Furia by Yamile Saied Méndez

Author:Yamile Saied Méndez [Méndez, Yamile Saied]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2020-09-14T19:00:00+00:00

17

The air conditioner blasted my face, and sweaty as I was, I started to shiver.

“Sorry,” Diego said, and reached over me to close the vent. He twisted the dial back and forth, but the air didn’t stop. I saw the off button on the dashboard, and I reached over. When I did, my whole body pressed against his arm. I hit the button, and the air died like a held sigh.

He fell back in his seat, flustered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, putting my hand on his arm, and I felt him flex automatically.

“It’s just that . . . I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Yesterday I only went to your house because Pablo insisted, but you didn’t even want to see me. I’m not a jerk, you know? I can take a no. And now . . .”

If we were going to have that conversation, I needed food. “Weren’t you going to get me dinner? I’m about to pass out in your brand-new car, Titán.” I paused. There was no trace of a superstar in the boy sitting next to me. “Diego.” I said his name the same way I’d said it that night when we’d kissed for the first time. Like I did in my imagination when the kiss led to other things. Things I’d never done with a boy before. But my body craved him all the same.

Silently, Diego turned on the engine, and we left.

Time stood still when I played fútbol, but now, like Cinderella at the ball, I felt the clock rushing. Diego was leaving again, and I didn’t know how to cope with all my feelings.

He knew my secret now: I was a futbolera. Having someone see all of me—besides Roxana—was liberating. No more wearing different faces at home, school, the pitch, with Diego.

I felt naked.

Maluma played softly on the radio, promising a night of fun without contracts or promises. Guys say they want that, but they don’t. They want all of us, girls, women. All, without leaving us any space to enjoy ourselves. What kind of guy was Diego when he wasn’t playing the roles of best friend, superstar, or son?

For once, neither logical Camila nor rash Furia could take the helm. In my mind, there was silence, but it wasn’t the calm before the storm; it was the stunning quiet before the unknown.

The car zipped by Ovidio Lagos, all the way downtown to Distinción Bakery. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and hopped out.

I leaned back into the seat and locked the doors. I closed my eyes for a second that became a minute that became more.

A knock on my window startled me awake. It was Diego.

“Let’s go,” he said once I’d unlocked the door for him. The smell of fresh bread and powdered sugar made my mouth water. My eyelids fluttered in exhaustion, and when I smiled at him, Diego brushed my hair off my face. “Hey, Furia. If you want to go home, I won’t be offended. I’ve been thinking, and—”

“Call me Camila.

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