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“Your friend is torturing me.” Adhira groans from beneath a cascade of dark hair. And for the first time, I notice she’s a lot thinner than she had been at the start of the year.Probably just stress.
“My friend?” I ask, smirking as I drop my duffle by the door and take a seat at the kitchen island.
“I no longer claim her,” she says, her posh British accent blending with the sing-song lilt of the remnants of her Gujarati accent from summers spent in India as she grits out the words.
Letty dips a thick popsicle stick into the pot of wax, winding it around several times to cool the molten liquid. “You asked for this,” she says, showing no remorse as she pushes the fallen strands out of her way, applying a thick layer of wax along Adhira’s neck.
“You’re right. I should really be blaming my mother for plaguing me with her hairy neck.”
“It’s okay, babe. I’ll get Chelsea’s unibrow next,” Letty jokes, ripping the wax off and clamping a hand down on the red spot blooming beneath it to calm the sting as Adhira yelps in pain. “One of these days, I’ll have my unibrow permanently lasered off because waxing this shit every month is ridiculous.”
Our eyes fill with tears from a mixture of pain and laughter over the next thirty minutes as Letty finishes waxing Adhira’s neck.
Adhira pays her back in kind, even requiring Chelsea and I let her wax our lady ‘staches as payback for laughing at her.
By the time we’re done, my cheeks hurt from laughing so much, and that little pang of guilt is encroaching again. I wish Icould tell them about Rafael. I wish I could tell them about my weekend, but I can’t.
Not yet.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
SATURDAY, MAY 24
“Yes,Carlito, she loved it, just like you said she would,” I tell my brother, thankful for the idea to surprise Elise.
“Your good looks are wasted on you, Rafa. If I looked like you, I’d be getting all the ladies,” he jokes.
“We’re practically identical,” I say, groaning. “People assumed we were twins until they learned of our age difference.”
“Yeah, yeah. I guess hot rugby player still outdoes thoughtful nerd though, so I’ll accept that as explanation enough. Now, tell me everything,” he gushes.
Carlos is a romantic at heart. He’s kind of awkward when he first meets someone, but he opens up quickly, willingly exposes every piece of his soul, and lives for thoughtful gestures. He’severything I hope to be for Elise. It’s not in my nature, but for her, I’ll make the effort.
I tell him about the church and how everything went, leaving out the less tasteful details, and by the end of it, he’s giggling like a schoolgirl. “Little Rafa’s inlove,” he sings over the line.
My face heats as the truth of that lights me up and terrifies me all at the same time. Because when you love someone, it’s that much easier to get your heart broken if they leave orworse.And as guilty as it makes me feel, I worry about her struggles with bipolar disorder. I’m willing to learn and take the time necessary to give us both the support we need to navigate that, but I’m afraid I’ll fuck something up or say something harmful or triggering.
But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, because wewillget there.Together.
“Maybe,” I say, and immediately, he calls me out on it.
“No need to lie, baby bro. I can’t wait to meet her! Speaking of, when are you bringing her here? You haven’t come to visit in years, and Mamí won’t stop talking about it.”
My shoulders feel tense, guilt wearing on me. “I don’t know, Carlos,” I say, stalling as I search for a better answer.
“Come on. You’ve got a break coming up in a few weeks. Just come visit for a few days. Bring Elise with you!”
I groan, melting into my couch cushions. Mrs. Purrito hops into my lap, circling around to find a good spot before settling in.
I stroke her soft fur, closing my eyes and waiting for an answer, but for the first time in forever, I don’t have agoodreason not to visit. And it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that without Carlos ever having the slightest intention of doing so, he fills me with an overwhelming guilt I struggle to shake off for weeks after visiting.
Though I guess that if I don’t visit when I actually have the time to, it might make me feel exponentially worse.
“Fine,” I say, letting the word ring in the silence between us.
“F-fine?” he asks, disbelief clear in his voice.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”