Page 16 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

I suddenly remember Sonny’s advice to thank him, and in this moment, that’s exactly what I want to do. I pull out my phone, and not surprisingly, I have no messages. I decide to send Trevor a text:

Cai

I’m with my family in Miami waiting out the storm. I just wanted to take the chance to thank you! Who knows what or who I would’ve missed out on if you hadn’t been such a dick. If Hurricane Olive hadn’t shifted, if I had chased you. If you ever grow up and read these, I hope you’re happy and safe and out of the apartment by next month.

Ok, so maybe I did more than just thank him, but I am feeling petty. My finger hovers over the send button for half a second, considering whether I should push it. But when I hear Abuela and Sonny getting near, I hit send and put my phone away before I can change my mind.

Sonny was laughing, and Abuela was saying something in broken English. “Yes, yes! 89!”

“So, Abuela, Mama says you didn’t want to come to the big house.” Abuela rolls her eyes dramatically.

Sonny’s phone rings, and he raises a hand, excusing himself as he goes to answer it.

I realize, for the first time, that I haven’t asked Sonny about himself. Does he have family around? Were they concerned about the storm? Does he have a wife? Kids? I was such a self-absorbed piece of⁠—

“Que dramática”, Abuela says. Has she been reading my thoughts?! Was she calling me dramatic?

“Huh?” I say.

“Tu Mama!”

“Oh, Mom’s dramatic! Yeah, always. And kinda mean. So you can’t leave me over there with her alone, ok?”

“¡No estás sola! ¡Tienes el Sonny!” (You’re not alone! You have Sonny!)

I feel my face redden. “Sonny is nice, but I barely know him!”

“¿Y que? Yo nunca he conocido al Tracy y no me gusta.” (And what? I’ve never met Tracy and I don’t like him.)

“Abuela, how is it that you remember Sonny’s name after hearing it once, but you can’t ever remember that my boyfriend’s name is Trevor?”

Abuela shrugs as if she doesn’t care, and Sonny comes back in, typing something into his phone before putting it away. “Sorry about that.”

“Everything ok?” I ask, not wanting to pry but to open the door for him to tell me more about his life if he wants.

“Yeah, there’s just this work thing that has a tight deadline, and with the change of plans, I’m having to put out a few fires.” He waves a hand as if it’s not important. “Is it time for this amazing dessert yet?!”

Abuela brightens as if she’s just won an award. “¡Sí!”

She pulled out a huge platter from the fridge. The creamy rice pudding smells like cinnamon and childhood.

“¡Come y me voy a cambiar! Después nos vamos.” (Eat and I’ll go change. Then we can go)

“Okay, but don’t take long. It’s already getting pretty windy out there,” I say, gazing out at the rolling clouds.

Abuela clicks her tongue at the suggestion, then walks to her room to change.

“Should we wait to dig in until we are back at the house?” Sonny asks.

“No way!” I say, grabbing spoons and bowls. “At the big house, we have to share, and it will be Arroz con Leche with a side of guilt!”

“Guilt for eating dessert?”

I shrug. “For eating too much, or too little, or not the right thing. For not being active enough. For not relaxing. For not eating enough protein. For not drinking enough water.”

Sonny is digging in with gusto. “Oh my goodness, this is so good I’d eat it even if it came with a side of disdain!”

It makes me happy to see him enjoying it. “So what’s this project with work all about?” I ask, trying to take an interest in his life for a change.