Grapes Upside Down

38. Sopaipillas

~Madisen~

I send Ignacio seven texts during the colectivo ride home, apologizing for the photo with Noah and desperately trying to make him understand the situation.

Estoy trabajando, te llamo al tiro.

He finally responds as we pull up to our stop, saying he's working but will call me "right away." Despite his use of "al tiro"--one of the most popular Chilean slang expressions, referencing the firing of a gun--I imagine I'll have to wait awhile until his next break.

My breath is shallow as we make our way inside, my nervous system thoroughly unsettled after having upset both Ignacio and Noah tonight.

"¿Qué tal la excursión?" Graciela greets us with an exuberant hug and kiss.

Eduardo re-tells the misadventures of our tour through Valpo, including Noah's near decapitation via electric cable, as the two of us stand there with tense shoulders and pretend smiles plastered over our true emotions. I was so relieved that Noah and I had relaxed around each other, and now we're back to square zero.

More like negative ten, and it's all my fault for being so selfish and careless with my words.

Graciela yells at Eduardo for putting us in harm's way (I think she's mostly joking), then attempts to serve us more food. We manage to convince her that we are stuffed from dinner.

When I finally escape to my bedroom, I lie flat on my back in bed staring at the text exchange with Ignacio. Anxiety is weaving an intricate web inside my stomach. Being in love is not for the feint of heart.

Blood pounds through my temples when Ignacio's call comes through a half-hour later.

"Caperucita Roja," he croons, immediately setting me at ease.

"Are you still mad at me?" I ask, and despite my mess of emotions, there's a flicker of pride inside my chest at the way the Spanish rolls off my tongue these days. Definitely a side-perk of dating a Chilean.

"Geez, Madisen. I'm running my ass off serving food to asshole customers, bummed out because I'm not going to see you at all today, when you send me a text telling me you've been out the whole afternoon with your roommate. The same roommate who has--or had, or has, I don't fucking know--a giant crush on you. And then you send me a selfie of the two of you with your faces pressed up together. What the hell?"

"I know! I have no idea what I was thinking. I'm so sorry! I was telling you about our crazy tour, and then I wanted to share a picture so you could see, and that was the only picture I had, but I didn't think about you being jealous or anything, because Noah is just a friend..."

"I'm not jealous." Ignacio interrupts my rambling. "I just don't know who sends a picture to their boyfriend of themselves on a date with another guy."

"We weren't on a date! My host dad insisted on taking us out. He invites all his exchange students on a special day trip every semester. I didn't have a choice!"

I'm repeating on a desperate loop all of the things that I already told him in the barrage of texts.

"Noah and I don't even talk anymore. He's never around the house."

"Well, that right there should tell you who's jealous."

Tears swell in my eyeballs again. I have never cried so much in my life since beginning to date this man. Perhaps it's a normal side-effect of true love. Or, I simply have no emotional fortitude when it comes to romance.

"That's his problem, if he's jealous!" I exclaim in desperation. Remembering Noah is in the room across the hall, I make a mental note to lower my voice. My priority is fixing things with Ignacio, but I don't want to continue ripping poor Noah's heart to shreds. Even though he, too, has hurt my feelings plenty over the past couple weeks.