Never in my life have I wanted to go upside someone’s head with a taco. But Marcela isn’t worth wasting the marinated pork and fresh pineapple. I’m hungry, and I wouldn’t make it three steps before she tossed me into Lake Erie.
I still thought about it.
There are days when I dislike my sister, and tonight is no exception. Who ruins Taco Tuesday by poking fun at their sibling? Mine, apparently.
Marcela’s face is stuck between signs of a seizure and a hard fart. She’s been like this for the last six minutes and eighteen seconds—I counted in case she needs medical attention. Her head is tipped to the popcorn ceiling, her cornrows, which are woven up into a braided bun, touching the back of the chair as she slides down it.
Pure foolery.
I wave off the server, who’s been hovering around our table in case my sister needs carted off to a place with padded rooms.
“People are staring.” I kick her pantleg under the table. The only part of her that’s visible is her bun.
Her response is a muffled snort. After a few more snickers, she finally comes up for air.
“It’s just—” She snorts again and uses a napkin to blot the thick lashes fanning tears down her cheeks. “Only you would get asked out during a job interview while wearing that blouse.”
My forehead creases. “It’s a professional dinner, and I found this blouse in your closet.” If she plays “When Doves Cry” on her phone one more time, I’m gone.
“Be that as it may, this is your sign to put yourself out there. I get not entertaining distractions during school. Now that you have a handful of degrees, put that mechanics knowledge to use.”
“Mechanics is a branch of physics that—never mind.” I sigh at her smirk. “I should cancel.”
“To what, stay in the house and count the fake lemons in your display bowl?” Marcela raises a brow and wraps her lips around the blue rim of her margarita glass.
“That’s the last time I tell you my business.” I snatch the nearest taco from the platter between us. Everything from barbacoa to tripe is present, next to a side of rice and beans and pico de gallo. The one thing my sister and I agree on is not playing cute when it’s time to eat.
El Teke Taqueria is a small box. The floors are sticky and the heater sputters, but the food is amazing. The best meals come from holes in the wall.
“All I’m saying is it’s okay for you togetthe business.” She winks, grabbing a tortilla chip. “Work dinners aren’t uncommon. If you’re comfortable, shit, go for it.”
A work dinner.
At a boathouse, which happens to have a live jazz band that evening.
“I saw the photo on the company website. He’s attractive. You know he has a good job. If there’s no policy against dating your coworker, give him a test drive.”
“Marcela,” I hiss.
The restaurant is too crowded for anyone to hear us. I still wouldn’t like talking about sex in public, and I definitely don’t likehavingsex in public, though the risk of getting caught has made me curious on occasion.
“Look at that brain, hard at work.” She grins. “Get out your head.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
My sister’s nonchalance is nothing new. Neither of us grew up imagining our wedding day or waiting for a man to gallop up on a horse and rescue us from the single life. She surprised us by getting married to her high school sweetheart, but then she course corrected to stay away from any hint of forever.
Her divorce took two years to finalize. Raheem couldn’t keep a job to pay a bill but found a way to drag out the proceedings like the leech he is. My sister learned a costly lesson, and now she refuses to entertain a man beyond casual sex.
Unlike her, I want a commitment with the right partner. My lack of experience with love is neither evidence of missing self-confidence nor immaturity. Many people roam the earth who lack a basic aptitude for decency and pass around STIs like Tic Tacs.
Coital chaos demons.
I might be awkward at times, and I might get in my own head, but I have boundaries. I won’t waste my time seeking validation through an unnecessary relationship.
While I’m open to love, any man I choose will complement me, not complete me. I’m inexperienced, but I’m whole.
“It’s okay if you don’t think Macaulay is cute,” my sister says.
