Grapes Upside Down

40. Cazuela

~Madisen~

I oversleep the next morning and have to skip washing my hair, which is greasy and smells like the discoteca. My preference would have been to skip breakfast, but that would never fly in Graciela's home.

My stomach is anxious after how the night ended with Ignacio. He has yet to text me, and I feel certain that our relationship is over. The possibility causes me a physical sensation of sinking below the earth, choking on dry, gritty soil as grief saturates my body.

Noah is already devouring a pan con palta sandwich when I gingerly take my seat at the dining table. He has been eating more meals with us again, since our excursion to Pablo Neruda's home with our host dad.

Graciela takes one look at my pale face and disheveled bun, fussing over me by filling up my plate with fruit and leaping up to prepare a special beet and papaya juice. She must think I'm hungover, even though I didn't drink much else once we arrived at the club.

"Come home for lunch today," she urges us in her mother robin chirping cadence of Spanish. "I'll whip up some cazuela while you're at class."

Graciela is an amazing chef, but in this moment I'm so sick of vegetable stews. I just need to talk to Ignacio and find out what made him so angry last night.

Noah keeps stealing glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking. I can tell he is scoping out my mental state. Being in love is turning me into a blubbering, emotionally unstable mess, and it's embarrassing.

Helena releases us from Lituratura a half-hour early so we can have extra time for a research project, and I take the opportunity to call home. Usually, I consult my moms on all my problems--large or small--but since dating Ignacio I seem to only call when I'm in one of my elated, love-struck moods. Today, however, the anxiety is blowing through my body like a hurricane threatening to sweep me off the earth, and I'm desperate for something to ground me.

Hugging Noah last night on the porch felt too good. It made me miss him so much. Our friendship has been on and off the rocks, but with my arms wrapped around his warm torso, I realized I miss the physical part of our relationship. Hugging, snuggling, leaning on him. He makes me feel safe. Is that physical longing a sign of the remnants of unrequited romantic attraction, or is Noah my platonic male safety net?

"Madisen!" Mama Cami calls, answering Mother Jen's phone. Ocean waves and a coastal breeze shuffle in the background. I forgot they were taking a family getaway this week.

"Hey." My smile lacks sparkle, and my voice is weak.

"How are things, sweetheart?"

I offer a generic response, filling my side of the conversation with mundane facts about my classes, the weather and foods I've eaten today. Mama Cami responds with an interested tone of voice, but I can tell from her wandering gaze that she is distracted.

"Sorry, sweetie," she offers when I fall silent. "Just keeping on eye on our dinosaur." She means Eliana.

"No worries. I don't have anything important to tell you."

"Your sister's got a beef with the sea."

"What?" I crack a real grin for the first time today.

"She's just threatened the Pacific Ocean." I snort as Mama Cami reverses the camera angle to frame Elly, stealthily moving closer so I can eavesdrop on my little sister's one-person argument.

"Oh yeah, you water? You think I don't have anything I can throw at you?" she dares, scooping up a wad of beach mud in her palms. Elly juts her hip out to one side, extreme sass radiating from her little body. "Well, actually, I do!"