“Yeah, well. It’s just not going to work out. We’re too different.”
“How so?”
I can’t reveal the reason we ended it without revealing the secrets I’ve been hiding from everyone for years. I can’t.
“It’s just personal. Let’s talk about something else.”
Sofia hesitates but quickly shrugs. “Okay, how about this? I have an idea. It just occurred to me.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I say halfheartedly, still thinking about Valentina.
Should I have even said anything? It’s not as if we were dating or anyone knew it was something official. I shouldn’t have even said we broke up. I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. The one I usually get when I regret saying something and so badly wish I would have said something else, but it’s too late. Maybe I just don’t want to think of it as a breakup.
“We should recreate the most iconic scene in our favorite movie.”
“Do you mean the—”
“You know I do!” She screams and laughs, standing up on the bed and jumping up and down.
I stand up and join her, and suddenly we’re twelve again, having a sleepover and eating junk food without a care in the world. No responsibilities. No restaurant to save. No rings to cry about. Just two kids.
“Okay, you wait here. I’m going to go get them.” Sofia runs off the bed, slips slightly when she lands and rushes out the door.
I plop down on the bed, the springs bouncing back with me. I can hear small birds chirping outside, embracing the new morning. I slide off the bed and walk around, looking to see if Valentina left any sign of her behind—even just a crumpled-up receipt. I walk toward her nightstand and open the drawers. Empty. I stroll towards the closet, but only my clothes are left, looking lonely. My eyes were so swollen last night to not have noticed that she had taken everything with her. I remember just crawling into bed and crying myself to sleep.
I walk over to the dresser. I don’t think she ever emptied her luggage to even fill these with anything. I open each one, only to find my own clothes inside. Sitting on top of the dresser is my father’s journal. I reach for the journal, feeling a fresh wave of sadness wash over me. The letter he wrote for me still echoes in my head. I close my eyes and whisper again, barely audible, “What if I’m not strong enough?”
* * *
I grab the journal and sit back down on the bed. With or without Valentina, I still need to figure out what my father is trying to tell me. I need to find another clue. Something to distract me from the pain I feel inside. I begin flipping the pages slowly, passing ones with clues I’ve already discovered with Val. I reach a page I haven’t seen yet with a photograph from the quinceañera. Sofia is dancing with Rosita, I’m dancing with my father, and Valentina is dancing with hers as well. There’s a handwritten note taped to the page in my father’s handwriting.
“Para mi florecita, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it, but please know I wanted to.”
His little flower? Who could that be? He’s never called me that, so it can’t be me. It’s definitely not Valentina. So it has to be either Rosita or Sofia. Since he wasn’t secretly in love with Maritza, that I know of at this point, it’s got to be Rosita. Was Rosita his secret lover?
“I’m back! I had to run to the snack closet to grab the essentials.”
Sofia runs inside, kicks off her slippers, and jumps on the bed.
I quickly slam the book closed and stuff it into my bag. My thoughts swirl with questions, but I hold back from asking Sofia about what Silvana said earlier—that Rosita isn’t really our aunt. I’m not ready for that conversation, especially not here. There’s too much I still don’t understand, and I need to piece things together first.
“What did you get?” I jump on the bed next to her.
“Only the best snack in existence, duh.”
Laid out in front of us are several packets of creamy peanut butter and a few packages of Oreos.
“Oh my God, we’re really doing this?” I shout gleefully, unable to contain my excitement.
“We can’t have a summer camp experience without it. I never actually got to do it with anyone else when I would come to camp, but now we get to do it together.”
I’ve always loved the classic chocolate cookie with its creamy white filling, but tonight I’m feeling a bit adventurous—and nostalgic. I rip open one of the peanut butter packets and take a deep breath, the aroma of the rich, nutty, and creamy spread filling my nose. Gently pulling an Oreo out of the package, I squeeze the packet of peanut butter and carefully spread it on top of the cookie.
I take a bite, then another, each one more delicious than the last. The creamy peanut butter adds a layer of richness and depth to the classic Oreo cookie. It’s a flavor combination that is both indulgent and satisfying.
Sofia sighs. “It’s truly the perfect combination of flavors, right?”
I nod slowly, close my eyes, and savor every last bite, feeling utterly content and happy. Even though I know it’s only temporary.
