Page 14 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
VERONICA
“Everybody saw me sick and it felt like no one gave a shit. They criticized the things I did as an idiot kid.” - Lonely by Justin Bieber (ft. Benny Blanco).
E VERY CORNER OF CUBA HAS HISTORY, EACH SPOT TELLING ITS OWN COMPELLING STORY.
The House of Lopez holds echoes of the past, just as Aseré does.
Each location weaves a tapestry of experiences and cultural significance.
Standard notice, it is, for people around our community to be aware of the most popular spots.
For example, the Lopez brothers, who were once the biggest troublemakers in the entirety of Havana—whom Mom talks about endlessly, saying they are pests to our society—, had opened a tavern over twenty years ago, where people would go mingle in between clouds of cigarette smoke and booming music coming from small artists, unnoticed by the outside world.
The reason why Zeke frequented the place.
I hoped, late at night, that he would get that record deal that he desperately had craved for, but time will tell and mend all the wounds that come with the feeling of failure.
As the designated best friend, I should have been the one to plan out Alessia’s twenty-ninth birthday party, but hosting parties fit me as well as the expectations from my mom.
Just a hint— they don’t fit me at all.
Zeke took it upon himself to plan a Cuban night event in its best exposition and form.
As I approach the tavern, I can't help but admire its quaint charm.
The low ceiling is adorned with an eclectic display of flags from around the world, fluttering gently in the dim light.
The floors are a striking pattern of squared black and white tiles, giving the space a classic feel, while the warm, weathered wooden walls exude a sense of history and comfort.
To my surprise, I find Alessia already seated in this inviting atmosphere.
In accordance with our carefully crafted plan, Zeke and I were tasked with staying behind to meticulously arrange the final touches of the birthday party.
We had everything mapped out—from decorating the vibrant balloons to setting the table with colorful plates and shimmering cutlery.
We prepared for the moment when she would be picked up a few hours later by Adam and Olivia, ready to surprise her with all our efforts.
However, they are both seated by the counter at the center, sipping from bottles of beer as they look at the scenery that is displayed in front of us.
“I could fucking choke you right now, Zeke!” Alessia screeches, pushing her long blonde hair off her shoulders to show the yellow strapless top she had matched with a maxi skirt in the same color.
“What? I am not the one who got it wrong!” Zeke defends himself. The curls in his hair bounce when he tries to get close to her, only to be pushed away by the extension of her palms.
“I said I’d choke you.”
“And you want me to say I’d like it, don’t you? I told Adam perfectly well that he’d pick you up at nine, not at seven. I’m sorry that the decorations are not up, but if you leave right now, then—”
“You’re kicking me out of my birthday party?!” Alessia screeches, dramatics heightened as the blush on her cheeks spread.
Now, this might not be rocket science or quantum physics, but I have always had the notion that Alessia and Zeke had some rendezvous that had not gone unnoticed by me, but unspoken about.
They were pleasant to each other when they met; Alessia chuckling at his trials and errors of trying to get the exact words to talk to her in English, for he did not practice it much.
However, something changed along the way; a twist in the axis of what they once were, irritated by the mere existence of the other, and yet, incredibly worried for people who say that ‘ they don’t like each other the slightest ’.
“Alessia, baby, come here,” I tell her as I extend my arms and wrap her in an embrace. Alessia, although older and taller than me, shrinks to my height and presses her cheek to my chest. “What are you fighting about?”
“Zeke and Adam got the time of the party mixed up and now, the surprise is ruined.”
Dramatic as ever, and possibly influenced by the swirling emotions of her special day, I steal a glance at Zeke.
His gaze is captivated, lingering on her with an intensity that betrays the depth of his feelings.
I know for a fact that Zeke and Alessia fit each other; two people who are tremendously bright and witty, even through all the hell they have lived.
Nevertheless, they find themselves in a state of unease during their match—a delicate balance between choosing not to spark any fervor and refusing to allow the flame to extinguish completely.
“If you truly didn’t know about the surprise, you wouldn’t have dolled yourself up,” I tell her, planting my hands firmly on her shoulders before looking at Adam. “You had one job.”
“It was my fault.” Olivia, Adam’s wife, admits from her spot.
She’s too gorgeous to stand my brother, truthfully.
Adam enjoys causing chaos around him, but he values his marriage.
It’s no wonder she looks so happy next to him, rich brown hands interlocked with his, dreads falling in long trails down her back, her small face, pierced nose and long eyes wrinkling at the weight of her smile.
“The spirits told me that secrets were bad luck this month, so I couldn’t keep my mouth closed. ”
Olivia has as much trust in her tarot cards as she does in her husband. I, sometimes, want to have that so-called ‘third eye’ that she prides on.
“Can't blame me for listening to my wife, right?” Adam bats his eyelashes with ease before taking a long sip of his beer bottle.
Yes, the night that Mom and Dad made Adam, they must have hated each other enormously. Nothing good ever comes from him.
“Happy wife, happy life.” Zeke retreats and this is my cue to roll my eyes, turning to him with one finger up.
“You had a job, too!”
“I did my job!”
“I haven't seen this place decorated yet, and people will arrive soon.” It’s not like I told them that Nathan will come to the birthday party.
None of them truly knows about his existence; I’ve remained silent about him because I understand how Alessia and Zeke are.
Alessia will probably directly hunt for him to tell him my intentions—which are not clear to me yet—, and Zeke.
..I don’t know if he’d get angry at me considering just how supportive he was of what I had with Lorenzo, or if he would just shrug it off.
“Alright, bossy pants. We’re decorating this place.
” Zeke puts the package filled with balloons on top of his shoulder before tossing a look towards Alessia.
His eyes diverted to every piece of her face, from her eyes down to her mouth, before saying: “Put that mouth to good use, and instead of fighting with me, could you help me fill these balloons up?”
A faint blush spreads across her cheeks, the warm hue contrasting with her usual complexion.
It could be the suggestive undertones of the conversation that have ignited this color or perhaps it’s the mounting frustration at the prospect of having to endure Zeke's presence any longer. “It’s my birthday, dumbass. I shouldn’t have to do anything. ”
“ Boo-hoo, ” Zeke trails, puckering out his bottom lip in a pout. “I didn’t ask you to get here early; now, let’s get to work.”
As Alessia celebrates another year in this unpredictable universe, we embrace her spirit by letting her playlist fill The House of Lopez with the vibrant sounds of Taylor Swift.
Zeke, despite his love for Latin American beats, hasn’t complained at all.
They make a great team while working with the balloons.
He got on a chair to hang them on the walls because she had her party heels on and didn’t wish to end up plastered on the floor.
Meanwhile, Alessia was the one blowing them up.
I arranged the snacks Adam had ordered from Aseré on plates, putting a variety of Cuban snacks with a few burgers and cheese sticks here and there for maximum collision of cultures.
The scent is marvelous; spicy and raking caramelized onions, making me salivate through the roof of my palate.
Olivia has been a lifesaver with the cake.
She placed it on a platter elevated by small plastic columns that she had kindly brought along.
Then, she arranged the letters she had cut out to read, "Happy Birthday! "
It was my idea to have a few pictures of Alessia throughout her life hanging from a few sparkling veils falling from the roof behind the snack table.
I gathered enough embarrassing pictures from Facebook, edited them into Polaroid photographs, and added some memories of our own.
Our engineering graduation. The first time we got shitfaced together.
The first time she tried Cuban food back when we were in Texas, and the first time she tried real Cuban food because the other one sucked.
Alessia means more to me than I’d ever admit. She was the only person I had when I arrived at university. We shed tears together, hugged through the pain, and wished for the other to grow.
People enter the pub late. People around here often arrive late to parties, but Alessia has wiped away all signs of stress—as she felt with Zeke—and is now smiling at the groups of people.
Teeth bared, head tossed back, glowing in the same shade that the sugar at the corner of her cocktail has. I can’t say that I’m not happy for her.