Page 21 of Capicú Summer

Five Summers Ago…

Homecoming…

The sound of salsa playing, kids screaming, and dominoes being shuffled fills the summer afternoon. The sun’s still high in the sky, burning everything golden. The block smells like weed and barbecue—my favorite kind of perfume. One I’m sure I’ll miss when I finally make it outta here. When I’m on real stages. Not block corners. Not backyard barbecues.

I’m gonna make it. Big. Like Selena. It didn't matter that she was gone long before I was born. Her voice still raised me. Her music made me believe in something bigger than this block. It made me hungry. I glance at the mirror. My black bandana shirt is tied across my back, the little triangle of fabric flashing golden brown skin on the sides. Black booty shorts cling to my hips, and my Jordan Retros tie the look together. I fluff my curls with my hand, scrunch and release, scrunch and release—until they fall how I like.

Then I hear it. A sharp and high pitched sound that shoots electricity through me, freezing me in place. Recognition crashes over me, drags me under, then lets me breathe again. I know that sound… That whistle, means he’s home. My smile hits before I turn to the window and open it. There he is, Yael.

Taller now. Broader. The lower half of his arm inked and flexed, his waves glinting in the sun. I can’t believe he’s finally out, and this time I hope he stays out of trouble. Distance isn’t something I’m willing to put between us ever again. I wonder if he’s mad that I never wrote to him. Does he even know? The thought fades away when he smiles, and every lie I ever told myself—awakens the truth.

“Hey, you!” I call down. He blocks the sun with his hand, squinting up at me with that crooked-ass smile I used to dream about.

“Hey, stranger.”

My grin widens and I’m sure my dimples are showing. I probably look goofy but I don’t care—he’s back now. How easy it was for me to ignore him while he was away, and now seeing him, it’s like he never left.

“Time inside did you well,” I add, and he laughs, licking his lips as he devours me with a look.

“Yeah, you think so?”

I squint my eyes, pursing my lips a little. “Ehh, now that I think about it. Tas flaco…”⁠* I say with a lazy shrug.

Yael chuckles harder. “Good one, Santos. Get down here and hug me. I’ve missed you, girl.”

And just like that, my stomach flips and the butterflies spill into it. Who could have thought that two rivals could love each other this much? Before all of this, all I wanted was to be with Lenny, only for life to show me that it’s not what I truly wanted. My pulse thrums, and once again, I’m sixteen and waiting by the bodega for Yael after school just so we can sneak away from my brother, hold hands, and make out. Everything was perfect until Yael started hanging out with the local gang. By the time fall arrived, Yael was so deep in that life that he was sent to juvie and, naturally, Lenny and I got closer.

Taking a deep breath in, I compose myself but it’s no use. I’m a bundle of nerves. I expected to be cool and collected, after all it’s been months. But time away did nothing to stop the ache in my chest, the hollowness every time I looked outside the bodega or walked anywhere in the barrio. He was first. My first love…

Now he’s back… and I don’t know what to do with myself. Shaking my hands, I take another lungful of air, mustering the courage to walk out my room and into the hall. The house smells like fritura. My mom has been working on making fried appetizers for a double celebration. Yael’s release which happened to fall on Neno’s birthday.

“Smells good here.” Grabbing a piece of fried plantain and stuffing it in my mouth, my mother gives me a knowing look.

“I bet it does. Go say hi before Neno comes back,” she says as she smacks my hand away from the tray. “No more, I’m tired of frying, it’s hot as fuck in this kitchen. Now go.”

Using her hand, she sends me away and I happily listen. Time seems to slow down with each step I take out the small orange kitchen and head out the back door, down the three small steps that lead to my backyard. I pass by Abuelo who plays dominoes with his friends. Ruben who sits by the steps spitting game to the neighbor’s baby momma. Then I see him, standing by the spray painted mural. With his white beater lazily hanging around his neck, a Corona in his hand, and a blunt on his lip.

“Hi,” I whisper.

Slowly, his gaze moves from my legs and stops at my eyes, all the love and desire I thought might have died with my silence is all I see in his eyes.

“Hi.” He exhales the smoke quickly and opens his arms wide, and I don’t hesitate to crash my body into his. Breathing him in. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His arms wrap around me, the cold beer cooling down my skin when it touches my bare back.

“I think I win this one, Adri.” Squeezing me tighter, he breathes me in, smiling against my hair. “I missed the smell of your hair…” He drags in the air, making sure to press his nose against me. “So fucking much.”

Guilt claws at my chest. The oppressive weight of shame settles in my bones. We break away for a moment, our chests still touching, his hand resting on the small on my back as he brings the beer to his lips and takes a drink.

“Has he been good to you?”

I hesitate for a second, not sure how to answer. He deserves the truth, but I can’t even look at his face. How did he find out? The question rings through my head like a bell. Nausea coils tight in my stomach. I can’t even force myself to meet his gaze, my fingers trace the outline of a scar between his shoulder blades, it’s new. What does it say about me? I know more about his body than Lenny’s.

Yael tenses under my touch. “It happened a while back, when I first got in. Got shanked from behind.” My fingers stop, and we stay rooted in place. And even though I should, I don’t pull away. My body squirms beneath his heated stare. Finally, I muster enough strength to put some space between us and ask, “Rival?”

He takes a large gulp of air before answering, “Let’s not talk about it, Ciela.”

The reaction of hearing his own special nickname for me, it’s visceral. The corner of my lips curve, warmth spreading through me rushing up my neck. Yael always tells me I’m his sky but doesn’t like calling me Cielo which is the Spanish word for sky. So, he made his own version—mi Ciela—and it stuck.