Here the Whole Time(32)



In this moment, I’ve come to understand three things:

Even though she’s thin, Melissa also feels insecure. Being thin is not a prize you win in the lottery of life that guarantees eternal happiness.

I’ve watched enough rom-coms and have attended enough therapy sessions to know that my happiness cannot depend on another person. And yet, I still wish I had someone to call me deary and convince me to come into the pool and tell me they love me in a soft voice, in a way you can only hear from up close.

The person I wish were calling me deary and saying they love me in a low voice is playing with an inflatable flamingo named Harry Styles and is probably oblivious to everything that just happened here.



Caio, Becky, and Melissa spend the entire day in the pool. My mom brings us sandwiches and juice for lunch, I get to read all my comics and the first few chapters of the novel I brought (a sci-fi about dinosaurs and robots), and when the sun starts going down I’m exhausted, even though I did a whole lot of nothing all afternoon. It must be the heat.

The three of them decide to get out of the water and go back home, and my heart is torn. Part of me is happy because I can’t stand to sit around anymore, but the other part will miss watching Caio in his Speedo. We collect our things and go back upstairs.

My mom insists on having Becky and Melissa over for dinner, but the two of them have plans for the evening and politely decline the invitation.

“We’ll see you again tomorrow!” Becky tells Caio before saying goodbye, and that makes me happy.

First because I know how happy it makes Caio to spend time with his best friend. You can tell from the look on his face. He looks like a Labrador retriever on a road trip, his head sticking out the window and his tongue hanging out.

And second because, in a way, I feel like part of the group. Even when I’m just watching from far away, I feel like they see me. When Becky makes a joke, Caio looks at me to see if I’m laughing. When Caio says something silly, Becky looks at me before rolling her eyes. I feel like I belong. And it feels good.

“All right, let’s find a time. Mel, how long are you staying?” Caio asks.

“Only until Sunday. Just another couple of days,” she answers, and Becky’s mouth curves down in a sad face.

Then the ritual of group farewells begins, as awkward and messy as expected. Becky hugs Caio and kisses his cheeks while Melissa does the same with my mom, then they go on, Melissa with Caio and Becky with me, and suddenly Becky is hugging Caio again and saying, “Oops, I’ve already said goodbye to you,” and everyone is lost and talking over one another.

Melissa takes this opportunity to give me a strong hug (stronger than what’s typically expected when hugging someone you’ve known for less than a day). Then she whispers in a very low voice to my ear, “Don’t be silly; he’s wild about you, too.”

And I let out a nervous laugh, as if to say, “What are you talking about, girl?” But Melissa just smiles at me and takes off down the hallway, holding hands with Rebeca. They are so different from each other, but when they’re together like this, walking in the same pace, they seem like the coolest pair in the whole world.



When night comes, I put on my Batman pajamas again and feel two questions thrumming in my head:

What the heck was Melissa talking about? I know she meant Caio. I’m not a moron. But where did she get the idea that he’s into me? I wonder if it’s real, official intel or if Mel is a sensitive person who can infer people’s intentions. Because if it’s the latter, she’s wrong.

How many times can I wear the same pajamas without washing them? They’re not like regular clothes that you wear throughout the day, but still they stay on your body for hours. And it was hot last night. But I checked and they don’t smell bad. They still smell brand-new, actually. Is it customary to own two pairs so you can wear one while the other is in the laundry? Because if that’s the case, I could get myself a Robin version. Which isn’t a bad idea, anyway.



When I get to my room, Caio is already in his bed, reading The Two Towers. That’s when I notice he looks even better after a day in the sun. His skin is even tanner now, and his lips are rosier. I feel like throwing myself on top of him and asking my first question.

But since I can’t really ask, “Is it true what Melissa said, that you’re wild about me?” I ask question number two.

“How many sets of pajamas do you think the average person owns?”

Caio laughs and closes his book, putting a bookmark on the page he was reading.

“I own three,” he answers.

“I own one,” I say, hoping he’s forgotten about the beige pj’s.

And since I don’t know what else to say, I turn off the lights and lie in bed, feeling my back hurt a little from all the sun.

“Pj’s are like our best friends,” Caio says. “They need to make us feel comfortable. And you don’t need a bunch.”

“Nice metaphor. How many best friends do you have?” I ask, and it takes Caio two seconds to answer, as if he was going through his list of best friends in his mind.

“I think just Becky. Melissa is cool, but I don’t know her very well. I can’t call her a good friend. I had more friends at school at one point, but they started drifting away as it became more obvious that I was … gay,” he says the last word in a lower tone of voice, as if it were still a secret. “What about you? Who are your best friends?”

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