Page 70 of That Last Summer

2008

That summer—the summer of the Beijing Olympics—Alex and Priscila spent less time together, but they made up for it over a winter of dates, calls, texting, and surprise visits.

By the summer of 2008, Alex and Priscila were sick to death of having to explain to everyone—even the town fruit seller—that they were just friends. The truth was, they were together, boyfriend and girlfriend, and the whole town—and part of the surrounding area—knew it.

Priscila loved Alex’s company; she didn’t care about the rest. Probably Adrián’s bite me attitude and Alex’s I don’t give a flying fuck approach to life had rubbed off on her a bit. Those two were like two peas in a pod. What a pity they didn’t get along well. Or at all.

Alex wasn’t the type to put labels on things, but that was mostly because he had never had anything important to label. Or maybe because he preferred to glide over the surface without getting involved. So he didn’t refer to Priscila as “his girlfriend,” but he’d surely kick the ass of anyone who dared to flirt with his neighbor from the house across the street. His girl. His Queen of the Desert.

The public recognition Alex had gained—his name was now among the most heard on the sports shows—didn’t help their situation either. The boy refused to involve Priscila in all the press paraphernalia. What they had was theirs, and theirs alone. And he was sure that shouting it to the world wouldn’t bring him any more happiness than he had already.

The first half of June they were forced to make an official presentation at the Cabanas’, but the only thing forcing them was their feelings: for Priscila, a deep desire to share what she had with her parents, with whom she had an incredible and close relationship; and for Alex, simply a need to know everything about her, including the place she called home. And even after all the phone calls from her four siblings throughout the winter, they still wanted to do it. Those phone calls almost put them off. Sometimes Priscila wondered why she kept answering.

River: Bring him home, Mom and Dad want to meet him.

Adrián: I don’t know why, he’s the fucking neighbor from across the street. They know him plenty.

Priscila: Did you tell Mom and Dad? What the heck!

Marcos: Oh, come on, Pris. What did you expect? Our baby girl has a boyfriend, and we have to zip it?

Priscila: He’s not my boyfriend.

River: What? The swimmer doesn’t want to commit? Should I give him a piece of my mind?

Priscila: Don’t mess with my life! I’m warning you.

Marcos: Now that I think about it, you didn’t look far from home, Pris.

Hugo: I saw this coming.

River: You see everything coming.

Hugo: They made out in the swimming pool years ago, I saw them through the window, don’t you remember?

Marcos: Fuck, that’s right, but back then we thought it was just a kid thing. Dad wasn’t happy though.

Priscila: I can’t believe this! You saw us kissing under the water?

Marcos: Under the water? No, it was an innocent kiss on the stairs.

Priscila: Oh, shit...

Adrián: That’s what I’m thinking. Oh, shit.

River: What kiss under the water?

Hugo: Damn, look at the neighbor from across the street...

Marcos: It’s crystal-clear water is totally his thing.

River: Priscila, they don’t have the balls but I’m the oldest, so I guess it’ll have to be me: are you a virgin?

Adrián: Fuck.

Priscila: Bye.

Marcos: What a temper. Has she been this way since puberty? I don’t recall being that bad. I was a saint.