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“Mmm, I love bacon,” says Krissa, pulling a bacon strip from the stemmed glass.
“Makes two of us,” adds Jestine, taking a bite of the crispy bacon strip between her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Melida asks me after placing her drink back onto the table.
“Um,” I say, twisting my curls around my index finger with my thumb and middle fingers. I’m nervous for what I’m about to tell them, but I know they’ll support me in my decision. “So, I’ve been seriously thinking about moving. Leaving Boston.”
“What?” Melida and Krissa exclaim at the same time. Jestine’s eyes widen and her mouth is agape.
“I don’t understand,” Melida says. “Why would you leave?”
“I don’t feel safe living in Boston anymore. He’ll never leave me alone and I can’t prove it’s him stalking me, so the cops won’t do anything about it. I’m over it. Besides, I’m loving the Latin culture here in Miami and it’s something I’ve always wanted to immerse myself in.” I lift my glass to my lips.
“I mean, I get it. I think it’s drastic, but I understand,” Krissa says.
“It is. But I can’t keep living in fear, consistently looking over my shoulder. I can’t walk anywhere alone, always need to make sure I’m with someone at all hours of the day. It’s exhausting!” I sigh, and sip at my wine.
“So, you’re moving here?” Jestine asks.
Jestine has striking blue eyes and is the quietest of the group, but don’t let that fool you. She’s feisty when she needs to be, especially since she’s the shorty of the crew, standing at five feet two. Her personality and flashy hair colors even out her introverted side.
“I really like it here in Miami. I think I’d enjoy living here,” I respond, lifting my shoulder.
“It is nice here,” Krissa chimes in.
“I can’t believe you want to move,” Melida says. Her lips are straight, and her eyes are staring into mine as she stretches her hand to grasp mine in hers. “We’ve always been together, lived closed to one another. If you leave, everything will change.”
Melida and I met in second grade when her family moved from Connecticut and into the house a few doors down from mine. We grew up in Newton, the first city outside of Boston, and have been inseparable since. Her family was the only other Latino family in my neighborhood. Because I grew up with a single mom, I would spend a lot of time at Melida’s house. Her parents took me in as one of the family despite having five kids at home. Her father was the father figure I craved my entire childhood, and I loved that he treated me like one of his kids.
“You could always move with me,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.
“I’ll never leave Boston, you know that. I bitch about it all the time but it’s my city, my home.”
“I know,” I confirm, nodding in agreement. “I’ll miss it. Maybe it’ll only be for a short time, a year or two, until things settle down and he’s no longer obsessed with me.”
“That’s it then, you’ve decided?” Krissa asks and sips her drink. Krissa is a little rough around the edges, she’s assertive in everything she does and has a no-nonsense attitude, which is probably why I was kind of scared of her when we were kids when we had the playground incident. Before that incident I never would’ve thought we’d become friends.
“Well, no, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now but only decided on Miami after being here for a few days. I’ll have to look into the logistics and stuff but it’s the first time I’ve been serious about making a change. If I’m being honest, I’m kinda excited about it, even if I’ll miss you bitches.”
“Even more reason to party tonight,” Jestine says, raising her glass. We all raise our glasses, meeting them in the center of the table. In typical Jestine style, she’s the first to accept without reservations and attempts to placate the situation.
“This conversation isn’t over. I need all the details, Sol,” Melida adds, before sipping her drink again.
“You know when I have them, I’ll share,” I reply.
“So, this club we’re going to later, what kind of music is it?” Jestine inquires, always right on cue to change the subject when we need it most.
Although the four of us are all the same age, I didn’t become friends with Jestine and Krissa until the fourth grade when the four of us were in the same class together. Krissa and Jestine were already friends and after the playground incident between Krissa and me, her and Jestine started sitting with Melida and me at lunch. We’ve been a tight circle since, even if I’m closest to Melida, and Jestine and Krissa are inseparable. Remnants from when we were kids, I suppose.
“It’s Latin music. I read positive things about it online so hopefully it’s good,” I respond.
“Yeah, because I dance so well,” Krissa says, sipping her wine.
“None of us know how to salsa but who cares. We’re in Miami and we don’t have many clubs like this at home. Supposedly it’s one of the best dance clubs in Miami,” I add.
“Maybe there will be some sexy as fuck Latin men who will teach us how to dance,” Melida chimes in.
“We can only hope,” adds Jestine. “They’re scarce in Boston, so if we can’t find them in Miami, we’re fucked.”
