Drown | Ruby da Cherry

7. Roman Aqueduct

May 7th, 2015

Few people had seen my personal writing collection. Carmen, my family, and some professors are the few souls who got to lay eyes on my work. 

You parked your car in the driveway and followed me inside. I had never really been embarrassed about my house before, but I wish I had cleaned up a bit first before inviting you in. We kept it clean, but I don't always have time to pick up Omar's toys or Andres's sports equipment that he always leaves in a pile by the door.

When we moved in, our old house was decrepit and falling apart but had good bones, so my mom and stepdad took it upon themselves to fix it up. They replaced the peeling wallpaper, rotting floorboards, and broken windows, but it had gotten to be too much, so a lot of the needs were left unmet. It needed a bit of love, which I, unfortunately, can't give it. It's not a trap house, but I guess one can only justify broken doorknobs, water damage, and overgrown weeds until it's just making excuses.

Since it was late on a school night, almost everyone was asleep. Carmen was in the kitchen with Omar and her daughter, making a late-night snack before bed. She didn't see us come in since there was only a small line of view from the kitchen to the hallway. All our rooms are next to one another in a small path, so I could clearly see everyone's light was off at least.

I have the smallest room in the house, which is fine since I don't share a room with anyone. Omar and Andres share a room while Mercedes and Isabel share. I took my parent's old room when I moved back, but I used to bunk with Andres before that. Sharing a room with my teenage brother who plays sports but does laundry once a month is about as fun as it sounds.

My room was one area that I was embarrassed by, however. Having a large collection of anime memorabilia isn't exactly endearing to most. In school, I escaped to the world of anime where I could finally feel like I could confront the people who tormented me for Naruto running in the hallway. Even though I've beat all the gym leaders in Emerald, Pearl, and Diamond more times than I can count, I couldn't handle it when a wild MEAN GIRL appeared! I eventually took so many critical hits that, in my sophomore year, I packed up all my Pokémon and Yu-Gi-Oh cards, all my action figures, and other collectibles, even my Lego TIE fighters, just to leave them to rot in the attic. I brought a few of them down when I moved back, but now it was just a selection of my Pokémon cards and a handful of collectibles, like plushies or vinyl figures. But I'm an adult now, so I can handle it...right?

I gently creaked open the door and led him to my desk, where I keep all my art supplies. You sat on the edge of my bed while I dug around, looking for some of my books. You started looking through my Pokémon card collection, making the occasional comment about your favorites. Once I found what I was looking for, I sat next to you.

"This is the first graphic novel thing I ever made," I said, opening the first notebook. It was a short story about a kitten who got lost and her adventures trying to get back home. The second, a class project I didn't get to finish while in New York but worked on over the last year until it was complete, was a retelling of the nativity story I called Maria y Jose, except with a Central American family's exodus and subsequent struggles after arriving in America, which paralleled my family's.

A few years ago, I got really into horror. I was known to constantly be binging horror movies and seeking out any sort of thriller. My favorite horror mangaka is Junji Ito, going as far as to get my hands on every single copy of his works that I could. Since then, I've mainly stuck to horror or at least horror-adjacent, such as the misadventures of my favorite Pokémon.

"Can I borrow this one?" you asked, flipping through Maria y Jose. "I want to actually sit down and read it."

My cheeks flushed bright crimson; nobody's ever asked to see my art like this. As I said, my parents didn't really care for it and, at times, actively discouraged it. Even Carmen, who always pushed me to pursue art, had never asked to sit down and see any of my work.

"It's getting pretty late," you said while I handed you a box with my notebooks. "I should probably be heading home."

You were right. Now, it was 11 o'clock, which isn't super late, but late enough when I have work in the morning. We were still sitting on the edge of my bed as you had the box in one hand and slowly moved your other hand to caress my face before closing the gap between us. Your lips were soft, like rose petals, and I never wanted to let go.

"How-" Carmen's voice came through the door I left slightly ajar, following her bursting through into my room like the Kool-Aid man. "Ohmygod! I'm so sorry! I saw your shoes by the door, um, I'm leaving; Omar's in bed, BYE!"

Carmen raced down the hallway, her footsteps creaking the aging floorboards. You and I just looked at each other and laughed at my best friend's antics. I swear, I live in a sitcom.

"I really should be getting back," you sighed. I walked you to the door, stopping just outside my front door. I closed it behind us, making sure the cat didn't get out. You gave me a quick kiss before saying: "I had a lot of fun tonight...I'll see you later."

"Text me when you get home safe!" I called after you. Once you peeled down the street and I couldn't see you any longer, I went back inside and shut the door. Carmen appeared from the kitchen doorway, giving me that look. My cat twirled around my feet as I stood by the door.

"Spill the tea," Carmen demanded.