Page 18 of A Bookish Story

There was a time, family lore says, he had a college sweetheart but that ended badly. No one talks about it. He’s never been serious about anyone else.

Ryan turns to me, and his dark eyes shimmer in the moonlight. “Hey. I’m really sorry about the breakup. You should have said something before you let me go on and on about my problem.”

“Your problem is bigger. I should have known when my ex left for the Peace Corps that we were breaking up. He didn’t have the cojones to tell me to my face that he wanted out. And he’s always wanted everyone to like him.”

“Well, you don’t have to.”

Eddie finishes to a round of applause, most of it because he’s finally done. He nearly gets hauled off the mike by my cousin Diego, who takes over the sound system as strains of Shakira pipe through the speakers. This is more like it. My cousin Isla and Sofia grab me with an “excuse us!” and drag me with them to the center of the covered patio.

They’ve always promised, when we do these embarrassing shows for the family, that I can be on the side and barely noticeable. In a million years I’d never do this in public except for my family, who is quite forgiving (see Eddie, above). I learned a long time ago how to shake my hips to the music, and we have our routine. We grew up together and spent many an evening learning the moves. Of course, we liked Britney and Christina too, but Shakira’s music sounded like the salsa we’d grown up around. She felt like home in many ways and, for me, it helped that she was blonde. Another blonde Latina. I could kid myself that I fit right in and didn’t necessarily look like my mother. Only later I learned Shakira dyed her hair.

Either way, I always get lost in a Shakira tune, imitating Sofia as she tosses her hair, licks her lips. As the song ends, our families applaud dutifully. We’re not great, but they love us anyway.

Ryan comes up to us. “That was amazing.”

“Thank you!” Isla says, blowing on her manicured fingernails and licking her lips. “We’ve been practicing for years. We call ourselves The Three Primas. Get it? Like prima donna, but we’re actually cousins. Prima means cousin in Spanish.”

“C’mon! Tia needs you.” Sofia hooks an arm through Isla and hauls her away.

“Your family,” Ryan says. “They’re so⁠—”

“I know. They’re loud and annoying, but you have to admit, the food is great and there’s never a dull moment around here. This isn’t the first time Eddie’s pulled off a party with only a few hours. He’s dangerous since he bought that karaoke machine.”

“I was going to say…they’re great. You’re lucky.” A speck of pain crosses Ryan’s gaze.

“Honestly, I know they’re a little much sometimes but they mean well.”

Looking for privacy, I walk toward the shrubs and overgrown trees that shade the brick paved walkway, beckoning him to follow.

“Tell me about your family.”

If there’s one thing my abuelita taught me, besides making sure to wash and soak beans before they’re cooked, it’s to honor all family. She’s never said a bad word about my mother, even if she has plenty of ammunition.

“What do you want to know?” Ryan asks.

“Are you still separated?”

“Divorced.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about this.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and studies the ground.

“Just one question and I won’t say anything more on the subject.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“What did she think of you writing a romance? Is she a fan of the genre?”

Not all women are, I’m keenly aware. In fact, Holly and I once joined an online writing chapter and left when the leaders derided the entire romance genre as being “predictable and plebian.”

The question I’ve asked, which isn’t all that personal, seems to make Ryan particularly uncomfortable.

“No, not a fan, but she knows I wrote this one. What did your ex think about you writing romance?”

I sigh. “He was…not supportive. After a while, he got impatient with me for always complaining I could never get my own work published. The thing is, I had to keep my ghostwriting work confidential so I couldn’t even celebrate any of my successes.”

“That has to be tough, not being able to celebrate your success.”