Guests

Let's Go To Egypt!

"Look what I have!" Kay exclaims as she bursts into my bedroom, shouting, leaving me with my heart in my mouth.

"Girl! You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days!"

I should seriously consider taking her key away and stop inviting her to spend the night if I don't want to end up in the emergency room.

"Your interview in StrongHer!" She shows me the magazine in her hands, with my photo on the cover. I analyze it, and now I don't like it as much as when I took them. Well, what can you do? I don't look that bad either. "I had a hard time finding it. It's sold out in several newsstands nearby."

"Really?"

Lately, print magazines don't usually sell all their copies. The abundance of free information on the internet and social media has dealt a blow to the print media. I'm glad that at least StrongHer is selling well.

I was very embarrassed to open up like that in the interview, but Juliana Otegui, the magazine's editor whom I've known since my early days in this world, made me feel so comfortable and secure that it was impossible not to talk. I hope that girls, young women, and adults can learn from my experience. I don't want anyone to have to go through something like this if it can be avoided.

"Yes, yes. And look: you're a trending topic on Twitter!"

I grab her phone and see that my name appears in a couple of hashtags: #AthenaStrongHer and #AthenaDiaz, with hundreds of thousands of tweets using them. Since I broke up with the other idiot, I'm not that popular anymore. I'm tempted to see what they're saying, but there are things that humans are better off ignoring. At least I don't want to start the day by having a breakfast of crude or inconsiderate comments from anyone.

"I hope that besides the magazine, you've brought me a delicious breakfast if you want me to forgive you for waking me up shouting. But none of that English Breakfast, well... now that I think about it, something like that wouldn't be bad."

"Seriously, darling, it's insulting that you doubt me. We've known each other for a decade, and I've never invaded your home without taking care of an English-style breakfast."

I jump out of bed, put on a robe, and hurry to the dining room. On the dining table, I see everything prepared: tablecloths, cups, glasses, cutlery, napkins, scented candles; and a feast waiting for me: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, Cumberland sausages, roasted tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, baked beans, toasted bread with butter and jam, coffee, and a pitcher of orange juice.

"I could marry you!" I exclaim as I see everything so well organized. "Is it from The Fitz?"

"Of course. You know they're delighted to fulfill our wishes."

"It's a lot of food for just the two of us."

"Don't worry, Chris Pratt is on his way to have breakfast with us."

I laugh. I can't help it. Her crush on Chris is eternal and undoubtedly futile.

"I swear, if I ever come across him, I'll ask him to have breakfast with us."

"Girl, the invitation is for dinner, and I'll take care of the dessert."

"I think you'd wet yourself if I brought him. You wouldn't even be able to say hello."

"You're partially right. I wouldn't be able to say anything, not because I'd be overwhelmed, but because I'd kidnap him and take him to my house, and there... Whew! I'm getting hot just thinking about it."

How long have I allowed myself to miss out on these moments? This freedom to talk, to feel, to desire—I wouldn't trade it for anything. Laughing with Kay's risqué comments and not feeling guilty for imagining the situation is worth a lifetime.