I do not own West Side Story, or any of its characters.
Before I knew it, two months came and went. It was the last week before we flew to America and I hardly knew if I was ready or not. Of course, I had packed the essentials—clothes, cooking supplies, and the few possessions I had. Nardo had even started learning English. But my life felt like it was spinning past me uncontrollably, and I could not stop even if I wanted to.
I had moved Papá to a hospital as his symptoms grew worse and worse. His pulse had already grown weak and when he coughed his entire body convulsed. Some nights, I would sleep in the hospital—but by "sleep" I really mean that I would lie awake, curled up on a chair, trembling at the thought of his death. It seemed like yesterday that we had both been in a similar situation, waiting, breath held, for Mamá to die. Although it was terrible, I had hoped he would die before I left. It was a selfish wish, I knew…but wouldn't it have been better to be with him when he passed from this world to the next? Now, I knew, I would probably be many, many miles away when he drew his last breath.
To take my mind off of everything, Bernardo invited me to el cine to see a film. Considering that I had never seen one before, I agreed. Besides, Maria was going as well, with a boy her age, so I didn't want disappoint her. I knew she would want me there, and I remembered how awkward a girl's first date can be!
It was a rainy evening when Nardo picked me up from the San Juan Hospital. The windshield wipers of his car struggled to function, wiping away the torrential downpour that had appeared so suddenly. Absently, I smiled at the awkward pair in the back seat—Maria and her friend, nicknamed Chino. Then I ran my fingers through my hair.
"Sorry, I didn't get a chance to go home and wash up," I apologized to Nardo, once I noticed the crisply ironed shirt he was wearing, his cuffs rolled up, and hair lightly greased back.
"If I had known you were going to look nice, for once, I would have made the effort!" I teased.
"Ay, Anita bonita," he cooed, taking my hand, "you always look so beautiful, it's hard for me to compete! So, of course I had to make myself especially guapo for you tonight!"
Chino stifled a laugh. But Nardo didn't seem to notice or care, and neither did I. He squeezed my hand in a comforting way, his face very serious. I smiled, glad for his concern and his humor—simultaneously, they were the best medicine for my ailing spirit.
By the time we reached the theater, the light had almost faded from the grey sky, but the rain continued to pour. The lights were flickering at the ticket booth but, nevertheless, a long line snaked down the cracked, puddle-strewn sidewalk, of people huddled under umbrellas who handed over their coins for a tiny stub that granted them entrance. After we had shuffled our way inside, crammed under Nardo's umbrella, the air instantly became thick and humid as a crowd of wet people milled about the concession stand.
Quietly, I took in the lost splendor of the theater. Nardo had said that, years ago, when films started to gain popularity, this had been the busiest place in all San Juan. Now, however, it had fallen into disarray—cobwebs fluttering from the breeze of fans, the railings missing a few bars, the tile floor cracked and uneven, blotted by flooding. Even the cushions of the seats were worn and indented, speaking of many, many others who had sat in that spot before, and the bright red covering was fading.
Like most things in Puerto Rico, it seemed, the splendor of long before had faded. Everything was broken down and second-best, and yet the theater was vastly over-crowded. We struggled to find some seats discovering, afterwards, that the air conditioning was broken and the ground sticky from previous spills that had been neglected.
"I'll be right back," Nardo said as he shimmied out of the row.
"You'll miss the film!" I exclaimed, catching his hand before he escaped.
"Trust me," he winked.
I rolled my eyes.
"Do you know what happened the last time I trusted you?" I complained.
"Yes," he said with a grin. "You fell in love with me."
I tried to hide a smile but finally just laughed. And as I felt him kiss me on the cheek mischievously before darting off, pushing against the crowd, part of my troubles seemed to leave with him, too.
Nardo returned just as the theater began to grow dark. Even in the dim light of the screen, I could read the glint in his black eyes that said: told you so. I smiled as he juggled four glass bottles of Coca-Cola. The glass was cool with condensation and the bubbly fizz tickled my nose as I drank. Distantly, a memory tugged on my mind—the last time I had a bottle of Coca-Cola was when I was very young…Papá, Mamá, and I had just come from el Catedral on Sunday afternoon and were walking the streets of Viejo San Juan. Papá stopped a vendor and bought us all Coca-Cola, handing the man three coins. Or had it been agua de coco that he had bought? My mind went through a spasm of panic at my inability to recall this detail of my past. How long would it be before I forgot what my parents looked like, sounded like? How long until I forgot them completely?
I hadn't realized my hands were shaking until Bernardo reached over and grabbed them. His touch was warm and familiar. Instantly, I was brought back to the present moment. Roughly wiping away the tears that had prickled in the corner of my eyes, I smiled at him and attempted to turn my attention back to the glowing screen.
The plot was simple and overly-romantic…one of those "star crossed lovers" scenarios, with a predictable ending, so my mind wandered quickly. I liked to watch the people's faces in the audience, their eyes focusing attentively, skin made pale by the glimmering of the projection. Maria, Chino, and Bernardo were all caught up in the spell of the movie, absorbed in the drone of the speakers and oblivious of reality.
Just as I was about to startle Nardo as a bit of a joke, Mother Nature startled us all. With an enormous rumble of thunder, the screen suddenly went black, and the audience gave a collective gasp. A few girls even screamed at the sudden, consuming darkness. I felt Nardo's breath at my ear.
"It's just the storm," he assured me, "the power went out."
"Like I'd be afraid of a little thunder," I grumbled.
But my words were lost amidst the hubbub of panicked and frustrated people. Instantly, the reality of the lack of air conditioning was apparent to everyone and soon a thin layer of perspiration trickled down the back of my neck.
Bernardo tugged my hand.
"Let's get out of here."
I nodded, but then realized he couldn't see me in the dark.
"We'll be on the balcony outside, Maria," he said as we passed his sister. "Keep close by Chino."
I could hear Maria scoff, but by if she gave a response it was drowned out by the buzz of the crowd. With his shoulder, Bernardo pushed open the exit door, sending a sliver of bright light into the theater. The temperature was much more comfortable on the iron balcony, though the rain formed a thick curtain all around.
Bernardo took my hand.
"Thanks for taking me out tonight," I said. "You always take me to the nicest places."
He chuckled.
"Didn't you know I was the one who caused the power to go out? I thought we needed some alone time."
"We do?"
"Who else would cheer you up?"
"Who else, indeed?"
I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lifted me by my waist, sitting me on the rail of the balcony. Raindrops licked the back of my shoulders, so I wrapped my legs around his waist and, letting loose my hair, leaned back into the rain, drenching my chest, face, hair, and arms in the cool, refreshing rain. I wanted nothing more than to wash my worries away, too.
Nardo leaned in, sucking the rain water from my shoulder, my neck, my cheek, and finally, my lips. He tasted like Coca-Cola and sweat—both sweet and salty. Since my heart had ached for so long from loss, I wanted nothing more than to bring Nardo closer; so close that we would never part. So close that I would never feel lonely and vulnerable ever again.
I brought his head nearer, so that the dripping hair would cool his face. With sudden intensity, I unbuttoned his shirt, running my rain-soaked hands along his chest, leaving a trace of goose-bumps in my wake. He shivered slightly but smiled, his hands clutching my calves, pushing higher and higher up my skirt, lightly tracing the inside of my thighs.
I did not think. All I knew was that I wanted his skin on mine. Nothing else mattered, because nothing could hurt me here.
I peeled off my tank-top, kicked off my shoes, and wrapped him closer, tighter. I kissed him feverishly, deeply. Absently, I felt his hand at the clasp of my bra and I felt the heat rise to my face in anticipation. I guided him with my own hand, filled with a new sense of urgency.
But just as I felt the satisfying click as it unfastened, I also heard another sound—the one of the door of the balcony opening. There, in the doorway, blinking as she adjusted to the light, was Maria. Her face turned a deep, deep red as she saw the scene before her. Embarrassed at being caught in a private moment by the little sister of my novio and by my lack of common sense, I immediately pushed Bernardo away and covered myself. Though still in a daze, Bernardo looked at what held my attention and his face turned an identical shade of red.
"Maria!" he exclaimed, angrier than I had ever heard him. "Vete de aqui!"
Mortified, she retreated instantly.
"Bernardo!" I scolded.
I jumped down from the rail, pulling my top on and pushing my hair behind my ears.
"It's not her fault we weren't thinking…"
"Well, then, I never want to think again!"
I gave him a little shove as he buttoned up his shirt. Hand on the door, I paused and turned back.
"Bernardo Núñez, I love you."
"I know," he said, grinning. "And I've always loved you, bonita Anita Josephina."
I returned to the theater, where the movie had resumed, and Nardo joined me moments later.
After the film, I tried to make up for the awkwardness Maria must be feeling as we walked back to the car, the night cool from the fallen rain.
"I'm sorry," I offered. "We should have picked a more private spot."
"It's not that," she said quickly. "Even though I'll never see why anyone would want to date my brother."
She looked up and gave a sheepish smile. I laughed and pulled her close, my arm around her shoulders.
"Ah, la jovensita made a joke!"
Her great brown eyes crinkled in a smile. Then, she grew serious.
"Do you think I'll ever feel like that with Chino?" she asked, glancing back at the narrow-eyed boy who trotted next to Bernardo.
I shrugged.
"I never felt like this about anyone before. But when you know, you know," I advised. "And when you're with them, all your pain just…floats away. Until there is none."
"Well, if anyone deserves to feel that way, it's you," Maria said, kindly.
I said nothing, just squeezed her closer.
"You are my family now," I whispered quietly. "All I will have once we're in América."
"Good!" Maria exclaimed, eyes shining. "I've always wanted a sister."
And, as Nardo held open the door to the car, the mischievous look having returned in his eyes, my future began to look a little brighter…thanks to a little time spent in the dark rain.
Vete de aqui: Go away from here
la jovensita: the young girl