Trouble

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Alejo blinked a couple of times, his pupils shrinking as his eyes got adjusted to the sunlight. It was clear that, even though it was nearly six at night, Alejo had still been sleeping, judging from the pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips, messed-up hair, and lack of shirt.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Alejo let out a sigh and asked, “¿Qué? Sol, you’re going to have to spell things out for me.”

I groaned good-naturedly before explaining, “I was playing fútbol with Marisol and Claudia in the front yard earlier today, and a certain white guy showed up when we were about to go inside. Know anything about that?”

I had almost expected Alejo to deny it, but instead, he burst out laughing. “Oh, Soledad, me conoces demasiado bien. Come in.”

I stepped into his quaint home as directed, shutting the heavy front door behind me. Toys were strewn around the living room floor from his younger sister Isabel, and I almost stepped on something that looked like a Lego block on about as much steroids as Barry Bonds.

“Want a beer?” Alejo questioned as he finished his journey to the kitchen, while I plopped down on his couch, making myself comfortable.

“No, I have work after this. But thanks.” I put my hands behind the back of the couch and propped my feet up on the coffee table.

Alejo took his sweet time flicking the cover off the bottle and making his way back to the living room. “So you have the night shift tonight, huh?” he asked as he settled down on the couch next to me.

“Yeah,” I replied. “But enough changing the subject. What happened with Liam?”

“Is that the gringo’s name?” He chuckled. “That poor kid. He walked into a bar that me and some guys were hanging at after Cristobal let us go last night, and he was going up to anyone who looked Mexican, talking real slow-like, ‘Do you happen to know Vete a la mierda?’”

“Ay, Dios,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose as hard as I could to keep from bursting out laughing. I could just see the clueless, innocent, wide-eyed look on his face as he went around asking that question to a bunch of people who actually knew what it meant.

“So I finally just said, ‘Ay, gringo,’ and waved him over to our table. I asked him who he was looking for, and he said the same thing to me as he had to the other guys.

“I figured that it was a chick from the dreamy look in his eyes, so I asked him to describe her, and he started characterizing you with creepy accuracy. Querida, that boy’s already got you memorized. Every single detail.”

“What did you do after you realized it was me?”

“Told him what ‘vete a la mierda’ meant and told him not to say it again unless he wanted to get the shit beaten out of him. Then I told him where you lived and when he could find you before saying that he should probably go back to his hotel and wait until daylight, since Mexicanos could be pretty defensive about intruders in their ‘hood.”

I stayed quiet for a long time before asking, “What’s wrong with you, Alejo?”

“What? Did you not like the guy?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “No, I like him fine, I guess. I mean, he could have put my ass on the line last night, but everything worked out for the best. But my point is that we have known each other since we were niños. Why would you betray my trust and tell him where I lived?”

Alejo took a swig from the beer bottle before letting out a long sigh. I was just about to compliment his lung capacity when he answered, “You said it best. We’ve known each since we were little. And I can tell that you’re not happy.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him, ready to argue that I was happy. I had everything in the world that I needed. My sisters were incredible, I loved my job.

“Don’t give me that look,” Alejo laughed. “You know what I mean. There’s no way that you’re…” as conspicuously as possible, he glanced down at my scrunched-up body before bringing his gaze back up to my face, “satisfied.”

My stomach churned at his suggestion, and I thought for a second about pouring his beer over his head and storming out of the house. But deep down, I knew he was simply trying, in his own twisted way, to help right something he believed was wrong with me. Something that I wasn’t willing to admit to myself was wrong.

So instead of shooting him down, I made a joke out of it. “And you think some gringo is going to satisfy me?”

“Well, he’s gonna have to do, since you won’t take me,” Alejo joked. “Maybe he’ll help you realize what you’re really missing.”

I swallowed my awkwardness and got to my feet. “Well, your little plan didn’t work. He just wants to be friends.”

“Friends, my ass,” he stated simply. “That boy’s not looking for a friend. He’s looking to get in your pants. He’s just playing the game. Mark my words.”

“If you say so,” I allowed, walking toward the door. “But if he wants sex, he came to the wrong girl.”

“Ah, all work and no play makes Jane a dull girl.”

“I think I’m pretty fun,” I argued. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter. He just wants to be friends, and that’s how it’s going to stay, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Just wait.” Alejo reached over and put his hands on my shoulders, his eyes as serious as a heart attack, so intense that they seemed to bore through my soul. “One night, you guys are going to be up late…maybe you guys have had some beers or something stronger to drink. And you’re going to be friendly, talking, chatting, having a good time. He’s going to lean in, and you’re going to be kissing him before you know it. And kissing’s going to lead to something more, and you’re going to find yourself on your back, on the couch or the floor, trying as hard as you can not to scream so your sisters don’t know.”

“Alejandro!” I scolded, slapping him on the arm as hard as I could. “Get your head out of the gutter."

He winced and rubbed just under his shoulder, where I’d clobbered him. “Lo siento. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I scoffed and crossed my arms in front of me.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine. Look, I have to get to work, okay?”

“Alright,” he answered, narrowing his eyes at me. Clearly, he didn’t believe a word I said. Not that I cared. Because it was none of his fucking business. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

Without another word, I stormed out of his house and slammed the door shut behind me.

The wind stirred my hair as I made my way down the slowly darkening street. My bottom lip wedged itself between my teeth, and I knew I was causing harm to it, since I could taste the blood in my mouth, but I didn’t have the willpower to stop. There was no other way to vent my frustrations, my irritations, my anger. My discomfort.

The walking helped me calm down some and made the images that Alejo had put into my mind disappear. Dios, sometimes, that boy just made it too difficult to love him.

When I arrived at the pier, my usual spot for selling, I got straight to business. Customers expressed how they’d missed me the night before, wondered where I was, hoped I was alright. A couple said they hated my replacement and thought he was rude.

I chatted, staying friendly while keeping a businesslike demeanor, and assured them that I was fine. Perfectly fine.

And after a while, my mind was completely focused on making sure people didn’t gyp me while they tried to make small talk about what was happening in their lives and what was happening in mine.

Underneath it all, drugs or not, we were all just the same.