lied to you about being sick. Diego accepted my story. Don’t know about Di. No word so far.”
“Honey, this will be difficult for you. More difficult than it is right now.”
“But okay in the end, right?”
“Yes. But please, you need to tell us when you’re down. You need supporters. Your old friends might not be among them. I’ve been surprised and let down enough times to know this.”
“You don’t think Di will step up?”
“She’s just a bit… egoistic, is all.”
“She stands up for herself, Ma. Nothing wrong in that. She’s a good friend.”
My belief that Diana will support me disintegrates when she finally does reply. I never expected her to crush me with one cruel word, impersonalized by way of a text message and hitting me so deeply I’m sick to the bone from reading it:
Traitor.
I collapse on my bed, and as I scramble to not hyperventilate, she sends off more crushing words unleashed in anger and maybe even some sadness.
A girl? Really? You? Loco.
I don’t fucking believe it.
Your dick must be really small.
You’re clearly psycho.
Reading those messages once is enough. Delete, delete, delete, but my memory proves more reluctant when it comes to erasing awful stuff. The words are stapled to my memory lobes. They gut me and rip me wide open.
The howl on the inside uses a sledgehammer to try to burst free from my twisted body. I hold it down, but it builds and builds, an agony that spreads up my feet, through my belly, it conquers my lungs and crawls up my neck to gain supreme control of my mind too.
Diego involves himself in the imminent breakdown, sending me a message, warning me that she sounded pissed and saying Di forced the info out of him. Pissed? Forced?
I almost laugh, because there’s never any force involved between the two of them. They can argue, beat each other, say nasty things, and have widely different opinions, but they are forever a unit.
I want to confront her. I want to hear her say it.
She doesn’t answer when I call her. Coward.
When Diana drives home the toreador’s final spear with another text, a searing pain spreads through me like the burning tentacles of the jellyfish that stung me so badly when I was ten that I ended up in the ER:
I’ll never speak to you again, bitch.
Bitch. So she believes me. But my best friend, who always said she wasn’t my best friend because I was a guy, has proved herself to be the worst friend ever. Briefly imagining this outcome is one thing, but having to face it in real life is a terribly different one.
Her messages appear on repeat in my head like primitive sound torture. All night I howl, cry, and sob. No one hears me, because Dad is on duty and Ma is out planning a training regime with her marathon buddies. Ash, unusual for a weekend, has volunteered to step in for a sick colleague at the nursing home. I’m on my own.
If this is what it feels like to stay true to oneself, I hate it.
If I wasn’t such a girl, I’d smash the house. If I wasn’t such a goody-two-shoes, I’d go out on the street and find something to shoot up my veins with and forget this disaster.
As if I’d ever do something that stupid.
So I roar, and I wail, and I pray the neighbors don’t hear and hope that if I let every bit of anguish out now, maybe I’ll cope in the morning. And the day after.
Maybe.
Always.
Chapter 34
DIEGO COMES to my door and gives me a hug, obviously disappointed by his twin’s unforgiving stance. I feel so bad when I find myself yearning for it being Diana embracing me like that instead of her awesome brother that I excuse myself and rush up to the bathroom.
In front of the mirror, I smack myself in the face to keep the tears at bay, and I tell myself to suck it up. She’s no longer my best friend, let alone my friend. I might as well accept it and move on. Cry another day, at least. I approach myself as if following a self-help manual of some sort. Very weird. I’m not convinced I believe in any of it.
Focus, focus, focus.
I have one friend standing up for me, going the opposite direction of his sister. That’s rarely happened before. Diego, I realize, is the real deal.
“Why are you the one who’s so accepting? Why can’t your sister be?” I say when I come downstairs and find him slouching on the sofa. I ask because I’m curious about his unflinching loyalty to me, not because I still cry for her attention. Honestly.
“She’ll come around. Eventually. Maybe.” He scratches his chin, searches for any signs of hair growing. He waits eagerly for the day he can shave. He’s got it into his head that girls yearn for a bit of stubble, but I don’t know if I can tell him that I think he’s right.
“You sure?”
“I hope so. Would suck for things to stay this awkward between you. I’m giving her hell for it, don’t worry. She’s not told anyone, far as I know.”
“I don’t care.”
“Of course you care.”
“Yeah….”
“Yeah.”
“So things aren’t awkward between you and me?”
“Uhm….”
“Just say it.”
“I don’t know where to look half the time. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but I don’t wanna lie now when I’ve always been up front with you before.”
“Much appreciated, actually. What will you do when I start hormones and everything changes?”
“Probably freak a little. I’ll also give the curious onlookers the stink eye. I’ll have your back at school, no problem. But yeah, it’ll be awkward. I sort of pictured you and me as best buds. Doesn’t work the same way if you’re a girl.”
“Nothing if about it. I am a girl.”
“What if you… like… are into me? You know….”
“Diego, trust me. I’m not into you. I’ll never be into you.”
“Why aren’t any girls into me, though? With you being a girl, you should be able to tell me. What’s so damn off-putting about me?”
“Carmen was into you.”
“Yeah, I guess. But I got the feeling she latched on to me purely because I was the only guy around for miles. She went to an all-girls school too. She was probably just another desperada and grabbed the first male in sight.”
“Lucky you, anyway. You had three girls chasing you, right?”
“Yeah, lucky me.” He has that sad puppy look on his face, and I admit it’s a bit adorable.
“Come on, don’t beat yourself up about it,” I say, hopefully sounding encouraging. “Second base, right? That’s way farther than plenty guys we know have gone.”
“But now I won’t ever discuss this shit with you again. I can’t do that with you being a girl. I have to be careful now, with the words I use. No more pussy jokes. No more toto or mama pinga.”
“You never used those words before either, moron.”
“Only the once.”
“And then your mama washed out your mouth with soap. Diego, buddy. We can talk about the same things as before. I’m just changing my name, my body, some of my clothes… well, maybe all of my clothes.”
“You don’t think it’ll get weird?”
“Oh, it’ll get weird okay. But I think we’ll sort it out.”
He smiles at me, nods. Chuckles and shakes his head.
“Wanna hear something crazy?” he asks.
“More crazy stuff? Bring it on!”
“I imagined you and me going to the academy together,” he says, very fast. “And, you know, having this 21 Jump Street movie thing going on. We would be excellent cops, obviously. Not morons, like.”
“You want to be a cop?” This is rather surprising news. His mother has basically been grooming him and one of his brothers to take over the family florist shop. She wants to expand and open a second one. She probably thought the future of the Diaz flower dynasty secured when a daughter popped out. Di never wanted to have anything to do with the flowers, and I guess Mrs. Diaz realized a long time ago that keeping the very reluctant Di away from the store meant a better deal for all parties involved, including the flowers. With Diego out of the picture too, her options are dwindling.
“Yeah. I think so. Officer Diego Diaz. Has a nice ring to it, right?” He grins and repeats his future title with a commanding voice.
“Cool.”
“Cooler than florist, absolutely.”
“I think we’ll be fine,” I say. “Diaz and Mullins reporting for duty. I’ll do the driving. You’re too easily distracted.”
He breathes out. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. It’s that Gabriel dude, then? You’re into him?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Never mind. There’s more. I gotta tell you something else.”
“Am I involved in this something else…?”
“No, Diego. I’m not into you. I’m not gay,” I say.
“Huh?”
“I’m a girl,” I tell him. He blinks but doesn’t move or respond. “You hear me? I’m not a guy. At all.” I get up on my feet, maybe to run. Not because he’ll beat me up but because this is Diego, and if he rejects me, I need a hell of a lot of time away from here to collapse entirely.
Diego’s sweating so bad, it’s as if he’s a glacier caught by global warming. When large chunks of ice fall off glaciers, it’s called calving. I did a project on Greenland glaciers a few months ago. I know everything about them, but I don’t know everything about my melting friend. Right now Diego looks like he’s about to calve his largest limb, his head. He rubs his eyes, strokes his shaved scalp, leaves his jaw unhinged and mouth gaping. Not a pretty sight. If I’m unlucky, he’ll hurl his calved head at me and give me a meltdown to remember.
“You’re serious?” His voice reaches falsetto for the first time since he was thirteen and a half and overjoyed to have his voice breaking first among the guys in our year. That earned him very many macho points back then. The smallest guy in class sounded like a man all of a sudden. Yeah, that caused some well-earned popularity havoc. At least it did among the guys, though a couple of the more developed girls, who ignored useless boys and only ever dreamed about the guys in high school, did provide Diego with a) brief touchdowns with boobs, fully clothed of course, and b) a few kissing lessons, except the girls weren’t satisfied with his applied knowledge and gave him the hard-forgotten nickname “slobber-tongue,” which stuck until we started freshman year and Diego was forgotten.
“Right,” he says. “Right,” he repeats and jumps to his feet, facing me. I nod. I nod and nod and nod until I’m dizzy enough for my knees to wobble, and bile crawls its way up my throat. I sit down again and look up at him through hands half covering my face.
“Oh my fucking God. My best friend is a girl? Jesus, Jesus, Jesús cristo.” The falsetto is jammed in his throat now. He looks cute again, with confusion written all over his face in huge letters. “Caught me off guard there, Mick,” he says, shaking as he sits down next to me, so close our shoulders touch. Is he shaking from mental overdrive? Or just brimming with anger? Can even soft souls such as Diego’s turn to violence and murder if caught completely off guard, like he is now?
“And you don’t have the hots for me?” What if I do? What will he say or do then?
“I don’t like you like you, Diego,” I say, the truth being simple enough.
“Why not?” he says huskily, leaning away from me while studying my face. Damn, his eyes seem to be melting too. They’re dams about to spill over. Diego only cries when someone close has died or when he’s been betrayed, and that last happened first thing sophomore year, with his namesake and supposed buddy, Diego Olsson, taking his dream place on the varsity basketball team through stamping on Diego’s leg with all the evil intent in the world and breaking it.
Like I’m breaking something right now.
“I’m not contagious,” I whisper when he leans even farther away from me.
“This is bad. Seriously bad.” His voice is back to a more shaky normal, but the water in his eyes still threatens to explode out of his sockets.
“I’m still me.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m the same,” I insist.
Diego shakes his head. “Jesus, Mick.” And then he scoots close enough to hug me. “Diana’s gonna die when she finds out,” he says as his eyes spill over. “And stupid people will freak out. Oh man,” he says, his voice a low sob. “The narrow-minded douchebag assholes will have a field day. I can’t protect you from all of them. You gotta hire someone to bodyguard you when I’m not around.”
“What—”
“Hell, I’m freaking out here. Sooo bad. Don’t worry. I’ll come around.” He lets go of me, waving his arms about as if he’s chasing off a swarm of bees. “Just let me process. You know I’m kind of a slow learner. Oh God—”
“So you’re okay with this?”
“No!” he shouts. “I mean, kind of. I don’t know. Probably,” he says lower. “You… I… I’m…. Stop staring at me!” He leans against the door behind us.
“You’re crying, so I guess you believe me.”
“I can’t stop my head from spinning. This is insane. I mean, I’ve heard about this stuff, but I never thought… you know…. You’re not exactly girly or anything. Sure you’re not gay? Or mad as a hatter?”
“I’m sure.”
Diego’s phone buzzes.
“Diana?” I ask.
“Who else?” he replies. Psychic bond, all right.
“What’s she saying?”
“Asks what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m doing. I half feel like beating you up for hiding this from me. From us. From everyone. Maybe everyone will want to beat you up, and that’s not right either. Not like you’ve done anything wrong. You’re like the bravest person on earth, aren’t you?”
My phone buzzes next. Diana, sending me a selfie with paint circles on her cheeks.
Four weeks to go! she texts. Now allowed ten minutes on phone every day. Yay!
“You think Di will freak?” She’s always unpredictable, which I like about her. Just not right now.
“She’ll probably want to spray can you to death for telling me first, but you know her. She’d sell her kidney to help. She’d steal mine too, if I refused to give it up. You better talk to her pronto, Canelo. Hey, Canela now, I guess. Jeez, this is weirder than weird.”
“Can you say my name, if I tell you what it is?”
“No.” He holds up a hand. “Maybe some other day. Baby steps.”
Someone tries to open the door and pushes Diego toward me.
“What’s going on?” Ash says, stepping onto the porch. She takes one look at me, one look at Diego, and beams. “Heh-hey. The ball is rolling?”
I nod.
“And you’re still here, Diego-Phobia? Not bad.” She pats his shoulder.
“Of course I’m still here. I’m not as narrow-minded as you think.”
“You look like hunted prey. Want me to kiss it away?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, looking like he believes every word.
“Dream on,” Ash says.
“Damn,” he replies.
Ash immediately goes up to him and puts her hands around his neck, draws him down to her mouth, and gives him a loud smack of her lips on his.
“More of those where that came from, if you stay loyal,” she says, giving him a wink before sprinting up the stairs.
“I’m in!” he hollers after her, a look of joy, disbelief, and disgusting horny confusion plastered all over his face.
“That’s all it takes to not make you run off and never speak to me again?” I say, the surreal scene not quite convincing me things could be that easy. “Kissing bribes from my sister?”
“Yep,” he confirms. “I stand by you, no problem. Thank your sis all the way. When is she leaving again?”
“I’m going to break down and cry now,” I say.
“Want me to stay?”
“No.”
“See you later, then,” he says and takes off, leaving the door wide open.
I don’t cry. I laugh as if there’s no tomorrow.
Chapter 33
I KNEW Diego couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. Di probably dragged the news out of him quite effortlessly, and maybe not at all, the first time they spoke or texted or whatever after Diego left my house. I’m not the least surprised when I find a message from her, saying Confirm that Diego is pulling my leg. ASAP.
For once I have no immediate response. No quick retort, no confirmation that she’s been had, or me stringing her along a bit longer and having fun with it. Those are old days now, so after a few hours of mulling, I just write, Everything he told you is true.
When she doesn’t reply, I assume she’s cut off from the world as per usual this summer. I go for a run with Ma to avoid thinking about Di’s reaction, and despite running on needles, I don’t vomit into the bushes or go faint with dizziness this time. I even manage to have a half-intelligible exchange with Ma as we run.
“You did say you wanted to be a girl once, when you were four or five. You threw a tantrum because Ash got a new dress and you didn’t get one too. That’s the only time, I think,” she says. “I thought a lot about it. Nothing else stands out.”
“I don’t remember thinking about it,” I say. “Not until I was maybe twelve or so.”
“But how could we miss it if you were so unhappy?”
“I’m not unhappy, Ma. I’m just not entirely happy. It’s hard to explain.”
“I think maybe this explains why you’ve been so set on following the rules. It’s a way of not drawing attention to yourself.”
“I honestly think the rule thing only has to do with wanting to be a cop, Ma. I liked following the rules long before I realized I’m a girl.”
“That’s true. I’m glad you are who you are no matter what. We’ll talk through this in more detail. Soon, I promise. Make a plan. Are you worried about telling people?”
“I already told Gabriel. And Diego. Who told Diana.”
“And?”
“Gabriel lied to you about being sick. Diego accepted my story. Don’t know about Di. No word so far.”
“Honey, this will be difficult for you. More difficult than it is right now.”
“But okay in the end, right?”
“Yes. But please, you need to tell us when you’re down. You need supporters. Your old friends might not be among them. I’ve been surprised and let down enough times to know this.”
“You don’t think Di will step up?”
“She’s just a bit… egoistic, is all.”
“She stands up for herself, Ma. Nothing wrong in that. She’s a good friend.”
My belief that Diana will support me disintegrates when she finally does reply. I never expected her to crush me with one cruel word, impersonalized by way of a text message and hitting me so deeply I’m sick to the bone from reading it:
Traitor.
I collapse on my bed, and as I scramble to not hyperventilate, she sends off more crushing words unleashed in anger and maybe even some sadness.
A girl? Really? You? Loco.
I don’t fucking believe it.
Your dick must be really small.
You’re clearly psycho.
Reading those messages once is enough. Delete, delete, delete, but my memory proves more reluctant when it comes to erasing awful stuff. The words are stapled to my memory lobes. They gut me and rip me wide open.
The howl on the inside uses a sledgehammer to try to burst free from my twisted body. I hold it down, but it builds and builds, an agony that spreads up my feet, through my belly, it conquers my lungs and crawls up my neck to gain supreme control of my mind too.
Diego involves himself in the imminent breakdown, sending me a message, warning me that she sounded pissed and saying Di forced the info out of him. Pissed? Forced?
I almost laugh, because there’s never any force involved between the two of them. They can argue, beat each other, say nasty things, and have widely different opinions, but they are forever a unit.
I want to confront her. I want to hear her say it.
She doesn’t answer when I call her. Coward.
When Diana drives home the toreador’s final spear with another text, a searing pain spreads through me like the burning tentacles of the jellyfish that stung me so badly when I was ten that I ended up in the ER:
I’ll never speak to you again, bitch.
Bitch. So she believes me. But my best friend, who always said she wasn’t my best friend because I was a guy, has proved herself to be the worst friend ever. Briefly imagining this outcome is one thing, but having to face it in real life is a terribly different one.
Her messages appear on repeat in my head like primitive sound torture. All night I howl, cry, and sob. No one hears me, because Dad is on duty and Ma is out planning a training regime with her marathon buddies. Ash, unusual for a weekend, has volunteered to step in for a sick colleague at the nursing home. I’m on my own.
If this is what it feels like to stay true to oneself, I hate it.
If I wasn’t such a girl, I’d smash the house. If I wasn’t such a goody-two-shoes, I’d go out on the street and find something to shoot up my veins with and forget this disaster.
As if I’d ever do something that stupid.
So I roar, and I wail, and I pray the neighbors don’t hear and hope that if I let every bit of anguish out now, maybe I’ll cope in the morning. And the day after.
Maybe.
Always.
Chapter 34
DIEGO COMES to my door and gives me a hug, obviously disappointed by his twin’s unforgiving stance. I feel so bad when I find myself yearning for it being Diana embracing me like that instead of her awesome brother that I excuse myself and rush up to the bathroom.
In front of the mirror, I smack myself in the face to keep the tears at bay, and I tell myself to suck it up. She’s no longer my best friend, let alone my friend. I might as well accept it and move on. Cry another day, at least. I approach myself as if following a self-help manual of some sort. Very weird. I’m not convinced I believe in any of it.
Focus, focus, focus.
I have one friend standing up for me, going the opposite direction of his sister. That’s rarely happened before. Diego, I realize, is the real deal.
“Why are you the one who’s so accepting? Why can’t your sister be?” I say when I come downstairs and find him slouching on the sofa. I ask because I’m curious about his unflinching loyalty to me, not because I still cry for her attention. Honestly.
“She’ll come around. Eventually. Maybe.” He scratches his chin, searches for any signs of hair growing. He waits eagerly for the day he can shave. He’s got it into his head that girls yearn for a bit of stubble, but I don’t know if I can tell him that I think he’s right.
“You sure?”
“I hope so. Would suck for things to stay this awkward between you. I’m giving her hell for it, don’t worry. She’s not told anyone, far as I know.”
“I don’t care.”
“Of course you care.”
“Yeah….”
“Yeah.”
“So things aren’t awkward between you and me?”
“Uhm….”
“Just say it.”
“I don’t know where to look half the time. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but I don’t wanna lie now when I’ve always been up front with you before.”
“Much appreciated, actually. What will you do when I start hormones and everything changes?”
“Probably freak a little. I’ll also give the curious onlookers the stink eye. I’ll have your back at school, no problem. But yeah, it’ll be awkward. I sort of pictured you and me as best buds. Doesn’t work the same way if you’re a girl.”
“Nothing if about it. I am a girl.”
“What if you… like… are into me? You know….”
“Diego, trust me. I’m not into you. I’ll never be into you.”
“Why aren’t any girls into me, though? With you being a girl, you should be able to tell me. What’s so damn off-putting about me?”
“Carmen was into you.”
“Yeah, I guess. But I got the feeling she latched on to me purely because I was the only guy around for miles. She went to an all-girls school too. She was probably just another desperada and grabbed the first male in sight.”
“Lucky you, anyway. You had three girls chasing you, right?”
“Yeah, lucky me.” He has that sad puppy look on his face, and I admit it’s a bit adorable.
“Come on, don’t beat yourself up about it,” I say, hopefully sounding encouraging. “Second base, right? That’s way farther than plenty guys we know have gone.”
“But now I won’t ever discuss this shit with you again. I can’t do that with you being a girl. I have to be careful now, with the words I use. No more pussy jokes. No more toto or mama pinga.”
“You never used those words before either, moron.”
“Only the once.”
“And then your mama washed out your mouth with soap. Diego, buddy. We can talk about the same things as before. I’m just changing my name, my body, some of my clothes… well, maybe all of my clothes.”
“You don’t think it’ll get weird?”
“Oh, it’ll get weird okay. But I think we’ll sort it out.”
He smiles at me, nods. Chuckles and shakes his head.
“Wanna hear something crazy?” he asks.
“More crazy stuff? Bring it on!”
“I imagined you and me going to the academy together,” he says, very fast. “And, you know, having this 21 Jump Street movie thing going on. We would be excellent cops, obviously. Not morons, like.”
“You want to be a cop?” This is rather surprising news. His mother has basically been grooming him and one of his brothers to take over the family florist shop. She wants to expand and open a second one. She probably thought the future of the Diaz flower dynasty secured when a daughter popped out. Di never wanted to have anything to do with the flowers, and I guess Mrs. Diaz realized a long time ago that keeping the very reluctant Di away from the store meant a better deal for all parties involved, including the flowers. With Diego out of the picture too, her options are dwindling.
“Yeah. I think so. Officer Diego Diaz. Has a nice ring to it, right?” He grins and repeats his future title with a commanding voice.
“Cool.”
“Cooler than florist, absolutely.”
“I think we’ll be fine,” I say. “Diaz and Mullins reporting for duty. I’ll do the driving. You’re too easily distracted.”
