“There was a time I tried dating guys, just to make it easier for her. A desperate attempt to hold on to whatever version of me she could stand.”
Valeria reaches across the table and gently squeezes Camila’s hand as she continues.
“Her best friend had a son, and she somehow convinced me to go on a date with him. She said one date would make me forget all about my interest in girls. She said it as if it were simple, and I wanted to believe her, to be the daughter she wanted, so I did. I dated Sebastian for a few months in high school, and I had never seen my mom so happy. Sebastian was a senior, and I was a sophomore. I went to prom on his arm, spent entire weekends at his house, wore his ridiculous letterman jacket everywhere until I smelled more of his cologne than my laundry detergent. I tried. I really did, but everything about him made my skin crawl.” Camila shakes her head like she’s trying to dislodge the memory.
“My mom thought I’d been cured, but I was miserable. So when I couldn’t take it anymore, I broke up with him. The moment I told her I’d ended things, it felt like the final nail in the coffin for us. She was so disappointed when I admitted I couldn’t make it work. When I told her I didn’t love Sebastian, that I didn’t even like him ... the way she looked at me broke me. It still does if I think about that moment for too long.”
Valeria’s mouth tightens, lips pressed thin as she imagines Camila’s pain. “What happened after?”
“I realized my heart wasn’t something I could will into place, so I started to lie about who I was seeing. Then I met a girl, Becca, and we started dating. I didn’t want to keep lying to my mom or keep her a secret, so I made the mistake of thinking she would understand. I thought that once she saw how happy Becca made me, there was no way she wouldn’t accept it. So I told her—told her I wanted her to meet her. Instead, she forced me to break up with Becca over the phone, and that summer, she sent me to a Christian camp to ‘expel my demons.’ Little did she know that camp would only solidify the fact that girls were it for me. When I got back, I stopped trying to talk to her about it. I was never going to be the person she wanted me to be, and she was never going to accept me, so why try?”
“That sounds incredibly hard. I wish I had better words,” Valeria says as she moves her hand to Camila’s arm.
Camila shrugs. “I’m used to it. I’ve done a shit ton of therapy to work through it. Thankfully, my mom lives by the philosophy that ‘If I don’t address it, it isn’t real.’ Which allows her to ignore the parts of me she doesn’t understand.”
“That must be painful.”
Camila nods. “It used to be. When I still cared about what she thought of me, but I stopped trying to be someone she could tolerate a long time ago. Now I try to make sure I’m okay with who I am, and everyone else can fuck off.”
“Period.” Valeria snaps her fingers. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty wonderful.”
Camila smiles. “It’s worth tons, thank you.”
“Is your dad okay with you being gay?”
“Yeah, he doesn’t care. He’s happy I’m happy.”
“Are your parents still together?”
“They are, but my sexuality isn’t something they talk about. Not that my dad would ever stand up to my mom.”
Coming out was the single most terrifying moment in Valeria’s life. She can’t imagine dealing with it without her mom’s support, as Camila did.
Valeria gives her a tight-lipped smile and lets it sit. Valeria wants to say something—tell her she’s got her and the girls now—but, before she can, Maria Jose sets their plates and drinks in front of them.
“Two Reina Pepiada Arepas and a Guarapo for you both. Anything else I can get you?” she asks.
“No, thank you. This looks delicious!” Camila beams, not taking her eyes off her arepa.
“Enjoy,” Maria Jose says as she walks back toward the food truck.
Valeria wants to pick up where the conversation left off, but Camila looks entirely too excited about her meal.
Camila picks up her arepa and carefully studies it. “Okay, wait ... what is this? I know it’s an arepa, but what’s inside? It smells incredible.”
“It’s called a Reina Pepiada. It’s an arepa stuffed with chicken, avocado, and a little mayo. I always add lettuce and onions to mine, though.”
“That sounds amazing.” Camila takes a bite—an ambitious one—and her eyes go wide. She makes a muffled moaning sound and covers her mouth with her hand. “This is amazing,” she says, her mouth full.
Valeria grins, taking a bite off her own, and it’s as delicious as always. Fresh and creamy.
Camila reaches for her drink next. “And what’s this again? Guarapo?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s sugarcane juice,” Valeria explains. “Fresh-pressed, super sweet, and delicious.”
Camila takes a sip and immediately grins. “Wow, that’s delicious. It tastes a lot like the sugarcane juice my grandma used to make. In Brazil, we call it Caldo de Cana.” Camila says it in a Portuguese accent, and all Valeria can do for a few seconds is blink and stare almost in a daze, her heart fluttering softly in her chest.
“Wait ... you’re Brazilian?” Valeria asks the moment her brain reboots.
