I post about today’s success on Insta, then start scrolling. Jamal posted recently, and I go to his profile, curious about how he’s doing in New Mexico. I immediately recognize the Rover courtyard in the background of a recent picture. Taken yesterday! He’s in town!
I wonder how long he’ll be visiting for. If he doesn’t come over to say hi, I’ll drag him to the house myself. Suddenly a light bulb goes off in my head.
If Jamal comes over as my fake boyfriend, I might be able to reverse all the damage I did with my dad. If I send him a video of me and my “boyfriend,” maybe he’ll just forget about this whole gay thing.
I was wrong about wanting my dad to know. It’s not worth it. Coming out to him was a mistake, but it’s one I can fix. I call Jamal to see if he’ll come over to take a video with me.
“Yami?” Jamal answers, sounding surprised.
“Hey, fake boyfriend, I need a favor.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. How long are you in town for?” I ask eagerly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Before you leave, can you come over sometime and take a video with me? To send to my dad.”
“Leave where? And, um, are you sure Cesar would be okay with that?” Jamal asks.
“Back to New Mexico? You’re staying with your cousin, right?” I say slowly, second-guessing my entire life. What is going on? “Why wouldn’t Cesar be okay with it?”
“New Mexico? Yami, I’m staying with my cousin in Phoenix. Cesar and I . . . we broke up. . . .” His voice cracks a little. “He didn’t tell you?”
I open my mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a tiny croak. He most definitely did not tell me. Jamal never even left the state. I finally manage to choke out an apology, then hang up and go to Cesar’s room. He’s doing homework on his bed. He doesn’t look up at me until I sit next to him.
“So . . . um, how are you?” I ask. I give him a look that is supposed to psychically tell him to just open up to me about what happened with Jamal.
“Good?” He squints at me. I squint back.
“What happened with you and Jamal?” I get to the point. If I don’t, I’ll grow a frickin’ beard before we’re done dancing in circles. I’m fully prepared to break our “only ask once” rule, but he actually gives me a straight answer.
“We broke up.” He says it like it’s no big deal.
“What? Why?” The whole day at the mercado and he didn’t let on once. How freaking clueless can I be?
“Don’t worry, you can still use him as your fake boyfriend.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic.
“Are you okay, though?”
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” He always does this. And I’m never prepared for him to turn it around on me. Let’s see how he likes it when I double-whammy him.
“I’m fine, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, are you okay?” he asks again, grinning. We could go back and forth like this for ages. Maybe if I open up a little, it’ll encourage him to open up, too?
“Have you heard from Dad?” I ask.
“Yeah, he sent me a video this morning, but I haven’t watched it yet.”
“Pull it up.” I scoot closer so I can look at his phone over his shoulder.
Cesar opens the Marco Polo app and plays the video from Dad. Seeing his face makes me want to cry, I miss him so much.
“Hola, Peke! I gotta show you something.” My dad is the only one Cesar lets call him “Peke,” short for peque?o, because Cesar has always been short for his age, and skipping a grade makes him seem even smaller. The camera moves to face a lake in the middle of a plaza. He zooms in on a brown duck with a bunch of fuzz on its head. He’s laughing. The camera goes back to his face. “Do you remember Canela? Doesn’t she look just like her? I thought you might like that.” He keeps laughing, and the video ends.