They're Playing Our Song

Pink Moon

He didn't know why he asked her that. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know. But if he was going to do this, was going to go to Caliraya with her and basically cement his new summer job with the Celie Lacuesta Youth Orchestra, maybe he needed to know. Or maybe he was setting himself up for rejection and failure.

She sighed, a sigh that was way too deep and too sad for someone like her. She leaned back against the seat, never taking her eyes off the road as she sipped her coffee. She was right by the way, it was delicious. It wasn't third wave specialty anything, but it was sugary and cool and had that zing of caffeine as you drank it.

On the radio Pink Moon was playing, and the strumming guitar and Nick Drake's baritone just fit the mood.

"I didn't want the risk of your rejection. Everything we did that night? I never do that. And here you are, the man of my dreams, successful and funny and sweet as hell, who, for some reason, seemed to like me. It scared the hell out of me," Nora finally said, after a long, agonizing wait. "You know too much about me, Leo. I mean, you know I play the piano, and that's my only secret."

"Why is that scary?" He asked, and if this wasn't serious conversation, he would have latched on to the fact that she'd used the term "man of my dreams" around him. He never thought of himself as intimidating. Handsome, sure. But intimidating?

"All my life, I was told that I wasn't enough. That I was too fat, had too many pimples, lalala," she waved her hand in such a blasé manner that he would have thought she wasn't affected by it if she wasn't suddenly glaring at the road. "But I outgrew that, and I actually think I'm beautiful."

"Gorgeous."

"Thank you, and I agree. I wanted someone who could see me exactly for who I am, see me with the weight on and not think, 'well, she'd be great if she wasn't fat.' They would see me and think...wow. You know? I've never had that, and I have come to expect that it will never happen for me."

He opened his mouth to protest, because someone had to, but Nora shook her head to stop him.

"I know you said you felt different, growing up in America, but you still grew up in America. You just took up the violin, you chose it. It was a possibility. When they said you could dream big, your family meant it in every way possible. For me it was, dream big—"

"But only if it earns," Leo nodded. "I heard."

"In this country, America is The Dream," she pointed out to him. "People are always going to treat you differently here by virtue of your passport, your accent, your eyes. It scared me that if we got together, people would see me even less. Or worse, ask why the hell we would be together, because everyone knows that a foreigner and a Pinay girl only get together for one thing, and..."

She sighed, like she'd run out of steam, and he thought back to those moments at the beach, where she would suddenly retreat into her shell, or pull away from him, just when he thought he'd managed to get close.

She was right, though. Even if his grandparents were Mexican, his mother had been born and raised in Coral Gables. His father was white, and the owner of the biggest market research company in the world. He passed as white wherever he went. And he admitted that it wasn't a bad place to be in.

"All of that," he said slowly, not wanting to sound like an ass. "From one night?"

"Well, I've had seven days of radio silence to think it over," she chuckled.

"So what changed? You could have pretended not to see me today."

"I could have. But I like you, Leo. You see me the way I see myself," she continued. "And I can't quite believe it."