Maldeamores (Lovesick) (Heightsbound #0.5) Read online

“I’m sorry I was a drunk idiot,” I say.

  “You ruined Lucky’s party,” she accuses.

  “I know I did. I’m sorry.”

  “Just because he gets jealous—it doesn’t mean that he wants you,” she explains.

  “I know it doesn’t. Anyway, that would be gross. We’re related. He’s like my brother,” I rattle off like an automaton. “Are you gonna let me in or not?”

  “I guess so,” Yari says, finally sliding the lock.

  I take my jacket off and lay it over the back of a chair. I scan the house; her parents are out. I wonder if Lucky ever comes here to see her.

  “Sorry you’re such a bitch,” Yari says, breaking into a smile.

  “Sorry you’re such a slut,” I say, punching her in the arm.

  We make up over two Pepsis, a bag of Cheetos and four episodes of Lost.

  “Are you gonna work this summer?” I ask her, licking my orange fingers.

  “Hell no! We’re going to PR for the whole month of July. I’m gonna hook up with some fine-ass Boricua brothers and spend all day at the beach!”

  “Sounds good to me. We’re going to take trips to tour schools. I might just see if I can get my part-time job back at the Y.”

  “You should live a little, Belén. Go on a trip with Jeremy. Give up that V card you been holding onto since the sixth grade, you freaky sister-wife. You know those things expire.”

  “Jeremy doesn’t turn me on. I like him as a friend. Maybe I’m saving it for marriage, Yari. Ever thought of that?”

  “Yeah, but it’s gonna grow cobwebs and then if you start using it late—how long is it even good for?”

  “Are you going to miss Lucky while he’s away at boot camp?” The silence is heavy. I probably shouldn’t have asked that.

  “Bey, Lucky is fucking fine, and he’s good in bed—I’m not gonna lie. But the truth is that he isn’t really very nice to me. He kind of treats me like shit. I want a guy who buys me nice stuff and who doesn’t look at other chicks.”

  It makes me sad when she says it. Sad for all three of us. Maybe it’s good that he’s leaving. Maybe we all need some space.

  I make it through four days without seeing my cousin. But at night I can’t sleep. I fight with the blankets and get up thirty times to pee. Mami buys me melatonin and some tea from the botánica, but I can’t even close my eyes because all I see is him. I can’t eat either and I’m losing my energy. I’ve been ignoring Jeremy’s phone calls. All I want to do is lie in my bed and read. And cry. I cry so hard that a vein bursts in my eye. It looks like a red spider. Lucky hurts so much that even my eyes are bleeding.

  Mami drags me back to the botánica on Friday night so I can get a cleansing. We go in a back room separated from the rest of the store by a dark green velvet curtain. My mom speaks in hushed tones to the proprietress and she prepares some herbs with a mortar and pestle. Mami tells her I’m maldeamores, which strikes me as funny because Lucky used those same words. Lovesick. Aficiado. I can’t help but wonder if he’s bad off too or if he’s moved on to some other girl. He’s fucking her brains out. His dick is already hard for somebody else.

  I can barely hold my head up when I think of his smile. I get chills when I remember what he did to me. Gooseflesh all over my body just from thinking about his mouth.

  I listen to her chants and I swallow the concoction she’s so carefully made and measured out. She and Mami chat forever while she scratches out a receipt by hand on a pad of paper. We’ve got some candles and a smoker to keep the cleansing going at home. Who am I to get in the way of the purification that will rid me of my terrible desires? I think it’s sexist and old-fashioned but I’m not going to say that out loud.

  Even though the sickness is the most awful thing I’ve ever felt, I’m not entirely convinced I want it to stop. The pain keeps me connected to Lucky. At this point, the pain is the only thing I’ve got.

  I make a mental note to buy a book of spells next time I’m at the used bookstore. The problem is that the kind of spells I want to cast would probably contradict everything they’ve just done. I remember one that Mami did on Hector and I watched her carefully as she explained the steps. Hector has been around the longest out of any of Mami’s boyfriends, so maybe it’s a spell that actually works.

  “You believe in all that stuff?” I ask her as we make our way back to the apartment.

  “I’d do anything to take away your pain, mi vida, anything to help. Lucky isn’t a bad boy, Belén, but he was born with fire on his heart. If you love him, you will spend your life trying to put that fire out. And you, mi hija, you are special too. To me, you are like precious glass. Glass can withstand fire for a long time, my girl, but eventually, it will bend.”

  I squeeze her hand and force a smile. I hate it when she talks like a fortune teller, but I get what she means regardless.

  Lucky is just too much for a girl like me to handle.

  Lucky

  Twelve weeks for me to chase Belén out of my body. Twelve weeks for me to prove that I’m exceptional and that I deserve to join the elite forces and fight for my country. Eighty-four days for me to work her out of my mind and focus on something real. Something that I can actually do instead of only fantasizing about.

  I’m worried that I’ll go crazy not being able to keep an eye on her. I’m scared that I’ll fucking lose it thinking about her with other guys. I’m terrified that I’ll give up everything just to be by her side. That I’ll come running back here to her with nothing to fucking offer her except a life full of shame. I take it all one breath at a time. I know one thing for fucking shit sure: I’m leaving early. There is not a chance in hell I can say goodbye to Len. All it would take is for me to look into her eyes. I’d break down. I’d drop everything I’ve worked for just to hold her in my arms.

  All night long I talk to her over and over in my head. Belén, you are better than this. Don’t shed a single tear over me. Belén, you have my whole heart, please don’t ever hurt on account of me. Belén, you are perfect. I ruined you. I’m so fucking sorry.

  I decide to write her a note because I can’t be so cold as to just walk the fuck away. Leave her here feeling like I didn’t care and like she didn’t mean everything to me. Just because I’m too much of a fucking coward to even say goodbye to her. It might be stupid, but I want her to know that I haven’t been dicking around. I haven’t touched another girl since that night. I need her to know that her body is sacred to me.

  I scrap it a thousand times because it’s impossible to express what I want to say.

  Len, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d fuck you a thousand and one different ways. Bey, I’d drag you off to my cave and make you have all of my babies. Belén, even though you’re only seventeen, I would marry you right. Fucking. Today. If I dipped in your sweet pussy it would spoil me for life. I’d never take my dick out of you. Bey, I’m going crazy because I can’t have you. I’m afraid I hurt you. All I want is what’s best for you.

  But I don’t write any of that shit. Instead, I take a needle and inject heroin into the femoral vein in my groin. I feel the razor sharp heat of relief shoot straight down my leg and pierce through my sick heart.

  Belén

  My mom once told me that the season you’re born in affects your temperament. She says those born in summer are impulsive and quick. Winter people are slow and calculated, like fish swimming in cold water. They move slower but they’re thinking deeper.

  I’m early spring and my mom is fall. She says that means I open up shop and she’s always trying to close. I’m bursting with new ideas while she’s trying to put things to rest. Mami says some day when we least expect it, I’m going to blossom open and beautiful things will happen. That the sun will be shining and all the birds singing. She told me that even though we all know what a little green bud is capable of, it�
�s still a miracle to watch it happen. I hope when it does, I’ll be with someone who matters.

  I buy two jars of sweet clover honey at the local supermarket. It’s a shitty, rundown store that smells like cockroaches and bleach. I try to avoid it as much as possible. I hide the honey in my backpack in case I run into anyone I know. After debating for way too long back in the kitchen, I finally decide to write “Luciano” instead of “Lucky” on the tiny slip of paper. I timidly lick both of the ends. I lick them again quickly in case the first time wasn’t enough. Then I roll it tight from right to left, carefully following the instructions. I drop the tiny roll with Lucky’s name into the bottom of an empty Mason jar. Then I squeeze those two pints of sweet clover honey on top. The honey is thick and golden and it oozes lazily from the lip. I watch it closely as it folds and converges, folds and converges, until it drowns the little slip.

  I stick my finger under the flow and bring it up to my lips. I pop it in my mouth and let the sweetness melt on my tongue. When all the honey is transferred, I screw the lid on tight. I tip the jar back and forth and Lucky’s name barely moves. It’s magnified by the honey and the paper has come unraveled a bit. This is going in the fridge behind Hector’s beer where no one will find it.

  Luciano Cabrera will feel my love and be sweet on me forever.

  Lucky

  I spasm and curl into a fetal position until the cramp starts to subside. The fever heat trickles through me, slowly warming and soothing until my muscles relax and I spread all the way out on the floor. I stare at the water damage in the ceiling until it becomes a clear, blue sky. I feel so alone without Lenny. Vultures are already circling, waiting for me to die. Maybe I’m waiting too.—I just want this to be over.

  I’ve never been so thirsty. My mouth is ages gone bone dry. I remember kissing Belén goodbye, but I don’t remember ever leaving her side.

  Another cramp wracks my body and I curl into it. I tell the fever to keep spreading—to warm my veins so I can leave this life. I close my eyes to the blazing sear of the sun. I can see my own veins all lit up behind my lids.

  My eyes fly open again and I can tell I’m hit. But Belén leans in and blocks the sunlight. She kisses my lips with the sweetest tender kiss that soothes my thirst and tastes just like honey.

  Belén

  I come banging in the door from bowling with Jeremy. It was my first time. Once I got over wearing borrowed clown shoes, I actually had fun. Jeremy is still so odd to me, but I should try to get over it. At least he wants to hang out with me, which is more than I can say for most people. If not for my family, Mr. Sánchez and Yari, I’d be an absolute wallflower with not one person to talk to.

  Mami is in the kitchen making a breakfast shake for tomorrow because she’s working two jobs. She says we can’t depend on the scholarship money and we won’t even know how much we’ll get until next year, so best to save now. She plans to get me through college single-handedly—the most determined woman in the world, my mom. She kisses me like normal but I can already tell that something’s off.

  “Did you have fun with ése Jeremy?”

  “Yeah, it was good,” I say, opening the fridge. I don’t tell her that the whole time all I could think of was how much fun Lucky would have had – how he’d be a natural like he is with all sports. He’s laugh his head off at all of my gutter balls instead of saying, “Nice try,” and flashing an encouraging smile like Jeremy did.

  “Listen, Belén, I found this,” she says, sliding my honey jar spell out of the cupboard. My eyes open huge, but my mouth decides to say nothing.

  “I can’t help it, Mom. I’m broken. Since I made it, I can sleep at night. That’s worth something at least, isn’t it?”

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I know how you feel. I fell in love when I was nineteen and it was with the wrong person.”

  I shake my head at her. “I’m trying, Mom. It’s the best I can do.” I can tell she wants to hug me and I cross my arms to ward her off. She sighs loudly and puts one hand on her hip and the other on the counter.

  “This spell works better if you put next to his name, something that represents you.”

  I drop my bag and run to my room without question. Grabbing the baby food jar off of my dresser, I sprint back to the kitchen and the glass rattles in my hand as I go.

  I have seventeen pieces of red sea glass; one for every year of my life. I didn’t plan it out that way, it just happened. I set the glass down on the counter and stare expectantly at my mom.

  “Beach glass,” she says.

  “Yup. The red ones.”

  “Good choice,” she says, unscrewing the top.

  “Is it okay if it sits on top, Mom? Or is it supposed to be down at the bottom next to his name?”

  “It has to be next to his name. What do you say we drop it in and it might float for a few days? It will find its way to the bottom eventually, next to Lucky.”

  “It might not. It’s too light. I can’t wait, Mom. I’ve got a whole summer ahead of me without him.”

  “Or longer,” she says as she opens the jar and shakes one of the rubies into her palm. My mom has worked hard her whole life and her hands are weathered to show it.

  She reaches into the silverware drawer and extracts the tongs we use for fried chicken. She clicks the gas on the burner and out pops a blue flame. She plunges my beach glass into the fire, then looks at me and winks. She heats that sucker up until the little red heart is black from the smoke.

  I unscrew the cap to my honey jar and Mom releases the red drop from the tongs. It flies to the bottom like a shooting star, cutting through the viscous honey, and lands right next to Lucky’s name.

  “I’m not doing this so that you stay in love. I’m helping you because I can’t stand to see you sick. You will find a nice boy like Jeremy and you’ll forget you ever felt this way about your cousin.”

  “I know, Mom. Thank you.” I seriously doubt it, but I’m not going to tell her that.

  “Take a deep breath, hija mía,” she says.

  I sit down on the stool. I knew there was something else. I could smell it.

  She passes me an envelope. Across the front is my name. The handwriting I’d know anywhere.

  “Did he drop it off or did you see him?”

  “It was under the door when I got home.”

  “Did you read it?”

  She nods her head. My face falls.

  “Mom, it’s private!”

  “I love Lucky, Belén, as if he were my own son. But regardless, it is my job to protect you, even if it means I have to protect you from him.”

  I wait until the sun’s gone down to read the letter. Somehow I need a blanket of darkness to surround me, to cover me and shield me from the light, from anything that’s judging me. I know it’s goodbye without even reading it. I know he’s gone already, I can feel it.

  Belén,

  I don’t remember a time without you. This will be our first separation, won’t it? You scare me more than anything else on the planet, yet you’re the sweetest person I know. Walking straight into war with no experience scares me less than walking into your arms. I don’t know if a life without you is worth living. I don’t even know if I want to find out. But I’ll keep pushing you away, Belén, a million times if I have to. All that means is that I love you better than I love myself.

  I’ve got to get the fuck out before I ruin us both. Never think that me leaving is me rejecting you. Leaving is the only way I know how to protect you. Stay away from me, Len. And try to put some of that love you got into yourself.

  Your cousin,

  Luciano

  I take a little bite of the paper and eat it. I’m not sure why. There’s an equal desire in me to destroy and absorb it, so I let the paper grow gummy in my mouth. I swallow it d
own to help me accept it. I can’t even think of another way out. I guess I’ll have to spend my whole life pretending. Pretending that I want what everyone else wants. Walking away from Lucky will be my own funeral procession with the real Belén lying dead in the coffin. I’ll never let her out for anyone else to see. She’s not perfect if she’s in love with her cousin. She’s defective and so is he.

  Chapter 15

  Lucky

  Getting clean is easier than getting over Belén. The shakes, the tremors and the shits, a non-stop fever that keeps me nice and delirious. I use methadone the first week and Tylenol with codeine plus Xanex the next. By the third week, I do a two-day water fast and fruits and vegetables for two days after that. I’m back out training for boot camp by the end of my third week there. The rehab joint is in Florida; there’s gators and lizards and all of that. The people are nice and really religious, everything is Jesus-this and Jesus-that. But the price tag was something my ma could swing and they promised to keep their traps shut about me being in the program and assured us they could guarantee a clean piss test by the deadline.

  We have group therapy and I’m so fucking different from everyone else. First off, I’m the youngest person here. I’m the only New Yorker. Everyone else looks like an old biker and the worst problem is always the meth. We don’t got a lot of tweakers in Manhattan, though I’ve seen more and more meth coming into the Bronx. But I’m indiscriminate when it comes to drugs. I do a little bit of this and that here and there to keep the edge off. God knows some weed helped me get through some rough patches in life. But I’ve got to shake all that shit out of my system. I’m just here till I can guarantee a clean test.

  The real drug I’m hooked on is my cousin Belén. The real sickness I’m kicking is her in my system. She’s gotten into every little corner and taken over. I can’t escape her when I’m sleeping; she’s almost all I see in my dreams. I can’t stop looking for her during waking hours, half sleeping, half dreaming that she’ll walk in the door. No rehab can cure me of that problem. I’m lovesick. Tengo maldeamores.