Here the Whole Time(37)

“Bruno, Jorge,” I say, looking the two of them in the eyes, my voice louder than I intended. “Go fuck yourselves.”

And the two of them go quiet. Not even a little laugh from Bruno. Jorge seems confused because, for the very first time, I did something. And I’m still standing, hoping they will go the hell away, because I have no plan B.

“Calm down, man, calm down. Can’t you take a little joke, Butterball?” Jorge says with a half smile on his face, as if I hadn’t taken a lifetime of jokes already.

At this point, Becky punches the table again, and it startles Bruno. I hold back my laughter, because I don’t want them to think everything is okay.

“Okay, then, man. We’re gonna go. But I’ll see you again at school,” Jorge says in a menacing tone, then turns and leaves. Bruno, like the good doormat he is, follows right behind.

I collapse on my chair, taking a deep breath and trying to understand everything that just happened. I wait out my anger, taking a sip of my beer (the last one, I swear), and when I look at Caio, he’s smiling at me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” I start to say.

“You go to school with these dumbasses?” Becky interrupts.

I nod.

“Look, Fe,” she starts in a calmer voice. That makes me smile; no one has ever called me Fe. “I had to put up with those types at my school, too, and I thought it was going to get better in college. Spoiler alert—it doesn’t. The world is full of assholes and that’s never going to change.”

“Becky, always the optimist,” Caio says, giggling.

“But it’s the truth! Things will always be more complicated for those of us who don’t fit their petty standards. When was the last time you had it easy?”

I stop and think for a while before I answer. “When I was eight and it was cute to be chubby.”

“When I was eight, my aunts were already insisting I should go on a diet,” Becky says. “When you’re a girl, being fat is never cute. When you’re a girl, you must always be skinny.”

I swallow hard, because I’ve never considered that.

“Now picture this: I’m fat, a woman, and Black. Who has to walk down the street and hear all sorts of offensive comments. And then when I was about twelve, I realized I was into girls, and all the bad things I used to hear out on the streets I now had to hear at home, too. Things get even worse when folks stop talking and start doing things to you instead. To bring you down. To break you down.” As Becky talks, her voice dims into a whisper.

For the first time since I met Becky, I catch a glimpse of her vulnerability. For a moment, she’s not the strong, tough, and funny girl I’ve gotten to know in the last few days, and I feel my heart tighten in my chest. I wish I could protect this girl for the rest of her life.

“No one can protect us but ourselves,” she says, as if reading my thoughts. “But, look, Felipe, I swear to you that one day things will get better. One day you’ll learn to like who you are a little better, and that’ll be reflected in what other people see when they look at you. There will always be assholes, but we learn to fight back. That’s the most important thing—to not put your head down, to fight for the right to marry who you love, for the right to have your body respected regardless of what it looks like or what you’re wearing. To fight for the right to walk down the street without being attacked for the color of your skin.”

Caio, Melissa, and I listen attentively to Rebeca’s speech. I’m afraid I’ll blink and miss an important part. When Becky is done talking, we all sit in silence. Nobody knows what to say. I feel like clapping, but I’m not sure that would be appropriate.

“Booze always inspires me,” Becky says finally.

And we all start laughing and talking at the same time. But Becky gives me a side hug and whispers in my ear, “You knocked it out of the park, Fe!”

And if I’d known that telling Bruno and Jorge to go fuck themselves would make me feel this good, I’d have done it ages ago.



It’s past midnight when the party ends. Little by little, the food booths close down (and yes, I did get my corn on the cob in time), the band stops playing, and the square empties out.

“Will you still be around town tomorrow, Mel?” Caio asks when the four of us are making our way back home.

“Yeah, until late afternoon, more or less,” she answers while smelling the tips of her hair. From her expression, they probably smell like barbecue smoke.

“Look, Caio,” Becky interjects. “I know you love me, but tomorrow it’s just me and her,” she says with a wink.

Caio pretends to be offended and puts his arm around my shoulder.

“We don’t care, do we, Lipé? Tomorrow it’s also just me and him,” he says, and from the sound of his voice, he’s a little drunk.

I am, too, but that doesn’t stop me from breaking into a cold sweat because Caio is practically hugging me. To my disappointment, the moment only lasts three seconds. Caio lets go of me, almost tripping in the process, and then jumps on Becky to say goodbye.

“Don’t you dare go forgetting I exist, you hear me?” he says, his face shoved against his friend’s neck.

“I never do,” Becky responds.

We say goodbye to the girls and make our way home. I’m surprised when Caio puts his arm around my shoulders. I’m a few inches taller, so he has to walk on the tips of his toes.