The Chilcanos 2.7

Part 2 - Andreas

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The Chilcanos

Andreas came out of the room slowly. His coral T-shirt hung loosely on his body; a trace of sleep still on him. No shoes. No hurry. No nerves either. In the car, light poured through the open windows and settled on his shoulders; his skin gave it back.

From a distance, we saw Adriana, waiting with the wristbands tangled in her hand. Radiant. Sure of herself. Yellow dress with red flowers; her walk cleared a path. She took my arm right away, firm, and introduced me to her friends.

“My boyfriend,” she said, steady.

I squeezed her arm. My smile lit up. It was official. What I’d waited for had finally happened.

Andreas introduced himself too. A crooked smile, easygoing. He looked like he’d always been part of the group. Maybe better.

Everyone arrived at once, my friends and hers. Jorge and Claudia from school. With them came Debra, Claudia’s cousin, blonde, light on her feet, bright-eyed.

Adriana told New York stories with open hands. Andreas spoke softly about the parcel, like a place you protect. They moved easily among everyone without forcing a thing. It was easy to believe they’d always been part of my life.

At some point, Adriana raised her glass to Andreas. He flicked a lemon seed off the rim with his finger.

“Full ritual,” he said. “Now we’re good.”

She nodded without breaking eye contact.

“Cheers,” she answered.

They held each other’s gaze, briefly. She whispered something; he smiled. They were about to swap codes when Debra cut in with another round of chilcanos. As she handed one to Andreas, juice ran down his wrist; the lime left a cold thread to his elbow.

“Sorry,” Debra said.

Andreas shook his hand. Adriana was already there with a napkin, drying him from thumb to elbow, precise.

“I knew it would happen,” she said.

“I didn’t think it would be today,” he said.

Adriana turned to me.

“Stay on the edge tonight,” she said in my ear.

“With you,” I answered.

*

“Come on, Gael. I want to introduce you to a friend,” Adriana said, taking my hand and pulling me toward another group. She led me to a guy in a linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

“I’ve known him since I was little. He’s from the beach. His gaze is hard, but his gestures aren’t. He started a foundation for families hit hard by mining,” she whispered. “You’ll like him.”

“Mariano, this is Gael.”

He adjusted his watch before shaking my hand. Adriana held on to me until that second. Then she let go. Someone at the bar called her over for the wristbands.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Look after him.”

He took his time before speaking.

“Chilcano?” he offered, hesitating.

I took it. I looked for Andreas. He was talking to Debra.

“Hey,” he said. “Mariano.”

“Gael,” I said.

I glanced up. The sky was amber and heavy.

“Some view, right? Do you watch the light?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes it stays where it has work to do.”

“Work?”

“To sort things out. To open them up. Depends on the day.”

He took a short sip.

“Adriana told me you’re from the north.”

“I’m not from the north,” I said. “My family is.”

“It shows,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he meant it as a good thing.

Adriana passed behind us carrying glasses; someone tugged her away again.

“Sorry, be right back,” she said, vanishing into laughter and wristbands.

“Don’t worry,” Mariano said. “She’ll be back.”

He kept his eyes on the counter’s edge and traced a line with his nail.

“Some days the edge works better than the center does. Don’t you think?”

Andreas was still with Debra. They fit. She didn’t let go of him with her eyes. Windswept, her hair the right kind of messy, her laugh quick, her hand on his arm.

Mariano tapped his glass twice with his index finger.

“I’m not following. The edge?”

“You see better. It gives you distance.”

He gestured at the party.

“We’re at the margin. From here you see who’s here and who isn’t. In the center, the noise hits you. You can’t see.”

Our eyes met. I took a long drink.

“How do you know about edges?”

“Adriana taught me. She has a good eye. That’s why she brought you.”

I looked up.

“I was diagnosed with terminal cancer at sixteen. I didn’t think I’d make it this far. When I accepted that I couldn’t control it, life or death, I started living.”

He let out a breath.

“Since then, I don’t waste time.”

“That’s brave,” I murmured.

“Not bravery. Perspective. Someone’s coming over for you. Do you know him?”

“Andreas,” I said. Mariano glanced at the sea, then retraced the line with his finger.

*

Andreas arrived with a quick step and tight eyes. He rested his arm on my shoulder.

“Come on, walk with me. Let’s find Debra.”

“See you at the edge,” I told Mariano by way of a goodbye. He lifted his hand halfway.

As we walked, Andreas leaned to my ear.

“I don’t want to find Debra,” he whispered. “You looked a little bored, so I thought I’d pull you out.”

I laughed and raised my glass toward him in a small toast.

“Heartbreaker, huh?”

“I’m charming. Northern blood.” He laughed. “Remember when I taught you the clock game with the cards?”

“I remember it perfectly. I think that’s how I learned to count.”

“Your grandfather taught me.”

“Really? He didn’t teach me like that. He threw books at me.”

“I think he thinks you’re smarter than you look.”

“Ha, what?”

“I mean… wait, the other way around. You’re even smarter than you seem. That’s why he gave you books, but I don’t think he knows you need a few steps first. He sees you as already grown because you’re from Lima. People here tend to assume that.”

Ice slid down my spine.

His smile shifted. His face thinned, fragile. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Walk?” he asked, pointing toward the shoreline.

We went down the concrete steps to the sand.

“You have good friends, a good beach. It’s a good place to stay.”

I didn’t know what to say. The party pulsed far away now, like a borrowed echo. The sea rose in pitch. Waves broke hard, like a warning.

“Sometimes I wonder what goes through your head, Gae,” he said without turning.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I know you, but sometimes I can’t read you or keep your pace. I try. The clock game is simple. You place the numbers in a circle, you order, you learn to count. The point isn’t to win. It’s to count. With you, it was different. The second you got it, you moved on to something else, fast. And I thought: One day you’ll do that with me. You’ll look at something else, something that feels better, sharper. It isn’t you. It’s me. It scares me, Gael. Sometimes you pull up a wall between us and it scares me.”

The sand slipped under my feet. I would have sworn he was the reserved one.

“It isn’t that, Andreas. It’s just that…” My voice gave out.

He took a step toward me. The party fell behind. The wind set us apart in the dark.

“I know you, Gael,” he said quietly. “I know you like Adriana. I also know there’s more between us.”

He gave a small nod. Slow. Certain. He touched his wrist. No watch.

“What are you talking about?”

A wave crashed hard, like thunder.

“I like you, Gael. I always have.”

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