Page 2 of No Sweeter Poison

Turning on my heels, I assess the area and try to come up with a game plan. What to do when your cousin gets you guys lost in a foreign country? I wish I knew.

Then it hits me. The shore.

“Come on,” I extend my hand and pull her to her feet with ease. “Let’s head south.”

Karina frowns. “By the water—?”

“Exactly. And what’s by the water, Kay?” I tear open a granola bar and bite into it. Then immediately spit it out. Note to self: in addition to no longer allowing Karina to plan our annual trips, she is forbidden from packing healthy snacks as well.

She cuts me a look. “Stop wasting food.”

“It tastes like dirt.” I hand off the granola bar and she takes a bite. “There are people by the water. Businesses, attractions, hopefully someplace with WiFi where we can get directions.”

We upgraded our phones before leaving but those international plans are unreliable at best. Directions only ever load halfway and to change locations is nearly impossible. If we end up going the wrong way or need to reroute, we may as well give up and call it a day.

Karina and I don’t make it far before we spot a restaurant offering free Wi-Fi. Squinting at the sign, I try to read it, but Karina does instead.

“El Aliciente.” She reads aloud. “How very mysterious.”

“I have no idea what that means.” I seize hold of the door handle and pull it open. “Do you think we have to buy something to sit in here?”

The modest tan exterior of the building is a deceit. Inside is structured like a riad with columns supporting an upper mezzanine. A stained-glass dome overhead allows late afternoon light to shine down on the wrought iron tables and chairs in a kaleidoscope of color. Already my brain is picking apart the design and structure, noting the Arabic influences, arabesque settings, and intricate tile mosaics. The floor beneath my feet looks original to the building—at least mid-nineteenth century. To the right is a stage and elevated landing leading to a twirling staircase that disappears into nowhere. To the left is an old but well-maintained bar and behind it, a wall of antiqued glass. It feels like stepping into a dream.

Karina admires for only a moment before taking a seat and I follow suit. A waiter appears from behind a set of double doors near the bar and once he catches sight of us, makes his way over.

“Damn,” I say. “We do have to buy something.”

“That’s fine,” She checks the time on her phone. “We should eat anyway.”

I look around and notice how...empty everything is. Which is strange. In fact, not all of the chairs have been flipped right side up and set down next to the tables. Is this place not open yet?

“Perdón, señoritas, pero estamos—”

“Joni!”

All three of us look back at the man who just appeared by the bar. He’s drying a wet glass and shakes his head. “Están bien, déjalas.”

The waiter—Joni—nods and steps away to grab a pair of menus. Karina orders drinks first in flawless Spanish and when he asks if we’re interested in any appetizers from the dinner menu, Karina waits for me to respond but I expertly ignore her inquisitive gaze. She refuses with a polite smile and then Joni disappears.

“I thought part of why we decided to start in Spain was to help you work on your Spanish?”

I keep my eyes glued to the menu. “First of all, I do speak Spanish. Nuyorican Spanish.”

Karina can’t help herself; she laughs.

“Besides, I don’t even like the way they speak Spanish here. It drives me crazy.”

Joni returns with our drinks and I thank him with a smile. Sensing we may not be ready to order yet, he graciously leaves us to our own devices. A band descends from the stairs in the far-right corner and begins to set up the stage. While the others unpack their equipment, a girl with short, dyed-blonde hair starts playing on the guitar.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

“Oh, Dee,” she tells me. “You’re so funny.”

I look at her and smile. I really do love Karina. She stresses me out sometimes but as an only child, my cousin is the closest thing I have to a sister. Even though she’s a few years older and our relationship went through an awkward phase when she was a teenager and I was still a kid, nothing changed between us. Aside from her, I’m otherwise estranged from my father’s side of the family. It’s nice to have her in my life.

We even look alike too as she’s the only person with whom I share a familial resemblance besides my father. It makes me feel less alone, less like an outsider when I see her amber eyes and round face. We have “Rosario” noses as my mother liked to call them; narrow at the bridge and pointed at the tip, the kind people pay their plastic surgeons thousands of dollars to replicate. It’s one of the very distinctive traits of our family.

That’s where our similarities stop, though. Karina has shoulder length black hair and a caramel complexion whereas I’m more olive in complexion. My roots are chocolate brown and fade to a beautiful, rich auburn red, a token from my Titanic phase when I wanted to be Kate Winslet.