“Riñen a menudo los amantes, por el gusto de hacer las paces.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“Something Mom says. Google it.” Silence filled the room yet again, before he stood and made his way to the kitchen. “Mom made tres leches. Want a piece?” I nodded and when he came back with two pieces, we finished the movie and watched the next one that came on.
Eventually, I went home. My Mom was still passed the fuck out on the couch. I frowned at her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. She had been like this since my dad left when I was like eleven. The bottle on the table caught the light from the TV. Half empty. Or half full. Depends how you look at it.
I stared at it longer than I meant to. Not seeing the amber glass but the future everyone swore I’d end up in. Especially the damn school counselor who looked at me like I was already a lost cause.
But, once upon a time, my Mom had been the kind to make cake. Like Diego’s mom. The house had smelled like sugar and vanilla instead of sour wine and regret. Then she lost herself in the bottle. I swore I’d never be the guy staring at the bottom of one, looking for answers that weren’t there. Sighing, I pulled a faded afghan over her shoulder before going to my room. Rightbefore I fell asleep, I googled what Diego had said to me before shutting my phone off.
Malibu and I just weren’t happening. That wasn’t how these kinds of stories went.
Chapter Ten
? Holly ?
I lounged in an old-fashioned, high-backed chair facing the dressing rooms. Scrolling through my phone, I waited for Maria to come out in yet another dress. The jingle of a curtain sliding back called my attention, and I looked up to see my bestie looking gloomy and sad in a behemoth of a silver gown.
I raised a single eyebrow. “You look like cotton candy. Boring, sad cotton candy.”
“Holly!”
“What? I love you. But this is even worse than the last one. And don’t try telling me you like it, ’cause you look like you left your Xanax at home.”
She threw her hands up, visibly hiding tears. “I don’t even know why I’m trying!”
“You’re not trying!”
“What’s that mean?” She crossed her arms, now pouting.
“Girl, you walked in here and basically grabbed the ugliest damn dresses off the rack like you had a point to prove. No offense.” I directed that last bit to the sales girl, Arlene, who hovered nearby. She shrugged and smiled.
“That’s easy for you to say! You looked amazing in everything you put on.”
“Well, duh. That’s ’cause I am trying. I’ve known what I wanted my prom dress to look like since I started high school. Sure, it’s changed a bit but the fundamentals are still the same.”I looked over at Arlene who nodded eagerly. Neither of them needed to know that I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about prom. What was the point? I had my fill of dressing up and looking pretty for other people long ago. But I’d be damned if I was going to ruin Maria’s time.
“It’s not that easy.”
Ha, you’re telling me. “Why not?”
Maria huffed, stomping her foot and then gestured to her belly. While it was currently hidden under a mountain of tulle, she was indeed sporting a prominent baby bump. She was now almost six months pregnant. “Come on, Holly. You’ve got a body most girls would kill for. I have a bit of a hiccup in my grand, senior year plan.”
Part of me shrank at the mention of my body, of the insinuation that I would be found desirable. Never fucking again. I forced down the revulsion and stood, tossing my phone on the chair. “Is that what she is?”
“Huh?”
“Is she an inconvenience? A hiccup?”
“Of course not!”
“Then stop treating her like one! Swing that belly! Don’t be shy! I mean, the whole fucking town already knows you’re pregnant. Not like it’s a big secret.”
Maria started chewing on her bottom lip and rubbing small circles on her belly. I glanced over at Arlene who stepped forward and said, “If you will allow me, let’s try this. What was your dream dress? What did it look like?”
Maria glanced at me, then back at Arlene who waited patiently before sighing. “Sweetheart neckline, trumpet silhouette. Lots of sequins.” Arlene smiled before turning to dart off.
“And purple if you’ve got it!” I hollered at her retreating figure. I turned back to Maria, who shook her head at me, and Iwinked at her before ushering her back into the dressing room. “Go ahead and get the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man off so we can give him a proper burial. With fire.”
