Page 44 of That Last Summer

Wow. Is he gay? I didn’t see that coming.

Priscila turns the car stereo on—to temper the atmosphere, I guess. It’s already hot as hell. She goes straight to the CD player and pushes the play button. It might sound silly, but watching her doing that without hesitation, knowing where she has to press to put the CD on, pisses me off. It’s way too familiar. It takes me back in time.

As soon as she leans back and she’s comfortable in her seat, I bring my hand closer to the stereo and lower the volume until it’s unnoticeable. She looks at me in surprise.

I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “I can’t drive with music.”

“Since when?”

“Since two years ago,” I lie, very confidently.

She accepts that with a sigh, turns the music off completely, and looks out her window. Fuck, but she always falls for everything she’s told. And I think I’m more pissed now, because she turned it off, than I was when she put it on.

Five more minutes, and we reach her house. Finally. The friend (what the hell is his name?) helps Adrián out of the car and the two of them wait for Priscila on the sidewalk.

“Thank you,” she says before she gets out. “For the other day.” She’s talking about the jellyfish thing.

“I was just doing my job.”

Really, I’m sick of having to tell everyone the same thing.

“I know. But... if you hadn’t shown up so fast, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Likely, you’d have drowned.”

I notice her swallowing hard. I can see my comment has affected her; I know that maybe I’ve been too harsh. But it’s true. She could have drowned. And what would I do if you weren’t here? I’m about to say out loud. My feelings for you have kept me sane all this time. They’ve given me strength. I’ve been surviving for years with just one goal: to hate you. You can’t take that away from me, too. I’d never forgive you. I’d go to hell to take you back.

“Yes, quite likely. Anyway, goodbye Alex. And thank you for bringing us home, too.”

She opens the door and gets out of the car, but before she closes it again I say, “I didn’t do it for you.”

I need to make that clear.

“I know,” she answers just before pushing the door closed.

I turn onto the road to go home, finally, but since my window is down I hear them talking as they enter theirs.

“Where’s Alex going?” Priscila asks.

“What do I know, Pris? Heading home, I guess,” Adrián says between hiccups.

“Doesn’t he live across the street, with his parents?”

“No.”

“Oh. I always see him there these days. I thought...”

“He lives in your house.”

Ourhouse? Hell, no. My house.