The weeks went by with such remarkable ease. My father loved Bernardo at once, which made me glad; I felt guilty to escape with Bernardo and forget about our crumbling house with broken tiles and forget about my father's weary eyes and ever-growing stoop. Though I often regret it, escape I did, and the worst part is, it was the happiest time of my life.

The happiness began not long after our first date, when Bernardo surprised me, driving up to the fruit stand in his slightly dented car. Leaping out of the vehicle like a caballero coming off of his stallion, he strode up to me with a knowing grin on his face.

"I can't take her out much," he said, motioning to the car as I took off my smock. "The owners of it must be looking for me!"

"Then what are you doing here, chico?" I asked, trying to keep the obvious joy from my voice.

"I bought some pasteles. I thoughtwe could eat them at the beach before the sun sets!"

He took my hand and tugged me towards him playfully. I pushed away only slightly.

"No puedo ir, I can't go…Not yet, I'm working!" I insisted as he kept tugging. "You forget that some of us earn our living!"

"Por favor, Anita bonita, just this once. Who would want to buy fruit at five in the evening?" he wheedled, swinging my hand in his.

I couldn't resist those eyes!

"All right!" I laughed, closing up the stand. I held up a warning finger. "Just this once, Bernardo."

"Si, si, querida," he promised hoping back into the driver's seat.

As I struggled to open the passenger's door I wondered why I agreed to join him. Was it that I enjoyed the exhilaration of his spontaneity? Or was it really the danger of my own recklessness? After all, I could be fired. Perhaps I'd never know.

"Here we go!" Bernardo exclaimed, breaking me from my thoughts as he started the sputtering engine.

Arm leaning over the side of the convertible, the wind pulsed through my hair as we made our way down the bumpy cobblestone streets, out of the grayness of my neighborhood, past the churches and beautiful, pale colors of Viejo San Juan, and down the long road to El Condado, lined with palm trees. As he drove, full of confidence with one hand on the wheel and another slipped around my shoulders, we didn't speak. Instead, we smiled for the pure bliss of the moment—of the warm sun and sweet-smelling pasteles. Of being with each other. We did not need words; our smiles summed up our feeling.

The car came to a shuddering halt on an anonymous side-street. Glancing up, I could see the sun shining its rays through the various clothing laid out to dry, flapping slightly in the breeze. As Bernardo jumped from the car with boundless energy, scooping up the box of pasteles in one hand and draping a blanket over his arm, I peered between buildings and noticed the vast sea. How long had it been since I'd come to la playa, the beach, for leisure? I do not think I ever had! Bernardo held the door open for me and as soon as I had stepped onto the hot pavement, he took off jogging towards the beach.

I laughed outright at his over-enthusiasm and struggled to keep up with him as he darted down an alley, eyes fixed towards his destination.

"Slow down, Bernardo Núñez!" I said between excited breaths, in an almost scolding tone.

"I know just the way!" he called over his shoulder. "To the good beach, the one with plenty of shade and a calm tide, the one where the tourists, los Americanos, vacation to!"

"Well, we could go there more slowly! You are not wearing a dress!"

"You'll have to catch me!" he called.

Smiling firmly, I hiked up my skirts, kicked off my shoes, and set to chase him.

As I began to gain ground, Bernardo looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened at my speed. His body squirmed forward, like a child in a game of tag, and he leapt over the curb and over the dunes of sand. Laughing, I followed suit. Soon, we were both running, but for a different reason. The sand was incredibly hot! Choking with laughter, we nearly tripped over our own feet heading for the water, sighing in relief when the cool waves lapped over our bare feet.

I looked over at Bernardo, his hair tousled and layered slightly with the dust of kicked up sand. It was then, amidst ocean spray and sand, that he leaned down to kiss me—a kiss of pure joy. For a moment, it was only us; I scarcely can recall any noise or feeling other than Bernardo, and when he pulled away I hungered for more. Slowly, I looked up and saw my own reflection in the pools of his eyes and we smiled as we caught our breaths. Then, almost shameless under the suspicious eyes of the tourists, Bernardo unexpectedly bent down and scooped me into his arms. Yelling exclamations back and forth he sprinted over the sand until, at last, we were safe in the shade of a few palm trees. He collapsed to the ground and I tumbled from his grasp, my chest heaving with more laughter.

Panting heavily and giving a breathy smile, Bernardo untied the string on the box of the pasteles, and grasped a gooey, delicious looking one, holding it in the air.

"Spoils of victory," he panted.

I reached in and grabbed one, too, though I coated it with a bit of sand.

"Salud," I announced, pressing my pastel against his. "To your health."

After having our own little brindis, toast, we munched on our tasty treats in silence as the sun set and cast a warm glow over the beach. Bernardo leaned forward, attempted to lick the honey off my fingers. I didn't even attempt to stop him.

He was the first to break the silence.

"So," he said between chews, "I talked to my father."

Instantly alert, I swallowed and fixed my attention on him. "And?"

He gave a charming smile, knowing I was in suspense.

"He wants to give you a job!"

"¡Que suerte! Gracias, Nardo," I exclaimed, throwing my arms around his neck.

"There's only one condition…"

"And that is?"

"You must come meet him, and the rest of my family, at dinner tonight."

The excitement in me halted, lurching to a stop like an old vehicle.

"Ay, Nardo…" My sticky fingers twisted around each other, searching for the right way to decline. I couldn't leave my father in our dark little house while I was off eating a full meal. I couldn't.

Bernardo's eyes were pleading. "Everything's arranged Anita bonita, please say yes!"

"But my Papi, I cannot leave him," I finally blurted, feeling a bit ungrateful.

Bernardo stood up, brushing the sand from his clothing. He offered me his hand.

"I have a car¿recuerdas? We can pick up your father on the way to my home!"

My smile grew wide, and I felt like glowing like the sun. He knew I could join him now. Picking up the towel and empty box we strode arm in arm over the dunes and back to the alley where his coche was parked, just as the sun vanished beneath the waves.


Spanish translations:

bonita : beautiful, pretty

salud:cheers!

que suerte: what luck

recuerdas: remember