cor (n.)
Latin
[A] heart.
_________________
Sometimes, few times, Max resented Ari.
Not initially, or even gradually, but insidiously. He didn't regret his path, loved the subjects he studied, the jobs he earned, the career he chose. Even if he came home smelling of forbidden oils and rare metals, covered in the plant he worked at and dripping with the day he survived, he enjoyed it. No, no, Max did not regret that. But if you were doing it right, no one had nothing to regret.
It was Isabel's fault, really.
He was merely twenty five at the time, a month away from visiting a jeweler and one and half months away from giving said jewel to Ari—although neither knew it at the time—and occupying his night with his cousin's wedding in the halls of The Ebell, Los Angeles. It was as eventful as a Mexican wedding could manage, with El Tío Borrachales on ear-ripping blast throughout the reception hall, the whiskey pungent and sangria tangy, tongues burned from the peppers but bodies fluid for the guitar, polvorones growing stale on glassy plastic plates. He watched the crowds sift and shout and dance from the sidelines, the rum in his hand beginning to taste more bitter than sweet.
Ari had briefly left to find his coat, leaving Max subject to his second cousin, Isabel, and her habit of ruining all things good of his life. Ari promised he'd only be five minutes. But a lot could go wrong in five minutes when it was up to Isabel's ministrations.
"I always thought you and Ana would have made the perfect couple," she said, her breath sweet and sour with sangria. "She's cute, wants to become a doctor, you know. Loves pets. Loves love! You two, tan parecidos."
Max just shrugged, and took a bigger swig of his rum.
Isabel eyed him. "You know, Maxie—"
"Not my name," he muttered.
"—I thought you loved photography. I was so surprised to find out you're some ingeniero. What about that gallery?"
Max shifted. "It's a hobby," he gritted.
"Ah, hobbies! I've seen those photographs. Mira, if you start selling those, push yourself into more galleries, you could go full-time." Her grin was impish, the ends curled tight. "Your novio did it."
He hesitated. The rum swirled in an amber abyss, around and around and around, down down down to the bottom of his glass. The ice had long melted, one with the drink. "Ari wanted to. And I like my work."
She hummed. "Mm, pero, must be hard, no?"
"What? Why?"
"Ay, you know, Maxie, you're better than I could ever be, doing that. I'd get so frustrated knowing I have to work and gruel when I could just be writing fairytales for a living!" she laughed. "But, as long as you love it."
Max stared at her. Then, decided to say, "I'm happy with where I am."
Isabel kept his eye, and when she smiled, it was laced with something like pity. "That's good," she said, and he'd never felt so humiliated.
Ari said, "Hey."
They both turned to him. He held his coat over his arm, eyes blinking blankly up at them through his black bangs. He frowned when he saw Max's face.
YOU ARE READING
And/Of/Or
Cerita Pendek"There's a theory in the world that explains second chances." ----- When a couple goes on a camping trip in a last attempt to fix their broken marriage, they go off trail and end up falling through a seemingly-bottomless hole. Within it, they come t...
