Page 37 of Wishing for La Luna
I chuckle. “That they are, even when I’m a mess, but I think you won two over.”
She shrugs. “I think we are all messes at times. I think they understand you and who you are. That’s a testament to your branding.”
“You sound like Maeven.”
“Dude, I want to be Maeven when I grow up.” We both laugh.
The game begins, and we settle in. After a while, her gaze shifts around us. Tito, who is sitting close by, is doing the same.
I lean in. “Forget they’re here.”
She turns her face toward me. “How? They’re taking photos and videos and constantly talking about us like we can’t hear them.”
“Imagine walls around you wherever there’s a person. Once you’re enclosed behind them, they don’t matter. I’m good at blocking the noise, not letting it touch me. I can be in a stadium full of people and be alone.”
She nods, and just then, Judge hits it out of the park, and we stand to watch the ball sail away into the stands. The stadium erupts in cheers.
When we sit back down, Luna places her hand over mine.
“I get why you block the chatter. You need to stay sane, which I don’t know how you do it with everyone always watching you. But who reaches out?”
I frown, and I’m glad I’m wearing shades too, because her question hits too close. Dr. Jacinda asked something similar last week.
“I have friends.”
“I know. But sometimes even our friends don’t fully know what’s going on with us because we just don’t go telling everyone. It takes someone to reach deeper…”
“And ask the right questions,” I finish.
“Exactly.”
“Tito’s my cousin and best friend.” I hook my thumb toward his seat. “Niko and Zao keep an eye on me. El Flaco can sense my SOS moments. My family in DR and PR do a good job of checking in on me, but they’re far away.”
“Which side of your family are you closer to?”
“Both. Neither would have it any other way. My dad used to take me to Guánica, his hometown, when I was a kid and taught me so much about the land.”
“And your mom?”
The flare of pain in my chest is so fast and potent that my throat clogs. “She’s gone. A year and a half ago.”
She releases a wounded sigh, shoulders drooping. “Oh. I don’t think I knew that.”
“It wasn’t public. I didn’t want it to be. I couldn’t deal…”
I trail off because the heavy weight I carried on my chest during those days is back sitting over my heart. I felt like I died too, but everything they told us was a lie because, in my death, there was so much agony. I have to close my eyes and breathe. Because I can do that now. I can feel the air flow through my lungs.When will I be able to talk about her again without my insides caving?
Luna’s hand closes around mine, and in that moment, I need something to hold on to, so I lace my fingers through hers and squeeze.
Someone taps my shoulder. “You’re on the jumbotron.”
I look up at it, and yes, both of us are there with the words 'Kiss Cam.' It’s our signal to go. I turn my face back to her, but I’m frozen.
She takes her other hand and presses it against my cheek, pulling me closer while tilting her head up.
“I’m sorry,” she says as our lips press together. In the background, there’s noise and people. In my chest, there’s pain. But my lips are coated with sweetness. And in my hand, there’s another to keep me anchored.
When we pull back, we are staring at each other, but I can’t see her eyes. So I pull my shades off and reach for hers. With her gaze naked before me, I see all the warmth her hand was infusing into mine. I see the welling of eyes who understand loss. I see the smile of someone who sees me, who is reaching out. The lump in my throat is instant, as is the heat in my chest.
