Page 34 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

One Year Before the Wedding

How can you tell someone’s a good friend? When your own parent communicates with them through you. I take a screenshot of my mother’s cooking tip and forward it to Javi. The read receipt appears immediately, so I tap the call button.

“Hey, I’m in Manhattan,” I tell him when he picks up.

“What for?” he asks.

“Tripp’s having an issue with the liquor license for Friday Night Frights. I’m appearing at an emergency hearing this afternoon. Was thinking we could have lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh damn, Mari, I can’t. I’m going to a birthday party.”

“Boo, that sucks. Who’s the birthday party for?”

“Um, well, I’m seeing someone new.”

“Oh, really ? And it didn’t occur to you to share the news? Because of the pact, of course.”

“It’s fairly recent, so I thought I would wait a little bit before I asked you to do your thing.”

“Mr. Báez, you are not complying with the spirit of our agreement. I’m supposed to evaluate any potential girlfriends as soon as possible.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…I’ve been busy. And I wasn’t even sure if this was going to go anywhere.”

“Fine. I’ll give you a pass this time. So, does this unvetted person in your life have a name?”

“Sofia.”

“Is it Sofia’s birthday?”

“No, it’s her…”

“I’m having trouble hearing you. Say that again.”

“I said it’s her son’s birthday.”

“She has a kid ?”

“Yeah, she has a kid. It’s not a felony.”

“I didn’t say it was,” I grumble. “It’s just…you’ve never suggested that you want kids or would want to date someone who has them.”

“Well, it’s early days, so…”

“And I trust you’ve already perused Sofia’s social media accounts?”

He sighs. “Of course.”

“And?”

“And she likes to party. And bowl. That’s all I can tell so far. No immediate red flags.”

“Okay, this works out, then.”

“How?”

“Well, since I’m in town, I can go with you to the party.”

He chuckles. “How the hell am I supposed to spin that?”

“Easy. Tell her a close friend from college is here for only a day, and you invited her to stop by.”

“That’s kind of rude.”

“It’s a kid’s birthday party. It’s not that deep. How old is he?”

“Four.”

“Latine?”

“Yeah. Puerto Rican.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Javi. There’s gonna be like three hundred people at this party.”

“You’re right,” he says on a laugh. “Okay, fine, fine, fine. The party’s in Harding Park, in the Bronx. Twelve p.m. Want me to pick you up around eleven?”

“No, I’ll meet you there. If we arrive together, she might be suspicious of me. A drop-by feels more appropriate.”

“You’re quite the schemer.”

“It’s in my DNA. Send me the address.”

I hang up and riffle through my suitcase. What the hell does a person wear to a four-year-old’s birthday party? Actually, my outfit won’t even matter. I’m on a mission, and it has nothing to do with impressing someone.

***

“Three-thirteen’s right up there,” my rideshare driver says, pointing at a beige-and-brown bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined street.

The white iron fence is decorated with streamers and birthday balloons, and as I suspected, there are more than a dozen people hanging out around the perimeter of the house.

Small Puerto Rican flags border both sides of the short driveway. Because of course.

“That’s the East River?” I ask, taking in the breathtaking view of the city from this hidden gem of a neighborhood.

“Sure is.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, dear. Have fun.”

I climb out of the car and wave goodbye.

After texting Javi a quick hi, I’m here , I walk to the water’s edge just a few feet away.

Javi’s thumbs-up follows within seconds.

A minute later, he strolls over, casually dressed in blue jeans that hug his thick thighs and a forest-green T-shirt that gives everyone a partial view of his muscular arms. He’s also sporting my personal kryptonite: a five o’clock shadow that complements his strong jawline.

On the one hand, seeing him with someone else is a necessary part of my Get-Over-Javi plan.

On the other, seeing him at all, especially when he looks like this, makes it nearly impossible to remember the point of the plan.

“Hey, there,” he says, folding me in his arms.

I snuggle into him a little longer than is warranted. “Hey, you.”

“Let’s get you something to drink. They’re serving—”

A young woman with long curly hair rushes up to us and grabs Javi’s arm. “Papi, we have an emergency.”

Papi . So it’s like that, huh? This must be Sofia.

Javi eases out of our embrace and turns to her. “What’s going on?” He glances at me, then taps his forehead. “This is my friend, Mari, by the way. The one I told you about.”

“Hi, Mari, so nice to meet you,” she says with what appears to be a genuine smile. “And so sorry to interrupt, but I have a bunch of restless four-year-olds and the entertainment just canceled on me.”

“Oh no, what a nightmare,” I say. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m hoping Javi can.”

“What do you need?” Javi asks.

“So I hired a guy from work to play Elmo, but the rat bastard claims he’s sick.

I should have known he would bail, so this is totally on me.

Anyway, I have the costume and the music.

And really, I’d get my brother to step in, but he’s too short, and you just happen to have the perfect build and height for the suit. ”

“You want me to play Elmo,” Javi says slowly, his head tipped to the side. “From Sesame Street .”

Sofia grimaces sheepishly. “Just an hour.” When Javi flinches, she adds, “Or a half hour. I’ll take anything . For Danny! I figured since you’re an actor, this would be easy for you.”

“Calling me an actor’s a stretch. And anyway, why can’t Danny’s father do it? Isn’t he here?”

“Angel? No, he wouldn’t even know how to act. He only wants to drink beer and make trouble.”

I chuckle on the inside. Javi doesn’t need a relationship gatekeeper; Sofia’s going to tank the possibility of dating him all on her own.

Still, I know him well. He’s a softie at heart, and there’s no way he won’t do this, not when Sofia’s little boy is somewhere in the backyard waiting for his favorite furry monster to make an appearance.

“But I don’t know anything about Sesame Street ,” Javi says, scratching the back of his head.

“I do! I can coach you through it!” I say.

Javi’s eyes grow wide as saucers, as if he’s telepathically telling me to go straight to hell without passing Go.

Sofia throws her exquisitely manicured hands across her chest in relief. “Oh my God, you two would be lifesavers.”

Javi sighs. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it. Little man deserves to get his birthday wish.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m outside Sofia’s bedroom, waiting for Javi to change into the costume while Sofia and the other parents wrangle the kids for a quick lunch before the special guest arrives.

Sofia’s grandmother, who I’ve since learned owns this home, keeps shuffling past me in her housedress and slippers.

She appears to give zero fucks that there’s a party going on outside and is uber concerned with the strange lady—me—standing in her hallway.

From inside the room, I hear a clatter, then a thump, so I knock on the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“No,” Javi yells back.

“Are you dressed?”

“Yeah.”

“May I come in?”

“If you must.”

I slip inside the room and come to a halt. “It’s…brown.”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s…more than that. The costume’s matted. As if this muddy monster took a dive in the river out front, shook himself dry, and kept it moving. Also, there are no monster feet; Javi’s lace-ups are peeking out from the frayed hem. In short, this is the Wish.com version of Elmo.

“Say something,” he pleads.

“I can’t,” I say, holding back a laugh. “I’m officially dead.”

He points at me with an accusing finger. “You got me into this mess!”

“Me?” I say, daintily placing my hands on my chest. “All I did was offer to help.”

“That was enough,” he says grumpily. With an exaggerated sigh, he slaps his furry hands against his sides. “This is never going to work. They’re going to know they’re being bamboozled, and they will be merciless.”

“They’re four-year-olds; they won’t care. Just give them what they expect. Elmo is kind. Elmo listens. Elmo speaks about himself in the third person.”

“Elmo sounds like my abuela.”

“No, Elmo sounds like someone who’s just inhaled helium. Maybe you should practice that.”

Javi clears his throat. “Hello, boys and girls. I’m hot as fuck in here already.”

“Javi, you can’t cuss out there.”

“No, I’m telling you I’m boiling inside here . I’m never going to make it more than ten minutes. Let’s just get this over with.”

I take his hand and help him navigate the short set of steps to the home’s fenced-in backyard, where two dozen toddlers are running around bopping each other with neon pool noodles even though there is no pool to speak of. It’s easy to spot the birthday boy, who’s wearing a red cape and a crown.

“Do you want me to introduce you?” I ask.

Javi groans. “I want you to shoot me with a tranquilizer gun.”

I try but fail to keep a straight face. It’s a pleasant day in May, but I imagine it’s much hotter in the costume. I’m not surprised he’s extra grumpy. Still. “Oh, hush. The kids are counting on you. Remember, it’s Danny’s big day.”

After signaling the DJ with a pinch of my fingers, he turns down the merengue playing through the speakers at each corner of the yard.

“Hey, everyone,” I say, trying to project my voice over the cacophony. “We have a special treat for you today!”

The kids turn in my direction, several sets of eyes bulging when they spy Javi behind me. A sweet little girl immediately starts crying; another runs away and hides in the folds of her mother’s skirt.

Danny, the guest of honor, stomps his foot. “That’s not Elmo!”

A chorus of “that’s not Elmo” reaches a fever pitch, and Javi slips behind me as though I’m his shield.