"Get out of here, Esther, we're done."

"I didn't mean to upset you-"

"If you can't hold up your end of the relationship then I'll just find someone who can! There's plenty of girls who will do what I ask, you're nothing special!" Adam screamed at me. He had never screamed like that before, let alone at me. I shrunk into myself as he chased me out the door. "Get the fuck out of here!"

He slammed the door in my face. My tears washed my makeup away and the rain washed my tears away. I stood there staring at the front door to his house, hugging my shoulders and sobbing. "Adam..." I choked hoarsely. 

A yellow car pulled up the driveway, shining its headlights in my eyes. It was his mom coming home from work. I didn't want her to see me like this. I took off down the street, hearing her car door slam and her voice calling out to me. She was a nice woman. But I never wanted to see her son ever again. 

I got home to my apartment and slammed the door. Kicking off my muddy shoes I ran to my room and slammed that door as well, locking it. I always locked my bedroom door when I had a bad day. 

Mom wasn't home yet. Nana was gone too. 

That was the tenth time Adam had pulled this shit. Every time I went over to his house by invitation he wanted to have sex. I told him I wasn't ready and he'd try anyway. So I pushed him off and that only angered him. 

He hit me for it once.

His mom would come home all smiles and ask how our day was. Adam would hide his bad attitude and hug and kiss her and tell her about the great time we had making dinner or watching a film on the television. And I played along.

I rejected him again and he threw me out of the house and our relationship. Some fucking boyfriend he was. Right then I swore boys off. I never wanted to see another one for as long as I lived. 

I cleaned my makeup off and changed out of my wet clothes. I grabbed my violin out of its case and began to play. The notes were angry and hurt just like me. 

**********

"You ever have a boyfriend?" Bon asked me as we shared a bottle of whiskey. He had called me again and asked if he could come over. Ready to have some company I eagerly agreed and dished us up some leftover chicken soup. After eating and doing dishes we sat on the floor and put some records on. Bon brought a huge bottle of Jack and I got some glasses and ice. We had been sitting there for over an hour.

"One," I mumbled. "I don't like to talk about him."

"Alright then," Bon said and we were quiet again. I poured myself another glass. 

"What about you?" I asked.

"Hm?"

"Ever have a girlfriend?" He shrugged.

"Several," he said. "Had a wife too."

Huh," was all I said. I wasn't expecting to hear that. Obviously they weren't together anymore and I felt bad. I was almost sorry I asked. "What was her name?"

"Irene," he said. "She's a wonderful woman, make no mistake. But it didn't work out, ya' know?"

"Sure," I said. Little Richard sang the soundtrack to our moment of moping. Halfway drunk and reminiscing on old flames and relationships, we weren't exactly the picture of happiness. Scout sighed from his bed and rolled over. He wasn't much of a drinker and left us to ourselves. "Who needs love?"

Bon looked at me. "What are ya' talkin' about?" he asked. 

"Love. Who needs it?" I repeated and downed half my glass. "All humans do is dump you for the next one. They don't know a fucking thing about love." I stared at the ice in my glass which seemed to have multiplied since the last time I looked. "I'm sticking with dogs."

"Not all humans are like that," Bon said. "You're not like that."

"Scout isn't like that," I said pointing at him. "He's my favorite boy in the world."

Bon laughed. "No, Scout would never," he said. I could feel him staring at me. "I wouldn't either."

I poked his cheek. "How do I know you won't?" I asked. "Hm? How do I know I can trust you?" There seemed to be two Bons now. They were looking at the floor. 

"We're friends, aren't we?" he asked. "Ya' trusted me enough to be my friend." I narrowed my eyes and kept drinking. 

"Guess so," I mumbled. Bon chuckled. "What?" I asked.

"You're funny," he said. "You're a funny kid."

"I am not," I said, coughing a bit from my illness. "And I'm no kid either."

"Come on, compared to me? You're so young!" I scoffed. "I'm an old man."

"On what planet are you old?" I asked. "Thirty two is young, you've got your whole life ahead of you."

"Ya' think so?" he asked. I looked him right in the eye and nodded.

"I know so," I said. "One day you'll be eighty years old and you'll look back on your life and you'll be fucking proud."

Bon looked back and forth from me to the floor. "An' where will you be?" he asked. 

"Me?"

He shrugged and looked sort of shy. "You'll still be my friend, won't ya'?" he asked. "We can sit in our rocking chairs together an'....talk like we're talkin' now." I smiled.

"Sure. We can drink like we're drinking now and listen to Little Richard."

"I'd like that," he said. 

I didn't realize how close we had been sitting. Our noses were almost touching. His eyes were glittering with kindness. I liked him a lot. 

This is the part where we kissed, right? 

Realizing Bon was such a great friend and developing other feelings for him, I would lean in and kiss him. And after we separated we would admit we had feelings for each other and thus start our relationship. That's how it was supposed to go. 

Both of us leaned closer. My heart started pounding and his lips touched mine. I closed my eyes and tried to savor the feeling. Warm. Soft. Caring. 

And that was it.

Bon pulled away first and I kept my eyes closed. "Esther?" he said. 

"Yeah." I said, not looking. 

"You okay?"

I felt my cold glass start to warm up in my hands. The ice was melting and my drink was watering down. I chugged the rest and coughed. "Yeah," I said. "I'm fine." My voice was raspy. We weren't as close to each other as before. My fingernails tapped my glass and Bon shifted in his seat. I was scared to face his reaction. 

"You're not...upset with me?"

"No, of course not," I dismissed, trying to make light of the situation. "I could never be upset with you."

"Oh," he said. Moment of silence. "So....what are ya' thinkin'?"

I finally looked up at him. He looked just as uncomfortable as I did. Maybe the kiss was a mistake. A drunken mistake. We'd forget all about it in the morning. Nobody would have to know a thing. And our friendship....wouldn't change.

"It was....nice," I said and he nodded.

"Yeah....not bad," he said.

We sat there for a moment. I knew I'd have to be the one to break the ice. "Bon?"

"Yeah?"

I swished the last few drops of my whiskey around in the glass. "Do you mind if we just....stay friends?" I asked. I bit my lip, almost afraid. What was I afraid of? I was afraid of Bon getting upset and sending me away despite this being my house. Not thinking about what Bon told me minutes before about how I could trust him, I was afraid of not being enough for him. I wasn't enough for Adam, after all. But....I couldn't bring myself to like the kiss. It was nice, sure. But no matter how much I tried I didn't have those feelings for Bon. Or anybody. 

And I wasn't sure why.

Bon surprised me by smiling and wrapping an arm around me. "I'd love nothin' more," he said. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. 

"Thanks," I said, leaning against him. He was warm and safe. Nothing like Adam. We spent our night sitting there on the floor getting more and more drunk and listening to the same record over and over again. My neighbors probably hated us. The last thing I remembered was passing out in my bed and falling asleep as soon as I hit the pillow. 

**********

"I can't believe they talked you into taking that stuff." I stuffed the little baggie back into my pocket. The group wouldn't like me waving it around like this. But I had to show someone! Working at a women's department store had its perks. I was able to save up enough money to buy my own heroin. Arnold introduced us to his dealer. He frightened me at first but I got over it. Ramona didn't like him one bit. 

"It feels good," I said sitting on Ramona's pink bed. Her whole bedroom was pink. The walls were covered with posters of Linda Ronstadt and the Beatles. There were bunny slippers on her rug and a pile of school books on her desk next to a lamp. "Nothing wrong with something that feels good."

Ramona didn't answer. She knew it was pointless to argue with me. I always had something to counteract with. Her mom came in without knocking and I shoved my hands in my pockets, keeping the baggie safe. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour," she said.

"Okay, Mamá," she said and Mrs. Diaz closed the door. Ramona sighed. "Hope you like chalupas and stuffed pepper." She smiled. 

"I love them," I said, having never tried a chalupa. Nana had been making risotto for days at a time lately and I was eager to eat something different. "Chalupas sound great."

"Hey, you finish your homework yet?" she asked. "It took me all night to finish math." I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I uh...haven't exactly gotten to it yet," I said and Ramona looked at me in disbelief. "I'll do it later, I promise!"

"You know it's due tomorrow, right?" she asked. "And that we've had all week to finish it?"

"Aw, but it's so boring!" I said and fell back on her bed, looking up at the ceiling. I used to like pointing out whatever shapes I found like clouds in the sky. "Don't you ever get tired of doing the same old shit every day? School and homework and chores-"

"Of course I do," she said. "But I want a job and a house of my own." She sat down on the bed next to me and sighed. "I can't get all that without school." I opened my mouth but she cut me off. "Maybe you can, Esther," she said. "But I can't."

"Of course you can, you just haven't tried!" I said. "Plenty of successful people left school."

"That's great, but I'm not one of them," she said. "I thrive best in academics. It's hard sometimes, sure. But it's where I need to be." 

I found a cat in the ceiling of shapes playing with a ball of yarn. "Maybe you're right." I sat up to face her. "I'm certainly not cut out for school. Way too many rules. No room to be creative."

"How would you know, Esther, you don't apply yourself!" I couldn't help rolling my eyes. 

"That's what Mom says, I'm sick of it." Once in a while I'd come home with a less than pleasing grade and Mom would sigh and ask if I applied myself. I always said yes but I knew she didn't believe me. What's sad is that I used to get great grades. Teachers loved me and I never had to study for anything. But then I never formed a habit out of it and started slacking off in high school.  "Let's talk about something else," I said, picking up a teen magazine that had been lying on the floor. I flipped through and saw all the latest celebrity crushes and gossip. 

"Where's your boyfriend?" Ramona asked. "I haven't seen him around in a while." I kept my face hidden behind the magazine. 

"We broke up," I said, refusing to go into details. "Boys are all assholes anyway."

Ramona got quiet for a bit. I finally put the magazine down and saw she was staring at me but quickly looked away. She played with the rings on her fingers and her charm bracelet. The more I studied Ramona, the more I realized just how pretty she was, and had only gotten prettier since. 

Boys were assholes, but what about girls? Did...I like girls? I always caught myself staring at Ramona or other pretty girls in school, wishing I looked like them. And it would explain why I could never feel the way I was supposed to about boys. It wasn't that uncommon to be gay, people just didn't talk about it very much. Everyone at school knew Ramona was and everyone also knew I would beat the shit out of them if they gave her a hard time. It got to the point where people started teasing me about being gay. After threatening to kick their asses, they left me alone. 

But what if they were right?

Ramona looked shyly up at me. I knew she wouldn't make the first move so I scooted closer to her and brushed her hair away from her face. We got closer and closer until our lips just barely touched.

The door slammed open. "Ramona! Mamá wants you to set the table for dinner!"

Ramona and I jumped apart at the sound of the door to see Ramona's little sister Isabella standing there in her pigtails and overalls. Her face was unassuming and I knew she hadn't seen us. Everyone at school might have known Ramona was gay, but her family sure didn't. And Ramona wasn't sure how to tell them yet.

Kissing a girl in her bedroom and being ratted on by her little sister might not be what she planned. 

"Hormiguita! Get out of my room!" Isabella ran out as Ramona chased her. "Doesn't anyone knock in this house?" Ramona slammed her bedroom door and sighed, looking back at me. Our faces were beet red. 

"Sorry," I said. 

"For what?" she asked coming back to sit on the bed. I shrugged and scooted away. 

"For thinking this was a good idea." Her face fell. 

"Oh," she said. "I see."

I winced. "That's not what I meant," I said. "I know you haven't told your family yet and I should have been more careful. And...." I looked down at my jeans. "I don't think I'm gay...."

"So....you kissed me to figure that out?" she asked crossing her arms. 

"Kind of...." I admitted. "Look, it wasn't a bad kiss. But....I thought I would feel something, you know?" Ramona finally smiled.

"I felt something," she said and played with her hair. "When you leaned in....I thought you had a crush on me too." I sighed.

"I thought I did too," I said. "I'm sorry."

She put a hand on mine. "Don't be. I understand."

So I wasn't gay. But I didn't want to kiss boys either. So...where did I fit in? Where did that leave me?

"Ramona!" Mrs. Diaz started yelling in Spanish and Ramona sighed.

"I'm coming!" She stood from the bed and offered me her hand. "Come on, let's go set the table." I smiled and let her help me off the bed. Right then I decided having friends was a lot more fun than romance. Romance was too confusing. But friends were special.

And so were chalupas.