Page 54 of My Desire (Mi Deseo)

“I have a key to every room,Diabla,” he shrugs. “I just don’t use yours until it’s time to carry you to bed.”

“You–I mean, you’ve been listening to me?” I know he has, I’m not stupid, but I can’t seem to askwhyhe does it. He moves to stand beside me, his elbows coming to a rest on the banister, his eyes on the dark balcony across from us.

“Your tears remind me of my own.”

I feel almost shocked hearing this, my mind not able to picture the powerful Romero Herrera crying like I do. Not even as a child, which is ridiculous.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at me, his eyes faraway with his memories before coming back to the present.

“I mean when Alvaro broke my heart too.”

SEVENTEEN

ROMERO

“Ghost” by Marissa

I watch Alvaro’s dark apartment, my mind traveling back to when times between us were far more gray than black and white. A time when we lived in the shadows, reveling in our time together. The memories should be faded, but they’re as vivid now as they were then.

“He was my first too,” I tell Vicenta, my stomach in knots with anxiety. Will she reject me as my father had…as Alvaro’s father had?

“Then he left me, too.”

I watch her face, wishing she were more open with her thoughts, but she’s as closed off as Alvaro always was. She shows no pity, no anger, no jealousy…she only watches me. Does she think I’m lying, making fairy tales to connect to her? Shit, I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

“What happened?” she finally asks, her voice soft and comforting.

How to explain? How can you even begin to describe what it’s like to open yourself up to someone you loved and find nothing but rejection in the end? Unrequited love is a real soul killer, but when you find yourself explaining the pain of it to someone not only as closed off as Vicenta, but also as new to love as she is…well, you feel as pathetic as you can get. At least, I do.

But then, as I realize that she’s not exactly fresh to the topic. I shrug and let the words pour. The words I’ve held inside me for five brutal years.

“Alvaro was my best friend growing up, something I’m sure he’d never admit to.” I laugh bitterly, the bridge of my nose twitching in anger as I look across the bay. “He was with me through everything. The loss of my mom when she died of cancer. He stood by my side when we buried her, offering me the comfort only a best friend could offer.”

I shake my head, turning my back on the north side and folding my arms across my chest. Vicenta steps in front of me, her hands lifting up to comfort me but she stops herself, mimicking my pose and leaning against the wall.

“His mom, Natalia, was like a second mom to me.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “No, she was more like my crazytía. She was the first one to ever get me drunk.”

Vicenta smiles, her eyes glossy as she listens to me.

“Anyway, at the time, the Banderas and the Herreras were very close. This was because of the marriage between the families. Marío and Natalia. She was a very intuitive and observant woman, loving in so many ways that I believe it was her downfall.”

I rub my eyes as I think of her. She is in every one of my fondest memories for as far back as I can remember. There was no one like her—well, except for my mom.

“She would watch me and Alvaro when we were together as children, babysitting the two wild boys of the family with nothing but happiness. I remember one time as a teen, when I was discovering girls, she pulled me to the side and asked me simply,‘Are you following traditions or are you following your heart?’I didn’t know how to answer at the time. I barely understood math, let alone matters of the heart, but the question nagged at me as I grew. It wasn’t until I began to question my taste in partners that I understood what she was asking.”

“What do you mean bytaste in partners?” Vicenta asks, stepping closer to me and trying to catch my gaze. I keep my eyes averted, unwilling to see the horror in her face.

I turn back to her lover’s balcony, my fists clenching around the banister. “I liked women—I still do—but the friendship I shared with Alvaro began to warp in my mind. I started seeing him as more than just someone I called my friend. I didn’t know how he felt toward me, but I thought there was something there in his lingering gazes. Especially when he saw me with women.”

I close my mouth, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. I turn—my body feels as restless as my mind—and lock on Vicenta’s gaze over my shoulder and in her eyes I finally see a spark of emotion. One that pleads with me to continue and begs me tell her my story, to share my burden with her.

My mind begs me to reconsider this situation, to stop and weigh the pros and cons of telling this girl—who already has the power to ruin me—my only weakness.

“Fuck it,” I say mostly to myself. “My father cheated on my mom many times throughout their marriage, but I didn’t know about it until he got an escort pregnant. She was underage at the time and gave birth to my half sister, Katalina. She died birthing her. I stood by my dad, believing him when he said he was drunk and seduced. Little did I know he had done this more than once. When I found out, it was Alvaro I turned to with my troubled mind. I kissed him in my moment of weakness and he—”

I slam my lips shut, gazing into her eyes and praying to God that she’ll still look at me the same. My father’s heavy hands replay in my mind, his repulsed and disgusted eyes glaring at me.

---