Empty Chairs and Empty Promises

Chapter Fifteen

Marisol smiles at the outfit I chose to wear.

"You look so pretty in your dress, Libby. Maybe I should go and change," she said with a laugh.

"Did I overdo it?" I begin to regret my choice of a flowy cotton sundress and sandals.

"No, no. You look wonderful, and you will fit in perfectly. I will drive to 7 Seas." She leads me down the stairs to the parking lot and stops by a light blue hatchback.

"Where is this 7 Seas?" I ask as we pull out of the parking area.

" It is at el tablado en el parque colon." Seeing the confused look on my face, Marisol continues, "At the Paseo Real Marina in Aguadilla. It is an outdoor bar along the boardwalk with live music or sometimes a DJ. There's always a crowd and good food."

"It's been a long time since I've gone to a bar by myself."

"Ah, but you are not by yourself, you are with friends, right?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you, Marisol. I'm just nervous." I pick at a loose string I notice on my skirt. Recognizing my nervous movements, I relax and gaze out the window as Marisol negotiates the roadways with speed and precision.

This woman impresses me more and more with her confidence. I don't think I've ever been as confident as she is. It is something I've noticed about many of the Latinas I've met or observed in the past few weeks — they appear satisfied with themselves and their actions. Whether they are or not, they project it to the world as if they silently were saying, "I'm a force to be reckoned with."

I wonder what my demeanor and actions say about me. Help me. I'm clueless.  Or, I'm your personal doormat. I chuckle before self-consciously looking at Marisol.

She's smiling at me. "We are going to have a great time tonight, Libby."

I nod in agreement. I think it would be impossible not to have a good time with Marisol. She pulls into a parking lot and finds a spot to pull in. She pats her hair and checks her makeup in the rearview mirror before getting out.

A steady stream of people flows towards the boardwalk which consists of a concrete sidewalk beside a waist-high wall that looks out over the Atlantic Ocean. Up ahead is a small building painted in the colors of the sea and sand. On the side of the building are images of fish swimming, and around the structure are multiple tables with umbrellas.

By the number of people arriving, I'm sure the majority of people will be standing. The sound of music floats on the breeze and I find my stride matches the timing of the beat. Everywhere Marisol waves at passersby calling out greetings in Spanish and engages in playful, rapid-fire conversations with several others.

I absorb it all — the colors of the warm sunset painting everything and everyone with its fiery hues, the chatter, the smiles, the feeling of community and shared experience as the residents of the island gather for fun. There's something palpable about this moment. I feel it on my skin, my heart beats in time to it, and I'm positive if I opened my mouth, I would savor its sweetness on my tongue.

Marisol steers me through the crowd to a table surrounded by the people we are meeting. She introduces to each person and I smile in greeting. The other women include me in their group and speak in English for my benefit. A waitress sets a drink that tastes of coconut in front of me.

"What is it?"

"Pina colada. Do you like it?" Marisol asks.

"Yes, it's a favorite of mine. Thanks!" I sip my drink and learn more about my new friend and her friends. I find myself laughing and giggling along with them.