“Category four. Category five. What does it even mean? We thought the hurricane would pass us by as so many did before. A bit of damage. Nothing we couldn’t overcome.” I don’t look at them. I tell this story to the ocean. “The full impact of the storm hit us at 10 a.m. All I can remember is the noise. The rain and the wind sounded like the roar of waves crashing on the roof of our house. Things smashed against our walls. We thought for certain a car would be lifted up and land in our living room.
“Mami and I hid in the bathroom and prayed. Have you ever prayed against nature, against wind and rain? The roof of our house was pulled away as if it were made of feathers. In the blink of an eye, a wall disappeared. We huddled in the bathtub for hours until our neighbors found us.”
No one says a word.
“Why am I here? I’m here because I am unmoored. I keep floating from one city to the next, hoping to find a sense of refuge—a lie I tell myself. My home no longer exists, and safety is a myth.”
I stop talking. If I continue to speak on the hurricane, will my sentences conjure up Ato? Am I inviting him to find me here with these people?
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Penelope says. She places herself smack-dab in the middle of the group so attention steers away from me. “My cousin Eury can live wherever she wants. And if you don’t like it, come catch these hands.”
Her friends laugh at her. The uneasiness shifts in the group. They move on to focus on something else.
Aaron turns the volume up on the radio to a reggaeton tune full of heat and lust. Melaina joins Penelope in the middle of the group. They both dance together. Their movements are innocent at first, then Melaina leads, grinding her hips into Penelope. Seductive moves meant to ensnare.
Penelope eventually sits down beside me, winded.
“I need to take a walk,” I say.
She nods.
“Water break! Who wants more water?” Penelope announces. No one pays attention. Their eyes are glued to Melaina’s curves, except for Pheus. He follows my moves.
“Do you want to leave? I can call us an Uber,” Penelope asks. “This isn’t your scene. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to stay.”
Penelope wants me to fit neatly within her circle. I wish I could. I want to shake this uneasiness. Even in my colorful shorts, I still bring gloom.
“Guess they were expecting a golden island girl and not this pesada from the mountains,” I say.
“Ay, Eury!” She hugs me.
“Yo, wait up.” Pheus and Aaron catch up to us. Aaron pairs up with Penelope. She giggles and teases. I walk ahead. I don’t want to continue being the downer of the party. Pheus walks behind me. I can tell by his posture that he wants to talk. His hands gesture to the bottles of water as he digs deep to find a cold one for me.
“I got you.” Pheus pulls out his wallet and hands the man at the kiosk money.
“Thank you.”
“Sorry to hear about Puerto Rico,” Pheus says. “I remember watching the videos and photos. It seemed unreal. I hope you can find peace in the Bronx with us.”
When he talks, there is a rhythm to his sentences like lyrics with a hint of a promise behind them. Pheus is not beautiful like Ato. He has brown eyes and bushy eyebrows. His hair is in a tight fade. When Pheus smiles his dimples pop, giving him a boyish quality. A sweetness.
“What are you guys doing tomorrow?” he asks.
“No plans that I know of,” I say.
“Well, if you’re up to it, I can take you around the city a bit. We can see other parts.”
I stop walking. Melaina still dances. Her booty shaking. Everyone cheers her on. Yet, the one person who should be her devoted admirer asks me out.
“How would Melaina feel about you playing tourist with me?”
Pheus takes a large sip from his bottle of water. Uses the coldness to cool down the base of his neck.
“Can’t speak for her,” he says. “The thing is, Melaina and I are only friends.”
I chuckle at this. “I don’t make out with my friends.”
“True. True,” he says. “I’m deadass serious, tho. We are not together.”
“Thank you,” I say. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I am not a fool. Pheus is playing a weird game I want no part of. Melaina is with him even if he wants to deny it. He’s heartless to think otherwise. If he so casually treats Melaina like that, how would he treat me?
When we return, there is a conguero playing. His face is rapturous as he stares at Melaina. His hard hands bang on the skin of the drum. Melaina controls his movements with a shake of her hip.
“Why don’t you sing my song?” Melaina yells to Pheus. “What’s the point of bringing your guitar if you are not going to use it?”
The others join in and beg Pheus to perform the song “Melina” by Joan Soriano. Although I don’t add my voice, I do want to hear him sing again.
“I perform when I want to perform,” he says. “Do you see any chains up in here?”
He raises his wrists.
“You’re trifling,” Melaina says. “Can’t you see we’re waiting?”
Pheus refuses to budge. Melaina shoots me an icy glare as if I am controlling his actions.
“I’m going to find another who actually has talent.”
Melaina gathers her two friends and walks away in search of better company.
Penelope nudges me.
“That’s never happened before,” she says. “What did Pheus say to you earlier?”
“Nothing,” I say.
When Melaina is far enough away, Pheus dusts his guitar case and opens it. He strums the guitar with familiar notes. This time, he doesn’t sing the words to “Adore.” Instead Pheus only plays the chords.
The melody drifts around me. What if I allow myself a little bit of this warmth? Is this even possible for a person like me? I lie back down on the blanket. If I strip the noise around me and concentrate only on Pheus, I am transported to another place where no one can hurt me.
I quietly hum the lyrics.
CHAPTER 5
Pheus
Another rush of cop cars careens across the Bronx streets. Now that the fancy new police precinct is up and running nearby, it feels as if the po-po has nothing better to do but round up the innocent all day. Unspoken curfews are implemented every time we simply want to hang. New transplants can feel safe here with us tucked away from sight. Pops mentioned how this happened back in the day when “El Demonio” Giuliani was mayor and wanted to present a clean New York. He says things are once again becoming interesting.
It’s two o’clock in the morning. I haven’t been able to sleep much for the past couple of days. Eury got me up at night translating Prince songs like I’m on a deadline. What is wrong with me? I bodied the song “Adore.” I knew I would. And yet, she’s not paying me no mind. Not really.
The ride in Aaron’s car when we left Orchard was good. I felt we were vibing. She was a little more talkative. Jaysen decided to stay behind, and there was way more room in the back seat.
“You should start with this,” she said, directing me to Prince’s first album, For You. She laughed when I tried to copy Prince’s trademark yell. Then she shook me with this question: