Swept Away Read Free

me. I haven’t seen him in days. I haven’t drowned in days. And I haven’t had any dreams about him in days. Whoever he is, I hope he’s gone.               
    I inform Camilla of his absence, while we scan the sales rack.
    “So, why do you look so sad?” she asks, sizing up a tube top against her chest.
    “Your mom is never going to let you buy that,” I say, and take it from her, putting it back on the rack. “And I don’t look sad. Do I?”
    Camilla shrugs. “Maybe it’s the hair. What’d your mom say?”
    “Well, first she gasped, and then she said, ‘It’ll grow out, don’t worry,’ as if someone had attacked me with a pair of scissors while I slept.”
    “It does look like that.”
    “Shut up.”
    Camilla and I separate, each to our own tastes in fashion. We smile and wave at each other from across the store. Mrs. Vargas finds her daughter and frowns at every tube and crop top she’s shown. Camilla rolls her eyes, says something in Spanish, and then storms off. I continue browsing. I feel fine, great, until I don’t—the sensation, the pressure, the darkness has returned. I’m drowning, adrift, and then I rise, above the water, and breathe in the fresh air. I find Camilla, my anchor, but I don’t tell her what happened. I don’t want her to worry. 
    We continue shopping and I’m done before she is. I check out and Mrs. Vargas hands me the keys to her car, so I can secure my bags. The humidity is stifling and I’m glad I’m wearing shorts. I’m almost to Mrs. Vargas’s car when I’m pulled under again, drowning. It’s so intense that I drop the bags and fall on the hard cement, scraping my knees bloody. I raise my head, trying to get above the surface.
    He’s here. What is he doing to me? Haven’t I suffered enough?
    I hear a car, speeding away. I can breathe again. The waters have receded. I take my time to the car, placing the bags inside. I’m hesitant to return to the store, to let Camilla see my distress. I breathe, in and out, calming my racing heart. I’m on dry land again.               
    I reenter the store to find Mrs. Vargas and Camilla arguing, in Spanish. 
    It’s music to my ears.

Baby Steps
     
     
    Camilla decides we’re going to eat lunch at Libertad. 
    “Hopefully, Alejandro will be there,” she says to me, winking,
    I roll my eyes.
    Libertad is busy, as it always is. Vibrant music is playing. Cuban and American flags adorn the outside. Patrons switch back and forth between Spanish and English.              
    Cigar smoke fills the inside, so Mrs. Vargas insists that we eat at an outside table. 
    “Alejandro,” Camilla yells, as she waves.
    I turn to see him approach, smiling at me.
    I cut my eyes at Camilla.
    She waves a hand at me. “Can you take our order?” she asks him.
    “Of course,” he says, but talking to me. “Hey, Daria, how are you?”
    “Good,” I say, in a soft voice, suddenly shy.
    Camilla puts her arm around my shoulders. “She’s great, isn’t that right, Daria?”
    “Yeah,” I say in an unenthusiastic tone.
    Camilla smiles, and says to Alejandro, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
    He blushes. “Uh, no,” he says.
    “Great,” says Camilla. “Daria is single too.”
    “Camilla,” says Mrs. Vargas in a stern tone, “you and your friend can talk later. He’s on the clock.”
    Camilla rolls her eyes and opens her menu. She tells Alejandro her order and snaps her menu close. “Happy, mama?” she asks.
    “Delighted,” Mrs. Vargas says in a dull tone, and then orders.
    “Daria?” says Alejandro, waiting, pen over pad. He’s smiling.
    I scan the menu and order a simple sandwich, water, nothing special.
    He takes the menu from me and our hands brush. He feels nice. I secure my hands in my lap. He promises to come back with our drinks, and then departs.
    I pinch Camilla’s arm.
    She slaps my arm. “What? He’s a great guy.”
    “Yes, he is, but I’m not ready.”
    “Camilla, leave