Antes | Oscar Diaz

may.

there should be stars for great wars
like ours. there ought to be awards
and plenty of champagne for the survivors.
(sandra cisneros, one last poem for richard)

"Where you staying now, Claudis?"

"Araceli's letting me crash with her," Claudia says. They're sitting at Sonic's, eating burgers that Oscar wouldn't let her pay for. She ordered extra fries and a large milkshake to spite him, except now it means they're sharing, and every time their fingers brush she can't help but smile.

Oscar chews on the straw thoughtfully. She looks at him pointedly, rolls her eyes when all he does is grin. He says, instead of apologizing, "We never did anything for your birthday. Or for graduation."

"Does today not count?" she asks, motioning between the two of them with a sandwich in hand. She punctuates it by taking a massive bite, returning his unimpressed stare.

"This ain't a real restaurant," he says, because of course that's what's important here.

They haven't seen each other in two weeks—the start of summer always means there's more bullshit than usual in Freeridge, and Claudia had finals and then graduation to worry about, besides the whole aging out thing. She's never been more grateful for being a May baby. She somehow managed to split her focus between school and figuring everything else out evenly, meaning she didn't get anything below a B to finish out her high school career and packed her meager belongings without any help from her foster parents. Moved out on a Tuesday and slept at whatever shelter would let her stay for a few days before finally sucking it up and heading to the church Father Carlos was in charge of. Stayed there until Araceli came through.

The only reason she's even staying with her is because her folks left for Mexico a few days after graduation, after they threw their only daughter a graduation party. Her parents don't much like Salvis, even if Araceli stays arguing with them over it. Her brother lives over in Riverside, where he's been in manufacturing for years. A lot of their folks are down in Mexicali, and every summer and winter finds their folks leaving for a few weeks to see them. Araceli's taking summer courses, though, which means she gets the house to herself. By extension, Claudia has until July 1st to find a place to live and stack the money she needs to pay for it. She's not totally sure she's going to manage it, but on the flipside—

"You know you can just stay with me, right?" Oscar says, instead of arguing with her over celebrating her graduation. He's real proud of her, for a lot of reasons, not least of which being that he dropped out the first month of junior year. He likes to joke it's the only time he and his mother have ever agreed on anything. Claudia doesn't find it half as funny as he does.

The issue of her moving in is a bit more touchy. She's not a stranger to crashing at his place, did so plenty of times even before Penelope Diaz left. Spent most of winter and spring break with him, even, hanging out with Cesar while Oscar was out doing whatever Santo business needed to get done. She knows what kind of business it is, but for her own sanity she ignores most of it. It's a little harder, now that Oscar has that massive cross inked across his neck, but. She kind of likes the way it looks, not that she'll admit it. (The number of times she's bitten him there, mid-coitus, since it healed is an obvious enough clue.)

But moving into a known Santo meeting spot? Worse, being a woman there? Claudia hasn't admitted it to Oscar, but she's pretty sure only crackheads and kids who have no other option would want to stay around fulltime. Unfortunately she's one of the latter right now. Something tells her, too, that moving in only long enough to save up for an apartment might go over badly. Fact of the matter is, though, that she needs her own space. Doesn't matter if it's with a couple roommates. Had a few foster homes, and even when her mom was still alive they apartment hopped more often than not. It's been almost six years to the day since she died. Claudia wonders, every day, if she's in a spot her mom would be proud of.