Chapter 2ish

Author's Note:

Hey guys! I tried working on several things with this section, mainly involving characterization, relationships between different characters and voice. My main concern is how the Spanish and English flow together, so if something doesn't make sense or gets annoying regarding Spanglish please let me know. I included more scenes with Olivia so hopefully y'all can get a better sense of who she is and how she interacts with others. I also included more of Abuela Linda and introduced Axel. I tend to struggle a lot when it comes to "emotional" scenes and I try really hard not to make them sappy and overly dramatic. That said, if at any point it feels like you're reading the print version of The Bachelor or Bachelorette please let me know so that I can either quit life as a writer or make the necessary edits. All criticism is welcome and encouraged!
Enjoy!

Chapter 3

            “Oli, you should go outside and get some air,” says Abuela Linda.

I’ve been in my room reading and occasionally sticking my finger in the fish tank that’s sitting on my bedside table. The small blue fish rushes to the surface to nibble on my fingertip every time. It kind of tickles.   

            “I’m busy,” I say as I tuck my dark brown curls behind my ear. From the corner of my eye I can see Abue’s light flickering, annoyed. I sigh and put my book down, turning to look at her.

            “You can read outside,” she says floating closer to me.

            “Yeah, but I can also read inside,” I reply as I look back down at my book. I grab it and grandma drifts towards my nightstand.  

She hovers over the small fishbowl before darting across my room and disappearing through my window. I sigh, putting my book back down. I look at the pathetic little fish floating in its bowl. Its fins are moving but it remains in the same place, close to the surface. I get up, put on some flip-flops, and grab my purse that’s hanging from my desk chair. I’m walking out of my room when I stop to grab my phone that’s sitting next to the tank. I slide my phone in my pocket and I’ve already reached my door when I double back and grab the fish tank, closing the door behind me.

***

            “You can’t tell Mom,” I say to Abuela Linda.

We’re sitting in my small yellow car waiting for the order of fries and the sundae that I just ordered. Abuela Linda is glowing excitedly from the center console. She loves car rides. I look down at the passenger leg space where the fish tank is sitting. The water is sloshing along the smooth edges of the tank, fighting the Saran wrap that I tightly placed over the tank’s mouth to prevent water from spilling all over my car.

I finally get my order, but not without having the cashier give me a funny look after spotting my fishy passenger. I place the fries and sundae in my cup holder before driving off.

“¿A donde vamos?” asks Abuela Linda.

“I don’t really know,” I say as I grab a fry and dip it in the sundae.

I’ve worked my way through half of the order of fries when I realize that I’ve been driving without paying much attention at all to where I’m going.

“I think we’re lost,” I tell Abuela Linda. We’ve been driving on small back roads and forgotten highways across the Sonoran Desert for about forty minutes.

“Ay, mi hija.”

“You didn’t say anything so I thought you knew where we were,” I say.

We drive a few more miles into the desert before I decide to make a U turn. We drive without talking for a while, the radio playing softly in the background as the desert sand and vegetation stream by.  

“I’m sorry about Capri,” she says, breaking the silence.

I nod my head and keep strumming my fingers against the steering wheel as we drive along.

“It must be hard. Not having your friend while others like me get to Splinter and—“

“Abuela, por favor.”

“I’m just saying—“

I reach over and crank the music as loud as I can, trying to block her voice from my head.

“Olivia, stop.”

I see her light glow before it dissolves in the air, leaving a wispy trail behind.

I don’t know how long I’ve been driving but my leftover sundae is completely melted and the remaining fries are cold and soggy. The beautiful desert light continues to stream in through my car windows, like those old movie projectors. I glance down at the fast food scraps and at the lapping fish water and that’s when I feel the itch behind my eyes. The one that makes them water. I blink madly, trying to scare the tears away, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Capri?” I ask in my head. 

I wait, holding my breath.

I finally breathe in again, the back of my eyes stinging.

“Capri?” I ask out loud.     

I wait, holding in my breath.

Nothing.

***

“Cementerio Viejo Paraiso” reads the green exit sign. I take a deep breath before switching on my blinker and getting on Exit 36. I follow the weathered signs until I reach the wrought iron archway that marks the entrance to the cemetery. Since I was last here several weeks ago both metallic A’s have been stolen from the large lettering. I make my way into the cemetery, following the winding gravel road until I reach the parking lot. I   park the small yellow car and unbuckle my seatbelt. I take a deep breath before getting out of the car and walking over to the passenger seat, bending down to grab the fish tank and precariously placing it on the yellow roof. I grab the leftover fries and sundae and shut the car door. I grab the fish tank off the car and tuck it under my free arm before making my way to Capri’s barren grave.

It is very fitting, and depressing, that the Lost’s final resting place is itself lost. I’m the only one walking down one of several narrow cobblestone pathways, passing row after row of headstones and plaques scattered on the desert sand. I hobble along, fish and food in tow until I get to the rows designated for last names starting with R. I go down the path until I find Gloria Ramos’ grave. A few lots from hers I find Capri. I stop on my tracks, facing the small bronze plaque.

Capri Ramos

May 16, 1998-June 8, 2015

~

            That’s it.

Just a name and a date.

I take a deep breath before kneeling down in front of the plaque, putting the fish and the soggy food on either side of it.

I sit there, not entirely sure of what to do now. I have never done this before, or heard of anyone visiting someone here.

I remove the Saran wrap from the fish tank and stick my pinky finger in. The blue fish rises to the surface, nibbling on my finger.

“Háblale, mi hija.” Talk to her.

Abuela Linda’s voice takes me by surprise and I jump, nearly knocking over the melted sundae.

“Abuela!” I yell surprised, balancing the sundae and preventing a sweet disaster from taking place.

“Talk to her, Oli.”

“How?” I ask, turning to look at the glowing orb.

“Like this,” she says.

“Its not the same, she’s—“

“Ignore it, just talk to her.”

Before I can come up with a remark she has dissolved into thin air.

I look back at the sad inscription on the ground before me. I clear my throat and stick my pinky back in the fish tank.

“Capri?” I ask out loud.   

Nothing.

I clear my throat again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but its me, Oli.”

I can’t help but feel like an idiot talking to a sheet of metal. I stop talking and look back at the little fish. It has stopped nibbling on my finger and has gone back to floating in place.

“Charlotte got me a fish to replace you,” I say as I swirl my pinky in the fish water. “Loca, right?” I pull my finger out of the water and dry it on my shorts. “I haven’t named it yet,” I say. I point at the sad blue fish and tap the glass. It doesn’t budge. “I saved you fries and sundae…Sort of.”

***

The longer I talked the easier it got. I told Capri about my uneventful summer ever since she’s died. Her Lost Ceremony and Laura’s ugly dress. I told her about visiting The Nest, what’s left of it. How Maurice Fink gave me a ride home. I tried telling her about that night, when I heard the sirens.

The sun’s starting to go down and the desert wind’s picking up, tiny sand grains hitting my bare legs like miniature bullets. I readjust the plastic wrap on the fish tank and carry it back to my yellow car. I left the fries and sundae for Capri. I don’t know if that’s technically considered littering, but its too late now. I make it to my car and I’m bending over, placing the fish on the passenger side, when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. For the second time today I jolt, slamming my head into the car’s doorframe.

“Coño!” I cuss as I clutch my throbbing head.

“Someone’s got a sailor’s mouth,” I hear someone say behind me. The voice is rugged and gravelly sounding. The voice of a chain smoker.   

I turn back, ready to give a piece of my mind to whoever is creeping on me at the damn Vejestorio and I see its Axel Rivera.

Axel and I have been going to school together since I moved here. His family has probably been here just as long as Capri’s. Unlike the Ramos though, the Riveras are known for all the bad things. Theft and drugs being some of the items on their long family record.

Axel is tall and fit, but I wouldn’t describe him as muscular. He has tan, caramel skin and short dark hair that matches his dark eyes. He has soft facial features that reveal his age.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still rubbing my head.

“I work here, güera.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that. I’m not blonde,” I say as I shift my weight from one foot to the other and run my hand through my brown curls.

“Close enough, Blondie.”

“What’s your job anyway?”

“Security,” he says as he sticks his hands in his jean pockets.

“Well you haven’t been doing a very good job,” I say as I point down the road at the archway with the missing letters.

“Whatever. No one ever comes out here anyway.”

For some reason this strikes a chord and I’m tempted to jump in my small car and run him over.  I cross my arms over my chest and look back at the barren cemetery.

“Well, maybe someone ought to care.”

I turn back towards my car, ready to go home. I reach the driver’s door and I climb in, buckling my seatbelt. I’m about to close my car door when I notice Axel has moved and is standing a few feet away from my door.

“Olivia,” he says leaning towards me.

I clamp my fingers around the steering wheel, anticipating the awful “I’m sorry” and pity smile combo.

“Is that a fish?” he asks.

I’m surprised by his question and it takes me a few seconds to process what he’s actually saying. He knits his eyebrows together and points at the fish tank sitting on the floor of my passenger seat. I follow his finger to the tank, the question finally making sense.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to act like toting a fish around like a purse is perfectly normal.

“Cool,” he says as he straightens himself back up. “What’s its name?”

“Spud,” I say as I shut my car door. I crank my car and Axel steps back, sticking his hands back in his pockets. I back out of the spot and drive towards the winding gravel road that leads to the archway. As I speed off I look in my rearview mirror and see Axel still standing there, and arm waving me away.

Chapter 4

I’m sitting on a beach towel, doodling in a notebook while listening to music. Whenever the breeze picks up it hammers desert sand against my skin and the cemetery plaques, making a sound similar to rain. For the third time this week I’m sitting in front of Capri’s grave eating French fries and a sundae while Spud floats in his tank. I’ve been sketching a drawing of the small beta fish for over 20 minutes now and its finally coming to life. Unlike what has become the typical Spud pose I have captured this fish swimming, its long fins and tail swelling with the movement of water like parachutes. The wind and sand rattle the pages of my notebook, so I take a break and close it, waiting for the wind to come down.  I trace my index finger over the raised engraving of Capri’s plaque, spelling her name with my finger.

The name Capri was selected as a sort of inside joke between her parents. Whenever Mrs. Ramos discovered that she was pregnant again her and Mr. Ramos decided that this would be their last child. They then agreed to spoil her rotten and joked about all the wondrous things they would do for their new daughter. At some point Capri’s father said that they were setting themselves up to raise the ultimate caprichosa. Capricious. They joked of their newest daughter being a temperamental, unreasonable, and impulsive brat. Soon they shortened it to Capri and it stuck. This was one of Capri’s favorite stories to tell. It was also one that I had probably heard over a dozen times since teachers and classmates where usually curious of the origin of her rare name.

I trace over Capri’s name a few more times before deciding to pack up and call it a day. The wind doesn’t seem to be coming down and I’m getting a thorough exfoliation from being brushed by the drifting sand. I leave the remaining sundae and fries and take the rest of my stuff to my car. I’m walking down the pathway that leads to the parking lot when I see Axel sitting on the vibrant hood of my car.

“Hey, Blondie.” He’s smoking a skinny cigarette, the picture of not having a care in the world.

“I refuse to respond to that,” I say as I make my way around to the passenger seat, now officially Spud’s seat. I place him on the floor of the car and close the door, making my way to the driver’s seat.

“Isn’t that technically a response?” He asks, taking a drag and knitting his eyebrows together.

I stop at my car door, glare at him, and proceed to hop in. I close the door after me and I buckle up and crank the engine. I’m surprised to see that Axel hasn’t budged and is calmly smoking away. I give him a second and when I see that he hasn’t made an attempt to move I press the horn lightly.

He doesn’t even flinch.

I lay on my horn.

Nothing.

I sigh and roll my window down.

“Would you mind?” I say, sticking my head out the window and pointing at his butt.

“Where are you going?” he asks, taking another drag.

“Why do you care?” I retort.

“I asked first, Blondie.”

“Its non of your business!” I say, getting more irritated by the minute.

“Fine,” he says as he turns back to look ahead of him, “suit yourself.”

He takes one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it on the sand floor. I give him a minute to stand up but he’s still sitting on my hood.

I lay on my horn one last time.

Nothing.

I shift my car to reverse and start backing up. Axel looks back at me, smiles, and brings his feet up, resting them on my front bumper while grabbing on to my windshield wipers. I step on the accelerator a little harder but he’s grabbing on tight. I finally give up and brake, shifting my car back to park. I sigh and poke my head out my window again.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Just answer one question and I’ll hop off and let you go wherever it is you’re going,” he says, turning to smile back at me.

“Fine. Ask your stupid question.”

“What do you think happened to Capri?”