“I wasn’t even in there to leave anything today. . . .”
“Hmm. Okay, then say you had a nightmare and you need her to hold you so you can sleep. And boom. You’re cuddling.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, I’m officially not taking your advice.”
Bo opens the door, and I reflexively throw my phone across the room as if it would somehow destroy the evidence that I was just talking about her. It scares Gregory off the bed, and Cesar and I both might have broken phones now. Bo stands in the doorway, laughing.
“Sorry, wasn’t trying to scare you.” She walks toward my phone and picks it up. “Luckily, it’s not broken.”
I can hear Cesar shouting through the phone from here. “IS THAT HER? YAMI, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!”
I leap out of bed and grab my phone from Bo. “Okay, bye, Cesar. Good night!” I hang up and let out an awkward laugh. “Sorry, ignore my brother, please.”
“Okay . . . um, I came to see if my other shoe was in here. I think Gregory took it.”
“Oh,” I say as I check under the bed for the missing shoe. I try to ignore Cesar’s voice in my head, telling me she’s using an excuse not too far off from the one he gave me. There’s no shoe under the bed. I hold my breath as if it will slow down my rapid heart rate. Will I get to see how Cesar’s plan would have worked out from the other side of things?
“Hmm, I’ll check downstairs,” Bo says, and she leaves. I blow out my breath and fall back onto the bed. I guess she wasn’t making an excuse to spend time with me, since she left right after not finding her shoe. I wonder how Cesar’s plan would have ended if I actually did go into Bo’s room looking for something that wasn’t there. Was I supposed to just be like, Oh, yeah, looks like my phone isn’t in here. But hey, let’s cuddle! It . . . wouldn’t work.
With Cesar giving me bad advice about dating, I’m just glad things are back to normal. Knowing he wasn’t actually mad at me makes me even more homesick. As though he senses it, Gregory hops back on the bed with me and gives me all the cuddles I need.
When the date of the festival rolls around, I start to get nervous. I know it’s for fun, but I kind of feel naked right now. Just going there will give Bo and her parents clues about my culture and upbringing. Revealing my layers isn’t always wise. People are happy with the parts of me they can be comfortable with, but I can’t be too brown or too gay or too anything I am to my core. It’s exhausting. I know Bo and her family can handle my gay. Obviously, since Bo is gay, it wouldn’t be an issue. Her parents are great. But I don’t want to find out they’re not as great as I thought. Like maybe they’re afraid of big loud groups of Mexicans or something.
We get to the festival, and Bo’s parents are two of only a handful of white people. And for once, it’s not my turn to be uncomfortable. I’m with my people now. It’s not that I want them to be uncomfortable. Actually, I really don’t want them to be uncomfortable. I’m just sick of being the one to shoulder the un-comfortability of every situation so other people can feel like everything is normal. This is my normal.
Everyone is smiling right now, and I can breathe. It’s not like I need their approval, but it’s nice to see Bo and her parents enjoying themselves. After everything they’ve done for me, I want to give something back. I want them to fall in love with the colors and the music and the clothes and the dancing the way I did when I was little.
I used to do baile folklórico. My mom signed me up when I was little, and I still regret quitting to this day. I don’t think I was any good at it, but I was five, so no one was. I always felt so beautiful tapping my feet and swinging my skirt around my waist. That was how I learned to stand straight and smile and look presentable, which ironically is why some people used to tell me I “act white.” But the people who taught me to dance are the same people who taught me about the cultures of our Indigenous ancestors.