Page 26 of American Love Story

“Do I even want to know?” I asked, as I ushered them inside.

“Just trying to talk some sense into him.” I raised an eyebrow, because with Camilo that could mean anything, since he freely told us what to do about pretty much every aspect of our lives.

He rolled his eyes at the puzzled look on my face. “Priscilla.” Oh. No wonder Juan Pablo wasn’t talking.

I was going to tell Camilo to leave him alone when the doorbell rang again. I opened the door and found Camilo’s mom, Dinorah, and Juanpa’s parents, each holding a dish of something. My mom jumped up as soon as she saw them.

“Finally, I thought I was going to have to sit and hear these three fight all night,” she said as she passed Camilo, Juanpa, and me, delivering double kisses to them as she went.

After the routine hellos, which with a mix of Caribbean people and J’s Italian mom, took some time, we all went in and started helping get dinner on the table.

“Odette, this smells amazing,” Camilo exclaimed as he brought out the gigantic bowl of soup Joumou. I was just remembering I’d promised Easton a photo when my pocket buzzed.

I still haven’t gotten any feast photos. You already forget about me, Professor?

Why did my stomach have to dip like that whenever I saw a text from Easton?

I saw Camilo looking at me from the other side of the table and quickly shoved the phone in my pocket. I’d gotten enough from him about Easton last night when we had dinner at Juanpa’s.

We got our bowls of soup and sat around my mom’s dining table. It felt so good to be around my people. Nesto was missing though, and that hurt a little bit. Now that I was up in Ithaca, we’d reconnected again and it made me miss the times when it was the four of us against the world. When I’d finally found friends who looked at me and truly saw me.

I thought about Easton and the ease with which I could talk to him about my life. I couldn’t believe I told him about my dad. That was something I rarely ever discussed.

“Damn bruh, where’s your head right now?” I snapped my head up to see J looking at me with bemusement.

“Nothing. Just thinking about all the shit I need to do for my class.”

Neither of them looked like they believed me, but I didn’t want to get into Easton right now. I was still trying to figure out how I felt about him. I’d been struck by his honesty of being unsure of what to do about the stops and his desire to help. Ofcourse, it could all be lip service, but it seemed like he was at least trying.

Thankfully, Camilo changed the subject.

“How’s it going with Ari? I forgot to ask about it when I saw you before. I’m so glad you’re doing that, P.” I smiled at that, because I was glad, too.

I grimaced thinking about what Nesto told me about Ari’s uncle. “Honestly, I still haven’t gotten a chance to really sit down and talk with him. I lifted a hand to appease Camilo’s stank face. “Chill, I made plans to meet him as soon as I get back to town.” I wasn’t going to drag my feet on this. I couldn’t control or fix some of the shit that was going on in Ithaca, but I could step up and support Ari.

“Between the move and his schedule, we haven’t been able to make time.” I sighed, remembering what Nesto told me the night I moved in. “It seems like his uncle’s making trouble for him about his immigration and—” I cringed thinking of his plans to come out “—things have been pretty serious with him and Yin. Nesto’s worried if he comes out, that will make things much worse.”

Camilo and J both looked horrified. Milo was the first one to talk. “Oh my god. That is not okay. After poor Ari spent all that time in an immigration detention center. You’d think he’d earned his chance to fall in love and act like a normal twenty-two-year-old.”

“I know that’s right.” It was rare to hear Juanpa give an opinion about things or people he didn’t know too well, but Ari has grown on all of us. He certainly deserved some peace.

“His first few years here were not easy. I hope that between Nesto, Jude, and I, we can make sure he at least feels more supported. It’s not like he’s not trying either. I’ve never seen anyone with more hustle.”

Camilo put a hand on my shoulder, his gray eyes a little sad. “You’ll be good for him; you get where he’s at.” I nodded, remembering the tension of those first few months in the U.S. when my mom and I had no idea how we were going to stay here. The desperation of not knowing. So many nights I’d woken up and found my mom crying in bed. Our first year here, we’d lived with friends or friends of friends as our asylum case was evaluated. On people’s foldout couches or on a mattress on the floor. The money my dad had given her to come to the States kept in a secret place for when we landed somewhere that felt safe to put down roots.

It wasn’t until we finally got to New York City and my mom connected with an old friend of my grandmother’s that things started looking better. But that first year in Florida almost broke her. I wondered what Easton would think about it if I told him everything, all the things my mother had to do to make sure we didn’t end up on the street.

“Dude, you wild intense tonight. More than usual, and that’s saying a lot,” Juanpa again.

Camilo smirked as he picked up a spoonful of soup. “He’s thinking about his man.”

I thoroughly ignored that and changed the subject. “You assholes still want to see a movie afterwards?”

Juanpa nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. “Yeah man. We’ll go to the place by me. It’s got a full bar and kitchen, bruh. We can order beer.”

“Ignoring my true statement doesn’t make you less thirsty for Easton,” Camilo muttered, at least he was considerate enough to not get my mother’s attention.

I shamelessly ignored Camilo again and turned to Juanpa. “Sounds good man.”