Model Ricans

Marga's Dad

On Friday I am at Pops's house.

He takes me out for a spin in his new truck, which is a stick shift, unlike the Hyundai.

"You know how to drive stick?"

"Uh, no, I literally just started driving your Hyundai."

He jumps out of the driver's seat, runs around the front of the car and pushes me out of the passenger side.

"Just make sure you pop out the clutch after shifting," says Pops as I excitedly turn the steering wheel straight into a curb and almost lose control. "Sweet Jesus, you tryin to kill me?" Pops can barely stop laughing. It's the most fun we've had in a while.

When we park in front of the beach, Pops gets serious and quiet. "Listen, hon – I want to apologize for how depressed I was after your mom left."

"Oh, Pops, you don't have to apologize, I completely understand. Valeria is...a hard person...to deal with. I love her, she's my mom, but she's just..."

"She has her bright moments," says Pops, smiling and tearing up a little bit, before wiping his eyes and saying quickly, "but now I'm marrying Sally. I want us to hang out this weekend while you're visiting. If that's OK with you."

I can't stop smiling. I grab Pops around his head with a hug so tight I can barely contain the tears welling out of my own eyes. "I'm so happy for you!"

It's all so exciting as we drive to Sally's house and she seems so happy because she smiles all the time for no particular reason. She says things like, "Hey, Marga, how'd I get so lucky to meet your Pops?" Sally's arm finds its way around Pops's waist and squeezes. And then I find myself hugging the shit out of her. She is making Pops happy again. I stare at Sally's pretty, long black hair and long flowing dress.

When we are sitting to eat, and Pops is playing music again like he used to in Vieques before everything changed, I think about how weird it is that some people's garbage is another person's treasure. "Just like I got the Hyundai – Sally got Pops – not that I'm comparing Pops to a Hyundai," I say and we all laugh.

"Well, Sally is like the new truck for me," says Pops.

"Oh babe, don't be so suggestive in front of your daughter."

I can't stop laughing. "It's OK, I can take it. I mean, the Hyundai for me is mobility. Freedom to go from one house to another on my own terms. And a place to get hit on, incidentally!"

Pops laughs. "Oh yeah? Boys are finally noticing the beauty you are, inside and out?"

"I'm not even used to getting hit on at the library while trying to study." I notice how easy it is to confess these things in front of Sally, even though she is a stranger.

Maybe it's because Sally's all ears, unlike Desiree and Valeria.

Sally is more like Tia. "If your hotness is new it can be distracting. All the eyeballs," she says, seeming to understand what I'm experiencing.

"Ya. It's like one day I went from invisible to being Desiree. Ever since I grew out my hair, that's just how it is."

"Who is Desiree?" asks Sally.

I don't answer right away. The question hits me between the eyes, and suddenly I feel anxious. Sally notices.

Puts her hand out on the table, offering to hold mine. I look up at her and then at Dad. "No one," I reply, thinking about the fact that she became invisible to me until I saw her smiling and shining at the pool. Pops doesn't know about Desiree either way, so I change the subject to Sally's colorful interior décor, and segue into a tour of her house and listen to stories about bowling, bike riding, and swimming at the beach until it's time for me to drive home on Sunday morning. "Be careful," says Pops, hugging me.

When I pull away, I find myself saying out loud, "Do you think Blanke is like every other guy?"

"Hunny, you won't know unless you talk to him," says Pops. "Is he in high school?"

"I don't know. Either way, if I learned anything from Desiree, it's to stay away from boys. High school boys, especially. They are not to be trusted."

"Honey, who is Desiree? You mentioned her the other night and it got a little weird when Sally asked who she is."

I smile and hug Dad through the car window. "I'll tell you next time I visit," and then I'm off, driving back to Orlando on State Road 50. Not a ton of traffic. Music blaring. Deee-lite. Runaway. Makes me think of Desiree trying to dress like Lady Miss Kier. Maybe I should call her. But I just don't want to be part of her messes anymore so I drive to the address Blanke gave me.