Page 40 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

I let out a short laugh. “I hate being patient.”

“So does Cayetana,” Carlos says with a small smile. “That’s why she’s in this mess with men. She wants to be married now, in love now, playing house now. So she keeps choosing Mr. Right Now instead of waiting for Mr. Right.”

I want to be Mr. Right, but I’m not even being Mr. Honest. I need to fix that.

Carlos stands quietly beside me, both of us staring up at the eye’s impossible beauty. The moonlit circle of calm feels almost sacred, like the world has paused just long enough for us to catch our breath.

A whoosh of sparking yellow-green lights floats on a soft breeze. It is the same beetles I’d seen inside earlier, but several of them, moving in a way that, for a moment, I think their goal is to further decorate the splendor for us.

“¡Mira eso!” Carlos says in awe.

“¿Cocuyos, right?”

Carlos smiles at me. “There’s a poet who wrote a book called The Prince of the Cocuyos. He, like many Cubans, felt Cocuyos symbolize our heritage and, I think, the struggle with cultural identity. Funny, how a little thing can hold all of that meaning.”

This isn’t real. This is a dream, an experience created in virtual reality. The beauty of being surrounded by hundreds of glowing nostalgia bugs in the heart of a storm is beyond my comprehension.

“I wish Cai were here,” I say aloud.

Carlos sighs and says, “I think that same thing all the time. I know it’s selfish to want all your children to stay with you forever, and I’m more fortunate than most. Still, I miss her.”

After a long moment, the cocuyos move on, or maybe back into hiding, and Carlos claps me on the shoulder. “Come on, mijo. The second half will be here soon. We should get back inside before the wind picks up again.”

I nod, reluctant to leave the strange peace outside. As we step back through the front door, the protective darkness of the house wraps around us once more. The lantern light in the living room flickers softly. The storm will be picking up soon, but for now, the house is a cocoon; safe, warm, and full of life.

Carlos gives me one last knowing look before heading toward the kitchen. “Remember what I said. Si tiene que ser, será.”

I sit on the couch, lean my head back, and close my eyes, drawing on the image of the night sky I’d just seen. It calmed my thoughts, and I pushed out all the thoughts of Cai’s full thighs, sparkling eyes, soft lips, and gentle teasing. I am determined to think rationally about Cai.

CAI

I wake up alone.

The bed is only a twin, but it feels empty and too cold. For a disorienting second, I think the whole night has been a dream; the closet, the dark, Sonny’s hands on me, the way I had almost let go of everything. The faint smell of ginger and citrus is still on the sheets beside me, however, and my skin remembers exactly where he had touched me.

He left.

The thought hits hard. Had I gone too far? Had my guilt ruined the moment so badly he couldn’t even stay beside me? Or worse, had he finally realized I’m too much of a mess to deal with? Had he finally reached the point every other man I’ve dated reaches, where they get tired of me?

I sit up, heart pounding, and reach for the flashlight on the nightstand. The house feels calm even after what must’ve been a few hours of being beaten by the storm. We must be in the eye.

I need to find Sonny.

I open the door and almost run into my dad, no doubt on his way back to his room.

“Papa, have you seen Sonny?”

“¿Dime, mija, es que has estado con tantos sapos que no reconoces un buen pescado fresco?” (Tell me, have you dated so many toads that you don’t recognize a fresh fish?)

“You haven’t even met Trevor or my other boyfriends to know how they were…” I shift uncomfortably.

Why does everyone feel the need to offer their own opinion on my love life? It is confusing enough with just me in my head.

My dad leans forward and kisses my forehead. “I don’t need to know them; I know who you became with them. Sonny’s in the living room.” He pats my arm affectionately and adds. “Si lo dejas pa’ mañana, mañana viene alguien con mejor vista. Buenas noches, mi amor.” (If you save what you have to enjoy tomorrow, someone who appreciates it may take it before tomorrow. Good night, my love.)

With that enigmatic final thought hanging in the air between us, my dad makes his way down the hall, and I go to find Sonny.

I can hear snoring as I walk past several of the bedrooms on my way to the living room. It seems that everyone is getting rest, not just the house.