Page 66 of Mutual Discord

Leading me farther into the room, Alex held both my hands in his, his gaze locked on mine, as we both started the merengue march, our hips and feet moving to the beat. Alex looked comfortable and at ease with the steps, and Lord knew I could watch his hips sway all day long. I was so busy watching him move that I was caught off guard when Alex pulled me toward him, spun me around, and whipped me back again, stretching our arms high over our heads in a circle. I couldn’t fight the grin that spread across my cheeks, especially when Alex smiled back at me. Then he grabbed my left hand as he brought me flush against his chest. Staring up at him, I laughed.

Alex led me into a spin, his arm and body curling around my back, before he spun me out. His hand kept a tight hold on mine the entire time.

I don’t know how much time elapsed of Alex spinning me about, our feet moving forward and back, left to right to the beat, our laughs mingling as we came together over and over. We were so focused on each other, it took me a long moment to realize my mother had brought us to a stop.

“Ay bendito, why didn’t you tell us you could dance so well?” Mamí asked, planting a hand on her hip.

“I told Sofia, but she didn’t believe me.” Alex’s dimple flashed as he glanced at me. “So I had to show her.”

My whole body went hot, and I dipped my head to hide my embarrassment.

“Well, come show me if you can dance salsa,” Mamí said as Celia Cruz’s “La Vida es un Carnaval” started playing through the speaker. “And you, nena, go finish assembling the pasteles.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I grumbled, scowling. “Alex is supposed to help me. He’s learning.”

“Alex is supposed to be learning more about his culture. But he can also do that by dancing with me,” Mamí said, patting the back of his hand.

“I always listen to my elders.” Alex lifted a shoulder, not at all apologetic. “I’ll come help you in a moment.”

“Javi will, too,” Mamí said. Turning to where my brother was chatting with Olivia, she called, “Go help your sister, mi hijo.”

Despite his loud complaints, Javi joined me at the kitchen table, where he accepted the filled plantain leaves and expertly folded them into the parchment paper before handing them to Olivia, who tied two pasteles together with string. I watched Alex and Mamí dance about the living room, and it was obvious he was just as comfortable dancing salsa as he was merengue. The pain of what I could not have twisted uncomfortably in my chest. I had become used to wanting, often ignoring it or explaining it away. But sometimes, like now, as I watched Alex exchange a laugh with my mom, it felt like a poison I would never find the antidote for.

When the song ended, Alex came to sit next to me at the table, helping fill the remaining plantain leaves and handing them to Javi. We didn’t speak, and I was afraid that if I tried to, my bitterness would bleed into my words. Instead we worked side by side, listening to Javi’s inane comments with Olivia. Soon Mamí brought us each a glass of coquito, and the creamy alcoholic drink quickly erased the starch from my spine, and I felt at ease enough to laugh and joke with my family.

As the afternoon bled into evening, I excused myself to change. Nochebuena—my first with Alex—was too special to celebrate in my jeans, chunky cardigan, and mules. Instead, I slipped into a fire-engine-red jumpsuit with an off-the-shoulder bodice. Aiming for “more is best” with my curls, they cascaded about my shoulders and face in wild abandon, held back by two strategically placed bobby pins. While the family liked to dress up a bit more than usual for Nochebuena, my outfit was markedly dressier than anything I had worn in the past. And I could tell my family noted the difference because my mother exclaimed in delight while my father kissed my hand before spinning me in a circle. I pretended to ignore the raised-brows look Javi and Olivia exchanged, which was easy to do when Alex approached me, stars in his eyes.

“Wow, Sofia, you look stunning—”

The doorbell chimed, and anything Alex intended to say next was lost in the cacophony of the arrival of my Tío Alejandro, Tití Sara, and their family. My father’s youngest brother, my tío, and his wife lived in San Diego with their children, and although it wasn’t an insignificant drive from southern California to southern Arizona, it was manageable, and we had spent many a Nochebuena in their cozy Kensington home.

To no one’s surprise, my tití Sara and my twin cousins, Gianna and Andrea, were particularly taken with Alex. Their questions came fast and furious: How old are you? Why aren’t you spending the holidays with your family? What do you do for work? What part of Puerto Rico is your family from? Alex handled their questions with aplomb, answering some with detail and others succinctly, the only sign of his discomfort the flush on his cheeks. After he flashed me a Help me look, I asked loudly if it was time for dinner. Thankfully, it was.

Alex sat on my left at the table as the family managed to stop talking long enough for Papí to offer a blessing in Spanish, immediately ratcheting up the noise again as everyone served themselves from the platters of food laid out across the sideboard and temporary tables my parents had constructed. Along with the pasteles, there was red beans and yellow rice, fried tostones, alcapurrias, beef-and-pork-filled empanadillas, and a big salad with sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, and wedges of cheddar my mother insisted everyone take a serving from. Alex followed directly behind me as we made our way down the line through the selections, whispering questions every so often. Overall, though, Alex recognized the majority of the dishes and filled his plate high in a way that showed he was eating with his eyes and not his stomach.

After supper had concluded and the tables had been cleared and the kitchen cleaned, the real Nochebuena celebration began. My cousin Roman connected his phone to the speaker, proclaiming himself the deejay for the night. Soon I was bobbing my head to an eclectic mix of Bad Bunny, Karol G, Maluma, and Motown hits from the Four Tops and the Drifters. Papí pulled out a forty-eight card deck, and Tío Alejandro, Javi, and Alex joined him to play a game of pinochle. When Alex confessed he had never played the game before, the other men laughed, and their good-natured jests were loud and boisterous. My gaze returned to the sight of Alex’s dimple, and I soaked in his deep, throaty laugh again and again.

“Nena, are you sure that man is only a friend?”

I yanked back my head, my gaze colliding with Tití Sara’s. A quick glance around the table showed my mother, Olivia, Paola, Andrea, and Gianna staring back at me with their brows raised. Although none of them voiced it, it was obvious they wanted to know the answer, too.

Picking up my glass, I spun my mojito about so forcefully an ice cube fell out onto the table. “Alex and I are just friends. Did you forget he’s dating Caitlin?”

Olivia crinkled her nose. “But are they dating? I take no pleasure in agreeing with Javi, but why wouldn’t he want to spend Christmas with her?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. And I didn’t want to know. I hadn’t asked because I was happy Alex was spending the holiday with me, and that was good enough.

“That boy doesn’t look at you like a friend.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” I shot Mamí a glare.

My mother’s answering snort made me grind my teeth. “It means that he looks at you with hearts in his eyes.”

“Ay, Mamí, don’t exaggerate,” I grumbled, even as my chest was so tight it threatened to crack open. “I promise we’re just friends. And because Alex is determined to connect with his boricua roots, I’m a great friend to have, because look at all of you,” I added with a chuckle.

No one laughed with me.

The refreshingly sweet-and-sour mojito slipped down my throat as I took a sip, and I tried again. “He’s dating Caitlin. Have you met her?” Tití Sara and my cousins shook their heads. “Well, she’s beautiful. All golden-blond hair, aquamarine eyes, and legs for days. And she’s super successful and accomplished.” I sat my glass on the table harder than I intended. “And she’s funny and kind and thoughtful, and Alex is lucky to be with such an amazing woman.”