“These will do.” I look over my shoulder and find Hector tangled in a mess of Christmas lights. They remind me of the exact ones Gramps did up the bookstore with one year after visiting the town tree farm.
I make a mental note to check it out. I’m almost tempted to ask Hector to take me. Nothing like towering trees to make you feel the holiday spirit shoot through you, but I’m sure he’s got better things to do and other people to see. LikeNatalia.
“So, I guess Dean Graft was right. Natalia didreallywant to see you.” I probably shouldn’t be pressing this, but it won’t leave my brain.
He goes from cool cucumber to ripe tomato in two seconds flat. Why do I like making him burn up like that?
“Yeah, she called. Asked to meet. We met.”
“For coffee. In an empty café. Early-early,” I say. “I wouldn’t be caught dead meeting anyone early-early unless I was dating them. I once passed up brunch with a global pop star and her supermodel best friend because they wanted to get in a sunrise spin class before.”
“You don’t have to do that, you know?”
I shrug, pretending I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“You don’t have to try to impress me with who you know. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Okay, I guess I really didn’t have any idea what he was talking about. I’m used to bringing up influential people as bids for social capital with my friends back home. I forget that this town runs on bad radio signals and a thriving indie movie theater.
“Got it.” It’s hard not to be a little offended.
“I like music, but to be honest, keeping up with trends is exhausting.” He hikes up his faded jeans from the back belt loop. “I play Top 40 radio in my car since that’s what the passengers around here like. I grew up listening to mostly Spanish language artists since I’m Spanish and Puerto Rican.”
“Do you speak Spanish?” I ask.
“Hablo suficiente español para tener una conversación.” It comes out choppy, but I still enjoy hearing it. I understand most of the words from various classes and travels. “I’m good with casual, low-key conversation, but heaven help me if my grandmother on my dad’s side starts yelling. That magnificent woman speaks five-thousand words a minute, easy. Seriously, she should be in a record book.”
“Sounds intense.”
“Sometimes, but I love her all the same. Even if I can’t always tell exactly why she’s upset. My siblings made fun of me for not being bilingual all through middle and high school. I don’t have a natural ear for picking up languages, but now I’m better at reading Spanish than either of them. It’s been my mission to outpace them conversationally by the end of college. Just to prove something.”
It strikes me how that sounds like something I would say. How I might motivate myself with the promise of besting others. Not sure it’s healthy, but maybe it’s working for him.
“Growing up in Texas helped a lot. There’s a sizable Spanish-speaking Latine population in my city. I always saw the language as a source of pride and community. My dad was constantly looking for ways to make sure we felt connected to our roots whether it was through music or food or games of dominoes, but we pretty much exclusively spoke English at home. Learning the language is one thing I’m doing for myself, you know?”
“That makes sense.”
“I’m lucky to have grown up where I did. Helped me come into my identity in a positive way.” He pauses. “That facet of my identity, anyway.”
I don’t press any further about his queerness because after the bookstore conversation, it seems like slippery territory.
We return to perusing the utter mess left behind. I’m scared I’m going to turn and find a family of rats feasting on fake pine needles. Instead, I open a box and find a nearly crapped-out projector and a bunch of poorly wound cables.
Now this I can work with. I get a miniscule spark of inspiration. I could do something dazzling with this. Bentley’s brother, Brody, works video-editing wonders. I make a mental note to text him for his rates.
I bring the box with the projector up near the doors and start a KEEP IT pile along with the lights.
“Did Noelle say something about Natalia and me?” Hector asks.
I don’t say anything. I don’t want to get Noelle in any trouble, but my face has been known to betray me.
He sighs. “She obviously said something. Jeez, that girl runs the rumor mill in this town, I swear.”
“So it’s a rumor, then?”
“That we dated? No. We did. We dated.” It’s clear he’s conflicted about this, which I don’t get since she’s a goddess. “She just got back from studying opera in Vienna. We haven’t seen each other since last spring, so we were just catching up.” Thoughjust catching upto me would end in something a bit more satisfying than just okay coffee. “There’s nothing to read into it.”
I don’t know if he’s said this for my benefit or for his own. Is he reassuring me that this push and pull I feel between us is something he’s noticed too? Or is he just letting me know his guard is up with her and I shouldn’t prod for any more answers? Either way, I feel a bit winded by the emotional volleying of it all.
