Page 71 of That Last Summer

River: Marcos was pretty bad.

Hugo: Marcos is still going through it.

Adrián: Guys, Pris hung up.

Marcos: Shut it, fuckers. What do we do about our baby girl?

Alex’s visit to his neighbor’s house went much better than expected. The familial atmosphere there was intoxicating as Alex breathed it in. Dozens of objects filled the shelves, covered the tables, floors, stairs, almost every corner of the house: videogames, movies, balls, magazines, pictures, drawings made by the Cabana siblings when they were kids, Adrián’s paintings... It was spectacular. Such tidy disorder was unthinkable in his house. It reflected the life of the whole family, past, present and future. He could almost see his things in here, although he had no idea where that thought came from. He realized, then, how different their childhoods had been. How much the Cabanas’ home said about their lives. And he was sure they were not afraid of the dark.

Priscila was nervous—way too nervous—but the relaxed and enthusiastic attitude of her parents (not her idiot brothers) smoothed things along.

They dined as a family, laughing, chatting, telling stories, and questioning Alex about the Olympics, which were barely a month and a half away.

That night, Alex and Priscila shared a stealthy goodbye kiss at the door, and the second half of June they spent in the swimming pool.

“Are you going to teach me how to swim?” she said when Alex made his suggestion. “Me? I’ve been swimming since I was three.”

Standing to his waist in the swimming pool, Alex burst out laughing, then drew Priscila to him and became serious. “I’m going to teach you how to survive, in case something ever happens”—he nodded toward the sea—“out there. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They divided the first fortnight of July between the beach and Jellyfish Cove; Alex would have to travel to the Olympic Village soon, and he fancied salt water. He’d agreed with his coaches that he would swim every day at his old club, but he swam in the sea too. With Priscila.

They shared countless hours there, playing, swimming, having fun. Kissing and touching under the mantle of the water. Talking. And Priscila was hardly stung by the jellyfish anymore; she had it almost under control.

She used to carry her old camera everywhere and would take snapshots of almost everything they did. Alex rarely saw her without it. She wanted to immortalize their time together, all those amazing moments; there were plenty of them, so many that she imagined herself covering all her walls with their pictures. But there was something that bothered her, just one thing that made Priscila scowl. That was when Alex’s brother’s red-haired girlfriend appeared on the scene.

The way she talked to Alex, how she kissed him on the cheeks, and the way she... touched him, in general... Priscila didn’t like it. It didn’t look brother-in-law-ish at all, quite the opposite. But she couldn’t bring herself to discuss it with Alex yet. Who was she to question his relationship with his brother’s girlfriend? Nobody. She was nobody. So she kept quiet. She said nothing and continued to enjoy her neighbor.

Until the day they had to say goodbye. Alex’s departure was imminent, so they had spent the previous night together, wandering the town, making love in Jellyfish Cove—they had to hide there because they were stopped every few steps by well-wishers cheering Alex on for the Games—and they treasured every minute. Priscila was almost nineteen years old, she was in college, studying journalism. She was allowed to spend the night with him now.

At five in the morning, they stopped their bikes near their neighborhood. They didn’t want to reach the end. It was hard to say goodbye—even if it was only for a few weeks, it was hard. They were used to each other’s company, and they’d have loved to live Alex’s adventure in Beijing together.

He wanted to ask her to go with him; his family knew Priscila well, they wouldn’t mind. But he didn’t dare.

She wanted to go with him, she felt comfortable with his family. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him, either.

So they said goodbye.

“Good luck in those cute little races of yours. The Mandarin world is waiting for you,” Priscila joked.

“Cute little races?”

“Exactly. If you think about them that way, they don’t seem so imposing anymore, do they?

“No. They don’t.”

“You’re good, Alex. Swimming is what you do best. You’re going to take the world by storm, I know it.”

“Are you going to watch?”

“Of course! No way I’m missing it.”

“There are other things I’m good at by the way,” he said, his voice honey-sweet.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like kissing you...”