Down to the Bone (19 page)

I’m feeling pretty damned accepted. I hate to admit it, but Betrayer was right. This beats being thrown out of the house. It keeps a big smile on my lips till I face Tazer. He stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet.

“Let’s have breakfast. Follow me.” Tazer waves his hand. “You too, London.”

London grabs my hand and I allow it. “Show us around,” he asks Tazer. “I’ve never been inside a mansion.”

“All right. Let’s go!”

We follow Tazer through the arched entrance of the coral rock mansion and walk through huge marble columns and carved wooden doors.

The long spacey hall opens into a living room with white marble floors, as large as a skating rink. Light sneaks in through lavender-colored windows. He takes us through a long hallway with tons of mirrors, hanging chandeliers and paintings, then upstairs. “It’s got seven bedrooms. This is the library.”

I look around. The dark wood ceiling, gigantic windows, and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books makes me feel as if I’m inside a cathedral bookstore.

Everyone gasps. “Amazing! Outrageous!”

It’s odd to be standing here, thinking some people live in cardboard boxes under the expressway.

I guess Mami and Pedri might now be living in a villa like this one. Jaime is wealthy. Mami was ecstatic he’d be taking us out of our old neighborhood. I wonder if Jaime is going with her, as I used to, to speak to Pedri’s teachers. Without me there to help him, I’m sure Pedri’s doing poorly in school.

Tazer takes us back down to the dining room. The central air’s temperature is freezing cold. Sulima—the Nicaraguan housekeeper—takes everyone’s backpacks. She places them on the sparkling floor next to an elegant, velvet bone-colored living room couch.

Crystal lamps hang by thin glass chains in different parts of the room, glowing a soft golden color. Bright flowers in glass vases are all around the dining room. The air smells like crushed gardenias. We sit at the table.

Our breakfast is
tortilla de chorizo, pastelitos de queso
and
jugo de naranja.
Sulima—dressed in white from head to toe—brings in fresh loaves of oven-baked Cuban bread that fills the dining room with smells of toasty butter.

There are plenty of Cuban millionaires in Miami. I guess in some ways, Tazer is lucky. This place is gorgeous and I’d live here in a jiffy. But if I had so much money, I wouldn’t spend it on a mansion for two. I’d buy a modest house next to a wildlife reserve as my backyard and build little domes for the homeless. I know Tazer feels the same way, but it’s his dad’s “castle” and there’s nothing he can do about it.

We share a pitcher of
café-con-leche
with condensed milk.

“Breakfast for men!” Che trumpets. “And two gorgeous girls.” He looks to Camila and me, lifts his orange juice glass, and cheers. He’s such a loser, this guy. I think men with little peepers have PMS too: the Peeper Monster Syndrome.

London tries to save the day. He lifts his glass. “Here’s a toast to Jaylene and Shai. I’m psyched you girls are here because you guys are so ugly to look at.” The boys agree.

“Girls and guys should be treated equal,” says George.

I lay it down like I see it. “True equality will happen when straight guys start dressing and acting like girls.” I point to the guys. “Girls picked up all your bad habits like drinking, smoking, hooking up with everyone, going to the gym to get muscles, wearing suits and ties to work, just to be equal. It’s a beautiful thing for butches, kings, FTM trans and genderqueers to dress like guys because that’s how they really feel. But for real equality, you males have got to start dressing in skirts, heels and putting on makeup.”

I cause a real commotion. Everyone gets riled up. Jaylene agrees with me and starts talking feminist politics.

We begin piling food on our plates while talking politics in fast Cuban Spanglish, so El Tigre will understand. Luckily, Jaylene speaks and understands Spanish from having taken courses in school and now in college. Her accent is sexy. I’m going to have to teach her our dialect.

Che fights back about Jaylene hating all men, stamping her as a separatist. She puts him in his place and lets him know she’s a liberal feminist “fighting for the rights of political and economic rights for women.” She says, “Radical feminism understands that men in power rule the world and oppress others . . .”

As she and Che debate, Camila delicately unfolds a napkin and places it on her lap. She sits quietly to eat while the rest of us jump in.

Camila’s pretty. It feels good to think anything I want without being involved with anyone.

Che shrugs in exasperation. He launches a large piece of food into his Alaskan-sized mouth and changes the subject. He kisses his diamond-encrusted gold crucifix. “Thank you, God, for this food, for freedom and for freedom of speech.” He stuffs a stack of food into his mouth, gulps oceans of juice, and burps loudly.

Before I stick another forkful of food in my mouth, I close my eyes and make a wish to Sacred Nature. “I hope the millions of homeless here, and the poor who can’t buy food, get to eat every day.” I take a sip of juice.

Jaylene puts down her fork. “Yeah. And I pray for
real
freedom of speech and freedom for LGBTQIs to marry whomever we wish all over the United States and the entire world.”

With London here, a fake gay cousin Manny, and nobody knowing about my past, I feel courageous to express myself. “That’s for sure. Gay people don’t have the same rights or privileges as straights. Look at all the gay teens committing suicide.”

Che lifts his cruddy index finger in the air. “Let them kill
all
fags!”

We all glare at him. I peer into Che’s eyes. “Why do you hate gay people so much? What have they done to you?”

“Okay, so
don’t
kill them. Stick them all in jail so they can fuck each other. AIDS cures faggots.”

“Man, you’re warped,” El Tigre mumbles in Spanish. With a frustrated look on his face he excuses himself to use the bathroom.

London keeps his cool. “You should try to get to know a gay guy,
mano.
They’re not as bad as you think.” I like that London is intelligent, and a thinker. He stays calm, but I feel all riled up inside.

Tazer wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What are you, in the anti-gay guy Klu Klux Klan movement? Are you an antigay guy Nazi?”

Jaylene grits her teeth. “He’s just a disgusting ignorant idiot.”

Che’s cheeks are a bloody red. He places his glass down. “And what do
you
care about faggots? You’re nothin’ but a confused
gringa bisexual
.” He tears a piece of bread in half, smears it with a truckful of butter, and takes a huge bite out of it.

I swig a sip of sweet
café-con-leche
but it slides down bitter.

Tazer stands next to Che. “Leave my house.”

Che gets up, and just as I think he’s about to slam his fist in Tazer’s face, he grabs his hand and shakes it. “Sorry. I get carried away talking politics. I’m Republican and have strong opinions. That’s what I love about America: freedom of speech. We’re free to speak our mind.” He knows Tazer’s dad’s got our paycheck. That’s why he’s shutting up.

El Tigre comes back looking refreshed, as if he’s splashed cold water on his face. The tension got released and nobody became violent. Jaylene doesn’t hold her tongue. She starts in about attending an all-women festival where thousands of female musicians eighteen and over pitch tents and, for two weeks, live in the woods together. “I get to play my djembe on stage with my Afro Cuban percussion band, Cunga. Well . . . I mean, obviously I’m ‘beige,’ but they’re girls of color and play like a dream. We kick ass.”

I’m wondering what it would feel like to be surrounded only by girls for a week, listening to music, talking, playing instruments, painting, taking workshops, swimming in rivers, until she says, “We feel so free without men around some of us get naked.”

My thoughts crash into each other. That’s definitely a place I couldn’t visit. I’m way too shy about my body.

When Che gets up to use the bathroom, Jaylene starts gesticulating and capturing his distinctive speech, body movements, voice and quirks in a highly exaggerated way. We laugh.

The one good thing about Tazer having stood up to Che is that he’s kept his beak shut.

Before you know it, we’re done with breakfast and with
casquitos de guayaba
dessert made with guava and cream cheese.

Tazer smiles. “Let me show you guys something before you get back to slaving.”

We follow him up the marble staircase that leads into the third-floor terrace. You can see the waterfalls we made cascading into a pond we installed in the backyard. There’s a stone path with swaying tropical fruit trees, coral rock gardens, a grotto, arches for climbing roses and a pond with large koi fish, just as I sketched it for Marco.

“Woah! We did
that
?” Camila slaps her cheek, not believing her eyes.

We stare at the beauty of what we built, in silent awe.

I check my watch. “Time to get back to work!” I clap my hands. “Last one down’s a rotten mango!” In a fury, I’m running down the stairs and everyone’s following.

We get downstairs, and I bid farewell to London. “I’m glad you came by.” Now that I know he’s honest about his apology, I like and respect him more.

“I’ll call you soon.” I wave goodbye and he takes off.

Tazer yells to me from his bedroom window, “Shai, come here a sec!”

I dash upstairs to the second floor and find him leaning against the door of his bedroom with arms crossed over his chest. He walks into his empty bedroom, which is being remodeled, and I follow. The chartreuse-colored walls reek of fresh paint. Intense music from my ancient classic Doors CD leaks in from the boom box downstairs.

I stare out the window to see the crew taking shovels full of mulch and throwing it by the palm island. Jaylene is whistling up a storm.

“She met a really hot babe last night, Rosa. Jay’s in heaven.”

“I can tell.”

Tazer squints and puts on a grave expression. “Look, I know you got thrown out of school for Marlena’s texts. You know how word spreads in Miami. I never told you so you wouldn’t feel so bad about lying to me about ‘Mario,’ the Betrayer.”

I feel heat climbing up from my heels to my head. Memories of the Incident fill my brain. I’m nervous he’ll tell London and everyone here, and the good times the crew and I have had at work will end exactly as they did in high school.

He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “So if you’re also into girls, and I totally get you, why can’t you be honest with me? If we’re supposed to be friends, why do you keep lying to me like that?”

I swallow hard a bunch of times as I scan the empty walls. I tap my foot on the shiny wooden floor and it echoes around the room. “I’m sorry I lied and have kept important parts of my life from you. It’s just too hard to talk about some things, especially because if I change my life, my mother will accept me back.” I can’t believe the whole world knows about why I got kicked out of school. No one really knows it’s because I didn’t tell on Marlena. Soon, the crew and London will find out too.

“But I thought we were friends. Are you just pre
ten
ding to be my friend?”

“We
are
friends. I’m really sorry,” I repeat. “Please forgive me, Tazer, and don’t tell the crew about Marlena and me. My mom hates me now and I’ve got to keep it on the down low. And don’t tell Jaylene, either. Please. I’m not ready to tell anyone.”

I explain in full horrific detail everything I went through. I hope he won’t start spreading the word. Just when my life takes a good spin, something happens to make it chaotic.

“It’s too bad about what happened to you. If you don’t want to tell Jaylene, that’s fine with me. But you could’ve talked to me about what went down. I’m your friend, you know. I would’ve understood.”

“It’s just that I’ve never even
liked
any other girl but Marlena, until recently.” I don’t say it’s Gisela, even though I’m sure he knows. “I’m in a lot of pain. My mom doesn’t care about me any more and is keeping me from my little brother. Even though Marlena dumped me and got married, if I tell on her, my mom will notify Marco first, then fly to Puerto Rico to talk to her parents and husband, Rick, personally. Then, she’ll force me to leave this job. Marlena’s mom and mine were friends. She won’t want me associating with anyone who has anything to do with her. Honestly, it will ruin Marlena’s life and my job which I desperately need. I can’t do that to Marlena and to myself. If I want to live a great, happy life, I should never fall in love with a girl again.” I look into his eyes. “They’re trouble for me and my mom will never accept me. And besides, didn’t you see what a commotion London and I caused when they found out we had kissed? I like being treated with respect, instead of the way Che treats Jaylene.”

“Respect?” He juts his nose in the direction of the crew. “I hate to tell you, but no matter what the crew says, I doubt they’ll ever respect you, except for Jaylene. None of them spoke up when Che said such an atrocity. They’re probably all conservatives. And Che is nuts. All that loathing. And he’s wearing a crucifix. Jesus would die if he saw such shit. That’s not what he was about.” He peers into my eyes. “You’re going to let
jerks
rule your life?”

“No. It’s not about anyone but my mom.”

“What mother terrifies a child into not being who they are? What kind of mom throws a daughter out of their house for having a girlfriend?”

He’s so right. It’s all about fear and ignorance. But it’s so easy for him to say. He never had a neurotic homophobic mom. And his dad doesn’t give three royal monkey pubes about his life. Tazer can come and go and do whatever he pleases. His dad doesn’t even know or care who Tazer’s friends are.

As if slapped in the face, I have a realization. I’ve never felt this strongly about anything. London is my savior. Is it so wrong to want peace and acceptance with my mom
and
society and also want my family back?