Donna

  “You don’t go on dates,” he said.

  “So? There’s always a first time, Mickey.”

  “My friends always asked me about you, why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Well, now you can tell them I do,” I said.

  His eyes widened. “Took you long enough,” he said, and I laughed. “Have a good time,” he muttered, and returned to his room.

  My bright little brother, I thought. At least he never feared being corrected by me. I knew he bragged about me more often than not. Now he would have something more to say. I suspected that my having a date pleased him almost as much as it pleased me, if not more.

  I hurried down the stairs. Something told me Greg would be right on time. He’d think that was very important to me. I was right.

  My parents were there to greet him, too. I could see they were pleased with his demeanor. He was mature and polite. My father spoke to him in Spanish, deliberately, I thought, to emphasize that Greg was taking on the responsibility of keeping me safe. My mother understood Spanish but didn’t use it often.

  After I got into the truck and we started away, Greg smiled with relief. Then he quickly said, “Tu madre es muy hermosa.”

  “You can say it in English.”

  He laughed. “Your father put me on the Spanish track.”

  “But you’re right, my mom is very beautiful,” I said. I didn’t mean to sound unappreciative, but to me, it was an obvious fact. My mother was clearly photogenic. She had never had a bad photograph taken of her.

  “So I can see why you’re so pretty, too,” he said.

  I avoided reacting. Maybe what I was really doing was being modest, but the truth was that I was afraid of what being pretty meant. Would his friends think so, too? How should I react to that, especially in front of the other girls? What if I sounded arrogant to them? In my mind, I saw myself traversing through minefields. I would surely say the wrong thing, at least to them, and appearing stupid was just not in my DNA.

  “Your parents ever take you to La Jolla Beach?”

  “No. We went to beaches elsewhere when I was younger, much younger, but not for years now.”

  “When you go to college, the other girls won’t believe you’re from California. They think we live on the beach.”

  “Somehow what the other girls will think of me doesn’t seem very important. I’m not sure about college yet. Our guidance counselor, Mrs. Pelham, thinks I could take the master’s exam in almost any subject now and get my degree.”

  He nodded. “I bet you could. Any idea of what you want to do?”

  “None,” I said. “Everything,” I added.

  He smiled. “For today, just have a good time.”

  I sat back. Why did that sound like the most difficult thing of all to do?

  Greg’s friends were already at the part of the beach we were going to, as he said, stake out for ourselves. They had blankets spread and music going.

  Mateo Flores, already down to his bathing suit, began to do salsa steps when he caught sight of me stepping out of Greg’s truck. Renata Solis leaned over to turn up the music. She was wearing quite an abbreviated bikini. Her family had moved here from Honduras a little more than two years ago.

  “Hola!” Mateo shouted. “Come dance, Señorita Genius.”

  “Calm down, Mateo, or you’ll wear yourself out and fall asleep like last time and get eaten by bugs,” Greg warned him.

  The others gathered around and laughed—Sandra Cisneros, Damian Rechy, Renata Solis, and Ernie Carty, all seniors like Greg and Mateo. Sandra stood up and began dancing with Mateo, leaning into him very closely. One of the misconceptions about Latinos was that dancing well was something we did naturally. My father liked to dance, and my mother was good, but I always felt awkward and out of step.

  I knew I certainly couldn’t be as sexy as these two. They were shouting for us to join them.

  Greg leaned over to whisper. “I think they were into the tequila early. Don’t worry. They’ll get sleepy. They always do.”

  He carried our picnic basket and put it down a few feet from the others. I dropped my beach bag next to it and helped him spread out our blanket.

  “We really need umbrellas, too,” I said, thinking of UV damage.

  “You can cover yourself with sand, or Greg can cover you,” Damian said. “I can help.”

  “Irish is bad for sun,” Mateo teased. “Not for us Latinos!” he cried. “Right, Señorita Genius?”

  “Stop calling her that, Mateo,” Greg said sharply.

  Mateo laughed and shrugged as he danced. “That’s what she is, compañero.”

  “It’s all right,” I told Greg.

  I took out my sunscreen and began applying it to my face. When I took off my cover-up, Greg offered to do my neck and shoulders.

  “Don’t miss a spot,” Mateo warned him.

  “You’re right about the umbrella,” Greg told me, thinking. “I have an idea. Relax for a minute.”

  He turned and hurried back to his father’s truck.

  “He’s leaving so soon?” Mateo asked me.

  “Maybe you’re making too much noise, like static,” I said, and everyone went “OOOOOH.”

  He laughed and continued to dance. Greg returned with a roll of canvas and two metal poles. We watched him dig the poles deep into the sand and then unroll the canvas, draping it over the poles, which expanded when he pulled them up, improvising a tent to cast shade over our blanket.

  “That’s very clever,” Mateo said. “Señorita Genius is rubbing off on you.”

  “Maybe she is,” Greg said. I moved under the canvas. He bunched up some sand so I’d have a pillow under the blanket and then opened his picnic basket. “Beer, Coke, water?”

  “Water,” I said. “Alcohol dehydrates you, and the sun is already doing a good job of that.”

  Sandra and Renata moaned.

  “Sometimes it’s bad to know too much,” Renata said.

  Greg handed me some water and then reached in, thought a moment, and brought out another bottle of water. “I’ll build up some insurance first,” he said.

  “She’ll turn you into a real gringo,” Sandra warned him. Before he could respond, she turned the music up louder, and she and Renata continued to dance with Mateo.

  Because Greg and I closed our eyes and were half hidden from them, the others began conversations without us. I half listened, mostly intrigued with what the girls were saying. They talked about a new dance club they could get into, new clothes, shampoo, and skin creams, drifting into Spanish occasionally. The boys were arguing about the school’s chances to win the title in baseball this year. Once in a while, Mateo tossed a question at Greg, who responded with monosyllabic answers.

  I felt his hand move to mine and take it while we lay there. He turned on his side so he could look down at me.

  “My mother prepared cemitas for us. You know what they are?”

  “Tortas,” I said. “Sandwiches. My grandmother would have them for us when we visited her. You should have bread covered with sesame seeds. Usually avocado, some meat, cheese, onions, papalo, and salsa.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said without hesitation.

  He laughed. We both drank some water.

  “Hey, come on, you two. Let’s get some exercise,” Damian said. He tossed a soccer ball out onto the beach.

  Mateo pulled a knife at least seven or eight inches long out of his backpack and walked off at least twenty-five feet between two lines he drew in the sand. “I’ll take the girls,” he declared, returning and throwing his knife onto the blanket. “That way, it will be fair.”

  “Oh, big shot,” Ernie said.

  “I’m the only one who was on the school team.”

  The girls rose and joined him.

 
Greg looked at me.

  “I never played soccer,” I said.

  “Just kick it to someone and try to get it over the line. We play a simple version.” He held on to my hand and stood, urging me up to my feet.

  “C’mon, Señorita Genius,” Mateo called to me. “You can be our goalie.”

  “Maybe she’ll stay on our side,” Greg said.

  “No fair. She’ll outsmart us. First to ten wins, and the losers have to go into the water and swim for a good minute. Boys bare-ass.”

  “No way,” Greg said.

  “Why not? You did it last year,” Mateo reminded him. The others backed him up.

  Greg turned to me. “I was a little drunk.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll play fifth column,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see,” I said, and crossed over to Mateo’s side. The girls were all giggling in anticipation. I looked at Greg. He smiled, remembering that a fifth column was a group within a country that was working for its enemies.

  “You think I’m the one with less chance, so I get the ball first,” Mateo said.

  “Go for it,” Greg said.

  As soon as Mateo touched the ball with his foot, Greg and Damian rushed him, but Mateo was as good as he claimed and turned the ball away from them and drove right past them to kick it over the line before Ernie could get to it.

  He laughed when he turned to us. “Thanks to me, you’ll see some choice bare ass, Señorita Genius.”

  Greg looked very upset.

  The next time Mateo touched the ball, Greg and Damian lay back. Mateo laughed and then turned and kicked the ball to Sandra. Greg and Damian rushed at her. She screamed and kicked to Renata, who happened to be very good, too. She drove the ball to Mateo, who kicked it just over Ernie’s head and across the line again. All the girls except me cheered.

  The next time Mateo kicked the ball, Greg managed to block it and drive it well to Damian, who went right past Renata. He kicked the ball too close to me, but I pretended to slip, and it went across the line.

  Mateo stood there with his hands on his hips, watching, and then peered at me. He nodded. “Okay, Señorita Genius.”

  After that, once he got to the ball, he didn’t pass it to anyone. After ten minutes, he had seven points, and Greg’s side still had only one. Mateo called time out to talk strategy with us girls, but all he really wanted to do was tease me.

  “Don’t you want to see your boyfriend’s ass more than mine?”

  “I don’t want to see anyone’s,” I replied.

  He laughed and went back at it, playing even harder and rougher, elbowing Damian in the stomach at one point to get past him and score his eighth and then ninth point.

  Greg’s team scored another that I really couldn’t block, and then Mateo kicked the ball to Renata, who kicked it well back to him when he ran past Greg. He turned and, with a perfect kick, scored the tenth point. All the girls except me cheered.

  “Pay up, boys!” Mateo shouted. He went to the blankets and popped open a beer.

  I felt myself trembling.

  Damian and Ernie looked at each other, laughed, and walked toward the water. I crossed over quickly toward our blanket. Greg, his head down but his face red with frustration and rage, walked toward me.

  “Where you going, Greg?” Mateo called.

  Greg paused and looked at him.

  “We had a deal. You go in bare-ass.”

  “Yeah,” Greg said, and smiled. “But you didn’t say where or when.”

  He reached for me. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Mateo screamed.

  I took Greg’s hand, and we started away.

  “That was dumb,” he said. “The whole thing is dumb.”

  “You said you did it, though.”

  “I guess I’ve grown up.”

  I tightened my grip on his hand, and we walked on, the others screaming insults at us.

  Some clouds had moved in from the west, so the sun wasn’t as intense.

  “Still think Mateo’s harmless?” I asked.

  “Not when he drinks too much tequila. He’ll sober up and calm down.”

  He paused and turned, so I did, too, and we could see Ernie and Damian run into the ocean bare-ass. The girls were screaming and laughing.

  “I guess I’ll have to pay up, too,” Greg said.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m not.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back to the girls and Mateo. “Hey!”

  They looked our way. Greg slipped off his suit with his back to me and ran into the water. They screamed at us, Mateo waving his arms and crying that it didn’t count. I slipped off my cover-up and walked to the edge of the water. Greg started toward me. I held out my dress and looked down. He rushed out and took it and began to dry himself off, his teeth chattering.

  “That’s like swimming in a refrigerator,” he said. “Thanks.”

  My heart was pounding. A warmth came over me that took my breath away for a moment. I think he sensed it.

  He put his suit on quickly, looked back at the others, and reached for my hand. I saw the look of satisfaction on his face and smiled to myself. He had done this because of me, because I was here, because it was important to him that I think well of him. Maybe it made him feel better about himself. It certainly did that for me.

  We continued our walk. The breeze felt good against my face. When I closed my eyes, I heard the sound of the sea and the terns. It was easy to imagine they were calling to us.

  “Nothing gets you in shape better than walking and running on the beach,” Greg said.

  “Mateo is very good at soccer.”

  “It was stupid to bet against him. His father was something of a star in Mexico. He played in the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City for the Pumas until he was about thirty, before he moved his family here.”

  “What does he do now?”

  “He has a small supermarket. Mateo hates working there, but his father makes him.”

  “Are you really good friends?”

  He shrugged. “Friends. I don’t know as I have really good friends. What do you think’s a good definition of a good friend?” he asked.

  “I don’t know everything, Greg.”

  “You know enough. So?”

  I thought a moment. “Someone who thinks of you first and himself second.”

  Greg smiled. “Yes, you do.”

  “Do what?”

  “Know everything,” he said, and continued us walking.

  I was thinking that I was suddenly the happiest I had been for some time, maybe even my whole life. When we reached a place on the beach where there were some large boulders, Greg led me around so we would be out of sight and kissed me before I could anticipate it. It was a long, soft kiss that sent a warm trembling through my body. I had tensed up when he began, but I felt myself relax to the point where I imagined I was floating. His lips moved over the side of my face, pausing to kiss my cheeks and my forehead and come down to my lips again. This time, I kissed him as deeply as he kissed me.

  “Donna,” he whispered, as if my name were enough to fully express everything he felt about me. It had never sounded as melodic or satisfying. When I was much younger, I dreamed of changing my name to something more significant, something with deeper philosophical meaning. I thought I deserved it, needed it. At least I should have been named Athena after the goddess of wisdom.

  I never embraced my name as happily and completely as I did at this moment. I wanted him to say it again and again.

  Together, we seemed to sink to the sandy floor. His lips went to my neck and slowly moved down to the tops of my breasts. His fingers found the zipper of my suit and lowered it enough for the top to loosen so he could nudge it gently down and over my breasts, exposi
ng my nipples. He kissed them and moaned with delight. We shifted onto our sides and faced each other. He kissed the tip of my nose and smiled. Then we kissed again and pressed our bodies closer, as close as Mateo and the other girls were when they danced.

  It was more difficult for him to stop than it was for me, but he managed it.

  “Let’s not be gone too long,” he whispered. “Maybe we can go somewhere by ourselves tonight. What do you think?”

  I didn’t think about the answer this time. “Yes.”

  He zipped up my suit for me, and we stood, brushing ourselves off. He, still damp, had more to brush. I helped him, and we laughed. Then we started back, neither of us needing to say a word.

  As we drew closer, we saw what Mateo had done.

  And the rage coming from Greg’s body competed with the heat of the sun.

  4

  Greg’s basket had been turned over, all the contents spilled onto the sand. Mateo sat there on his blanket, watching us approach.

  He was eating one of the sandwiches Greg’s mother had made for us. He held it up and waved it before taking another bite.

  “Delicioso, compañero,” he called, and laughed. He drank from a small bottle of what looked like tequila.

  Greg said nothing. He knelt down, put his basket upright, and began to pick up his bottles of soda, water, and beer, along with the napkins that hadn’t blown away. His bag of chips had been opened and spilled onto the sand.

  His rage and silence kept the others quiet, except for Mateo.

  “You don’t think it’s funny? You cheated us, compañero. We didn’t say only Señorita Genius got to see your bare ass. You lost fair and square. We decided you forfeited your lunch to the winner. That the right word, Señorita Genius, forfeited?”

  “No. Steal is the right word,” I said, and the others all moaned.

  “Oh, boy. Not even mi padre calls me a thief, and he knows I take some beer and tequila,” Mateo said.

  “That’s probably because he’s given up on you,” I said.

  Mateo’s smile evaporated, as did the smiles on the others. Greg looked at me and smiled with pride.