Remember This Part

8. Happy 75th Birthday

Alex.

I'm already chopping plantains at my grandmother's apartment when Thea texts me. Abuela is in the kitchen, too, because she insisted on cooking the chicken herself despite my protests (we dispute this every year on her birthday, and every year, she wins). I stop chopping to look down at my phone.

Thea: Hey. So, I think I can go to the party after all. Is it too late to change my mind?

"Alex, are you looking at one of those mee-mees again?" Abuela asks.

I roll my eyes and reply, "I know you know the correct pronunciation." She smiles smugly to herself.

"I know, but sometimes I like to pretend that I'm just a silly old woman," she tells me.

"You are a silly old woman," I say with a laugh. She scowls at me, and I add, "A very silly, very beautiful old woman."

She pats my cheek and says, "That's better."

"Abuelita," I begin, glancing back down at the notification on my lockscreen. "I just realized there's something I forgot to pick up. Would it be okay if I made a quick errand?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Forgetting something? That's not like you at all, poor nene," she teases. "Well, go on, then. I'm sure Felisa will be here soon. She can help with the plantains."

"Thank you, Abuelita, I'll make it up to you," I say, sending a quick reply to Thea.

Me: Not too late. I can pick you up.

"You already have, a hundred times over," Abuela tells me. I smile at her and peck her lightly on the cheek.

"I won't be gone long. Bye."

I feel completely guilty about leaving my grandmother to do the work for her own birthday party, but I know she'd be thrilled to have Thea here. It'll be the last little surprise for the evening.

Fortunately (possibly unfortunately), Abuela was right about Felisa. She's already standing outside by the time I get downstairs, waiting to be buzzed in.

"Ah, Alex," she greets me. "I'm glad you're here. It's much too cold for an old woman to be out here." Felisa never pushes hard enough on the buzzer, and then she claims that we're all too hard of hearing and that it's our fault. But there's no point in arguing with. She's been one of my grandmother's best friends for almost a decade, and like all of my grandmother's friends, she is who she is and won't do a thing about it. 

"And where are you going? Your grandmother's party starts in twenty minutes!" Felisa adds indignantly.

"Head on upstairs, Felisa," I say. "I'll be back soon." She makes a disgruntled noise as I open the door for her, but she bustles inside to get out of the October wind. My phone vibrates with another incoming text.

Thea: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I live in Mills. Do you know where that is?

Me: Yeah. I can be there in about fifteen minutes. That ok?

Thea: Sounds good. I'll be down by the door :)

Me: Sure. I'll text you when I get there.

I get into the front seat of my car and pull out of the parking lot. My music connects to the car's speakers and starts playing some Spanish rap, and it gets me wondering about what kind of stuff Thea might listen to. Do I have any songs she'd like?

Ah, dammit.

I focus on the road ahead to keep myself from thinking about the small amount of excitement I felt when I saw her name light up my screen. But of course, I catch myself thinking about it anyway. It's disconcerting, to say the least. I know I can't date her. My grandmother likes her. And worse than that, I think I might like her, just as a person. And I don't want to date someone that I like as a person. She's sweet and funny, the type of girl who could become a friend if we spent enough time with each other. And you can't just date someone who you're also friends with. Don't believe the false accounts—that's an inevitable relationship. Some kind of one, at least.