Camilo lifted an eyebrow at that. “Homesick?”
I gestured toward the doors that led to another greenhouse. “They have a lot of trees that are indigenous to the DR here.”
He perked up at that, nodding at all the plants I was pointing to. “That makes sense, my mom loved tearing off pieces of the Bay Rum leaves whenever we came here. She said it reminded her of her mom.”
I smiled at that, because that smell also brought up memories for me. “My grandma always had a bottle of rubbing alcohol with Bay Rum leaves in it. Anytime any of us fell down, she would soak a cloth with it and make us press it to the bruise.”
Camilo sighed wistfully at my memory. He curled into himself a little bit as if he was getting chilled, and the impulse to put my arm around him had me almost vibrating. We walked a bit more, looking around the trees and plants of my childhood, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be here with him.
“How did it go with your mom?” I asked while he inspected a cacao tree.
His shoulders tensed at the question, but after a moment, he answered in a low voice. “It was fine. It wasn’t anything major, she just didn’t want to go alone.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I didn’t want to pry or ask for more details, since it was clear to me this was not an easy topic for him. I was going to leave it there, when Camilo spoke again.
“My mom has depression and anxiety. She knows she needs help with it, but the stigma around mental illness she grew up with is still an issue. She feels embarrassed to seek out help.” His face was a study in frustration, his lush full lips flattened as we started walking again. “I mean if it were me, she’d be begging me to do whatever it took to feel okay, but since it’s for her, she finds every reason not to do it.”
I nodded in understanding. “My dad struggled with depression a lot.”
“From the war?” Camilo’s voice was gentle and so understanding. In the last ten years, my life had changed so much that I rarely met anyone new, who I didn’t approach with caution. The men that came into my life were usually the ones doing the pursuing and I rarely ever took them up on it. Andyet here I was with this man who I barely knew but could feel already getting into my blood.
I wanted to tell Camilo all my secrets.
When I spoke, he turned from what he’d been looking at and focused completely on me. “Yeah. My mom talked my dad into seeing someone and taking what he needed in order to feel better. He has his ups and downs, but he’s been able to cope. Going to a therapist isn’t exactly considered ‘normal’ in the DR, but my mom has always been a bit counterculture.”
“She sounds awesome.” A warmth spread to my chest when he said that and I remembered my mom’s words from the other night. Was this feeling the certainty she told me about?
“She is.” I stopped then, noticing a tree I hadn’t seen before.
Camilo stood next to me and bent over to look at it more closely. “What is it?”
I pointed to a cluster of green fruits that looked like tiny pickles hanging from the trunks.
“I’m not sure what they’re called in other countries, but in the DR they’re called vinagrillos. We had one in our backyard growing up. They’re really sour, thus the vinegar related name,” I said, my lips almost puckering from the memory of biting into one. “We used to do contests to see who could eat the most without puking.” I grinned at his horrified look. “I haven’t eaten one in at least fifteen years, but I can totally remember the taste.”
Camilo eyes softened and his lips tipped up into a tiny smile. “I like hearing your DR stories.”
“I like sharing them with you.” I sounded winded. So many feelings I thought no longer applied to me.
We were quiet for a second looking around before starting for the next part of the exhibit. After a few steps I noticed that Camilo had stayed behind. When I turned around I saw him hurrying toward me with something in his hand. When he gotto me, he gestured behind an enormous palm tree, extending his hand once we were hidden.
“Here.”
When he opened it, I saw a green vinagrillo in his palm, and my face broke into another grin.
“I didn’t steal it. This one fell to the ground,” he said in a tight voice.
I tried to lighten the mood and teased him a bit. “Those looked pretty green,” I said, lifting an eyebrow in question.
“Okay, maybe I gave it a little nudge.” He looked so flustered, like he had no idea why he’d done it.
I put my palm over his, touching him for the first time in what felt like forever. Our hands brushed as I took the fruit and we both shivered from the contact. Here, hidden from view, the moment felt very intimate.
“Thank you.”
He shrugged again, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. This mattered. “Try it.”
I brought it up to my mouth and bit into it, it was too sour and familiar. I closed my eyes as I chewed.
