Page 2 of Through You
I’m not only talking about love. It’s also difficult for me to make friends. I have no time for friendships. I work for the Hidalgos during the day. During my breaks, I look after my mother. And in the evenings I attend university. My day starts at four in the morning and ends close to midnight. I hardly have time to sleep. At the age of twenty, I should have many friends, yet I only have one, and that’s simply because we’re in the same classes. Of course, I also consider the boys my friends. Well, Ares and Apolo. With Artemis, it’s a different story.
The truth is, growing up, Artemis and I were very close. Then everything changed five years ago, that Fourth of July night, when I rejected him after he kissed me. From that moment on, our relationship ceased to be easy and comfortable, and turned tense and distant. Now he’ll only speak to me when necessary.
Although they never asked questions, Ares and Apolo noticed the change. I appreciate their discretion. It helped me avoid the discomfort of having to explain what happened between their brother and me.
It was easy for Artemis to avoid me. At the end of that summer he started university and left home to live on campus, where he remained for the five years of his program. A month ago he graduated. And now he’s coming home. Today.
Life can be full of irony when it wants to be. Out of all the days, he had to come back today, on the exact date of that night, five years ago. I must admit that I’m nervous. The last time I saw him was six months ago. It was a brief encounter—he came by the house to pick up a few things, and didn’t even say hello.
To be completely honest, I hope we can manage to be civilized. Five years have gone by. I doubt he evens remembers what happened that night. I don’t expect us to be as close as we once were, but I hope we can at least be friendly.
“Is the food ready?” Martha, my mother, asks while zipping up the black dress I need to wear for the surprise party the Hidalgos planned for Artemis.
“Claudia, are you listening to me?”
I turn and smile at her.
“Everything is in order, Mother. Don’t worry, and go to sleep.
Okay?” I help her lie down then pull up her blanket and kiss her forehead. “I’ll come back soon.”
“Don’t get in trouble. You know it’s always best to keep one’s mouth shut and avoid . . .”
“Being honest?” I finish her sentence. “I understand.”
She caresses my cheek. “You never know, some of the people coming to this party may be rude.”
“I’ll stay out of trouble, Mom. I’m a grown-up.”
I kiss her forehead one more time and walk away. I stand in front of the mirror to make sure I look okay. The Hidalgo matriarch, Sofia, has ordered me to wear this sleek black dress to match the attire of the rest of the staff. She wants the servers looking after her guests to be elegantly dressed, and I can’t be the exception. I check that the bun I’ve made with my red hair is perfectly in place. I’ll be in charge of the distribution of the food so can’t have my hair down. I turn off the light and walk out of our room, moving quickly, and my black heels make clicking sounds, announcing my every step. And though I rarely wear high heels, I’m very good at walking in them.
When I reach the kitchen, I find four people waiting: two men wearing waiter uniforms and two women in the same dress I have on. I know them very well. They all work for the catering company that Mrs. Hidalgo frequently hires for these occasions.
She prefers to hire the same staff each time because they’re familiar with how parties are hosted at the house. One of the women is the one friend I have from university, Gin. I helped her get this job.
“And how is everything?”
“Everything’s going well,” she replies. She points to the other young woman. “Anellie has prepared a few cocktails and stocked the minibar with champagne and wine.”
“Great. And who will be in charge of preparing drinks?” I ask while fixing a tray with hors d’oeuvres. “Is it Jon?”
Jon nods. “Yes, of course. I am, after all, the best bartender in the world.” He winks at me.
Gin rolls her eyes. “Um, excuse me? I make the best margaritas in the world, okay?”
Miguel, who has been quiet all this time, finally comments.
“I concur.”
Jon flips them off.
I check my watch. The guests are about to arrive. “It’s showtime.”
They all exit, except Gin, who stays behind, hoping to walk out with me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
I give her a shrug.
