Después | Oscar Diaz

por tus besos

Oscar decides to take her out for lunch, later that month. He doesn't tell her in advance—shows up with Cesar in the passenger seat, his sunglasses over his eyes and smiling wider than she's seen in a minute.

All her breath whooshes out of her when she sees Cesar. Makes her want to cry, just a little. Last she saw him he was so little, ten years old and still needing someone to take care of him. He's almost unrecognizable, now, taller than her and broader in the shoulders than she expected. When he looks at her she feels—small. A fresh wave of guilt hits her, even if she knows her staying away after the breakup wasn't a choice she was allowed to make.

"Hey," she says, voice fragile even to her own ears, and Cesar just looks at her. Neither of them say anything else.

"Say hi, fool," Oscar finally says, tapping his knuckles against Cesar's shoulder, and then, "get in the back, C, let Claudis sit up front."

Cesar doesn't put up a fight, leaves the door open for her. Claudia comes close, the instinct to take him in her arms again—not that he'd fit the way he did when he was ten—suddenly overwhelming. It doesn't happen, though, the two of them frozen in the split second it takes for her to realize that maybe it's not a good idea. He quirks something like a grin at her, Hi, falling into the air like a half-thought. Climbs in the back without saying anything else and leaving Claudia feeling mareada all over again.

"Hey," Oscar says after she gets in the car, leans over and kisses her hello. She's distracted; returns the kiss with her eyes still half-open, pulls back and grins, self-conscious, at Cesar. He stares resolutely out the window, and part of her is disappointed. Remembers how he used to gag when he'd catch them kissing, or looking at each other a certain way, or just generally being more affectionate than he considered appropriate.

It's like those four years she's been ignoring have finally shown up. She doesn't like the feeling.

Oscar, not getting the memo, says, "'S like old times, huh," and squeezes her hand as they pull away from the curb. Claudia wants to know why it's taken her so long to realize it isn't.

They end up in La Avenida, of all places, a Salvadoran joint they used to order takeout from all the time. The owner recognizes her, smiles widely with gold-edged teeth.

"Y vos dónde estabas?" he asks from behind the counter, and when Claudia grins it feels natural, like no time has passed at all.

"Me fui a estudiar," she tells him, Oscar's fingers still laced with hers, "ahora vivo en Huntington Park."

"Trabajas?"

"Es maestra," Oscar says, nudging her towards a table towards the back, and the owner nods at them, still cheerful as ever, before offering a few menus to Cesar, who's been too quiet the whole ride.

He doesn't say anything when he hands them over, shrugs when Claudia says thank you. She swallows uneasily, tries not to look at Oscar. Scans the menu, instead, even if she already knows she's about to order pupusas; she hasn't made them in a while. Tried to make some for Maite for her birthday once and they didn't come out quite right, not the way they did back when she was still living in Freeridge. Good Salvadoran places are hard to find, besides, and she knows that they know what's up here.

"Whatchu getting?" Oscar asks her, pressed closer to her than is strictly necessary.

"Pupusas," she says, a little amused, "what else would I get?"

He shrugs, grins a little. "Wasn't sure if you switched it up in the last few years. You, Lil' Spooky?"

Something about the nickname makes her want to stiffen; considering how close she is to Oscar, though, that probably isn't a good idea, and she fixes her gaze somewhere over Cesar's ear. He glances from her to Oscar and down to his menu.