Signal to Noise (16 page)

“What?” she asked.

Sebastian leaned down and she thought he was going to bark another insult at her. Maybe in Catalán, maybe in Spanish.

He opened his mouth and said... nothing. Sebastian stomped away as quickly as he had come, falling onto his bed and pulling the cover around his shoulders.

“Just go,” he said.

Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to shoo Meche out. But there was a new intonation in his voice that afternoon. It prickled Meche’s skin and made her step back, confused, and she left without another word, not bothering to close the front door behind her.

R
OMUALDO ARRIVED AROUND
eight. Sebastian was still in bed. He had not moved an inch, curled up under the covers, staring at the wall and feeling like there was a piece of lead in his stomach.

“Are you sick, asshole?” Romualdo asked, his usual, cheery hello.

“No,” Sebastian asked.

“The front door was open.”

“Nobody would come in to steal.”

“It doesn’t matter. Get up and go to the living room. I need to phone Margarita.”

“Why don’t you use the pay phone down at the corner, asshole?”

Romualdo punched him in the ribs, hard. Sebastian sat up, rubbing his side and glared at his brother.

“What?” Romualdo asked. “Wanna fight?”

Romualdo was a lot stronger and beefier than Sebastian. Any fight would end with Sebastian bleeding. For a moment, though, he considered it. Then it all seemed like such a bother. Sebastian shook his head, too worn to bother with his brother.

“No. Excuse me, my cereal must be getting all soggy.”

Sebastian walked past his brother and headed into the kitchen. It was beyond soggy. He threw the cereal down the drain and poured himself a fresh bowl.

“So what did you fight with Meche about?”

“How’d you know that?” Sebastian asked, his spoon frozen in mid-air.

Romualdo laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re having chick trouble. And the only chick who ever hangs around with your sorry self is Meche. Or maybe Daniela. And I know Daniela wouldn’t rile you up like this. So what’s going on with you two?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“Fine,” Romualdo said, lifting his hands in the air.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, he thrust the spoon into his mouth and spoke while chewing at the same time. “I dunno. She irritated me. Sometimes Meche thinks she’s so much better than me. It’s like she rubs it in my face. She can be such a major bitch.”

“Then stop being friends with her.”

“Well... it doesn’t mean I hate her,” Sebastian said carefully. “It’s just we’ve been talking about this magic... um... music and magic thing and it all kind of started with this spell—”

“You are so funny.”

“What?”

“Look, you are fucked up in the head. Meche is too. You’re just both really weird.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian said dryly.

“It’s true. I was never like you and you’re definitely not like other kids. But it’s okay because Meche gets you. I don’t know why or how, but she totally does get you. And that’s a good thing. Most people, they’ll never understand you. So, after you deal with this hormonal attack or whatever it is you’re having, make up.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, running a hand through his hair.

He stirred his cereal and smiled a bit, then glanced at his brother, feeling contrite.

“I’m sorry. You should phone Margarita.”

“Ah, it’s okay,” Romualdo said. “I already know what she’s going to say.”

“Is she... is she really pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

They stood in silence, nodding. Sebastian felt, for a brief moment, like he was actually close to his brother.

“Did you really fix my old motorcycle?” Romualdo asked. “Mom told me you were out riding it the other day.”

“I did.”

“How?”

“Magic,” Sebastian said taking another spoonful of cereal.

D
ANIELA WAS DREAMING
of an adventure in the South Seas. A ship. Pirates. Marooned on an island. She imagined herself in a flowing 19th century dress, a parasol between her hands, the blinding sun scorching the sky. White sand dunes and a man approaching from afar, his shirt open to his waist. Mr. Rodriguez in the role of the hero.

“Maybe I should just ignore it. I don’t have to apologize. Do I?” Meche asked.

Daniela sighed. Meche had been going on about Sebastian all morning. She did not like it when they fought because Daniela often ended up in the middle, a courier between two upset parties. But she was not willing to play mediator this time. Besides, Meche was cutting into her daydreaming.

“I don’t know,” she said.

The bell rang. Meche grabbed her books. Mr. Rodriguez raised his voice, trying to be heard over the drone of teenage voices and the shuffling of feet.

“Remember. I have two tutoring spots left in the afternoons,” he said.

Daniela and Meche hurried to the bathroom. They had chemistry lab next and that meant they had to change into their lab coats before climbing the narrow steps to the classroom. If the coat was not spotless Miss Costa would deduct points from their lab work. Meche, as usual, had neither washed nor ironed her coat, and was trying to quickly clean a ketchup stain which had landed smack on the front of the coat.

“I was thinking of taking some tutoring sessions with Rodriguez,” Daniela said, checking her hair in the mirror to make sure her bangs were still stiff with hair spray.

“Man, I hate Rodriguez. He smiles too much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being friendly.”

“It’s annoying. Okay, what’s good for cleaning ketchup stains?”

“I don’t know. Bleach?”

“Ugh!”

“You asked.”

Meche tossed the coat in the sink and pressed both hands on each side of it, staring into the mirror.

“I hate Sebastian.”

“Meche...”

“He’s being unfair!”

“He’s hurt. The girl he likes doesn’t give a crap about him and then you are all mean to him.”

“I didn’t think he
really
wanted to dance,” Meche protested.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s the dance that’s bothering him... he told me you went to see him and called him a loser.”

“What a tattletale! That’s why he can’t get a girlfriend.”

Meche opened the faucet, pumped some soap onto the coat, and began scrubbing it vigorously.

“I’m not apologizing,” Meche said firmly.

That was the thing about Meche and Sebastian. Both were too proud and too damn stubborn to simply make up.

Meche put on the coat, which was soaking wet. Instead of a red stain she now had a pink stain. It still looked terrible.

“I wonder if I can turn it inside out?” she muttered.

“I think Costa’s going to deduct points no matter what you do. We’ve got to go or we’ll be late.”

“Fine. Worst day ever,” Meche muttered. “Constantino didn’t even look at me today. It’s like he noticed me once and now I’m back to being invisible.”

“You’re not invisible,” Daniela said.

Meche said something about boys, but Daniela was already flying away into her daydream. Pirates and South Seas and a dashing admiral saving her life.

T
HREE KNOCKS.
M
ECHE
, of course. Sebastian could ignore her. But he knew how persistent she could be. If she was back after what happened two days before, that meant she was back with a vengeance. He opened the door a crack.

“We need to talk,” Meche said. “And spare me the dirty look.”

“We do?” Sebastian said, raising an arm and resting it against the door frame.

“Don’t...”

“No,
you
don’t,” he replied.

“You are such a baby,” Meche whispered and held out a piece of paper. “Here. Take it.”

Sebastian looked at the paper warily. She kept waving it in front of his face so he grabbed and unfolded it. It was a rail map of Europe. He looked carefully at the jumble of colours, the red and yellow and blue lines, and back at Meche.

“It’s for the wall. For your collection,” she said.

Sebastian was quiet. Meche sighed.

“I’m trying to apologize to you,” she whispered.

He did not budge. It had come to this. She had to use her trump card. Meche didn’t want to. He could tell.

She gave in.

“My object of power is the Duncan Dhu record,” she told him. “The one we played that time in the factory. I selected it after we were done. I keep it my room in a box with some toys.”

“You’re not lying?”

“What do you think?”

Sebastian opened the door wider, letting her in. Meche walked in and they looked at each other.

“Um... I’m sorry too,” he admitted. “I made a big deal out of nothing. Do you want... I can put the map up right now and we can go for a ride afterwards.”

“Sure.”

Sebastian made his way around a mound of dirty clothes Romualdo had piled up near the entrance to their room. He found the box with the thumbtacks and put the map right above the one of France, where he could look at them before going to sleep at night.

“It’s really awesome. Thanks,” he told her.

“Sure.”

“I’m going to spend a whole year in Europe after high school. I’ll travel all the countries and see all the major cities. All the way up north, so I can see the midnight sun.”

He knew he’d talked about this a million times before, but he liked to hear himself say it. It sounded more real when there was somebody listening to him. Like it could really happen; that these were not the ramblings of a kid. He had the guidebooks; he had the maps; all he needed was a bit of money.

“Cool.”

“You should come with me,” he said.

Meche sat on the floor of his bedroom, stretching her legs and smiling.

“All the way to Europe?”

“All the way. We can run away together.”

“I think we tried that three years ago.”

“We went to Coyoacán without permission. Daniela forced us to turn back and kept bawling her eyes out because she was afraid her dad would find out she had skipped class.”

“It was pretty silly.”

“No, but we should do it. This time for real.”

“What the hell would I do in Europe?”

“What wouldn’t you do?” he said, sliding down next to her. “It’s not like we’ve got it super amazing here in Mexico City.”

Really, what was there for them? For him? This miserable apartment. The school where nobody liked him. Isadora, who didn’t even know he existed. The accumulated tedium of hundreds of days piling on top of each other.

“Yeah, but going looking for the midnight sun sounds...”

“... crazier than casting spells with records?” he asked. “I don’t think so.”

“It sounds cold.”

“We’ll buy parkas. Blankets. What do people wear in Norway?”

“Bear furs, probably. What do people eat in Norway?”

“Bears.”

Sebastian laid down on the floor, his hands behind his head. Meche also lay back, her hands folded over her chest.

“People don’t eat bears,” Meche said.

“They do. But you shouldn’t eat polar bear liver.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll make you sick. Too much vitamin A.”

“You’re making it up.”

“I am not. I read it somewhere.”

“There’s a song by Ella Fitzgerald called Midnight Sun,” Meche said.

“Everything is a song with you.”

“At least it’s not bear meat.”

Sebastian felt himself getting sleepy. This was their usual banter. This was their usual selves. He could relax now. He could be happy. The pain gnawing him all day long would subside.

“How does the song go?”

“Mmm... let me see,” Meche said. “There’s a meadow in December, ice and oh darling... something about lips close by. People kissing basically...”

Meche coughed.

“Of course, she sings it much better than I do,” she concluded.

“You’ll have to play it for me sometime.”

“But jazz is boooring,” she said, imitating him.

Sebastian let out a loud
hmpf
and turned his head to look at her. They were side by side, but Meche’s legs were pointed in the opposite direction and she was tapping her foot to the beat of an imaginary tune. Probably Fitzgerald’s song. She was staring at the ceiling.

He pictured Meche walking down a long hallway, towards an airplane. She was ahead of him by a long stretch. With every step he took the distance between them seemed to grow until Meche was just a tiny little smudge against a bright opening. Then she was gone.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“What?”

“Something serious.”

“Then definitely not.”

Meche glanced at him. When he didn’t laugh, she turned her body completely towards him, leaning against her elbow and looking down at him.

“What?”

“Promise you’ll never leave.”

“Leave where?”

“Anywhere,” he said. “Without me, that is.”

“Gee. Should we stitch our sides together like artificial Siamese twins? Hey, isn’t there an episode of the
Twilight Zone
where that happens? Or is that the one of the guy with two heads?”

“I’m not kidding.”

Sebastian sat and looked down at her sternly. Meche looked like she was about to laugh. But then she nodded instead of chuckling.

“Alright.”

“Never go.”

“I won’t.”

Sebastian hugged her and did not understand why he suddenly felt so sad. He closed his eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

He thought he could hear the chords of a song. Fitzgerald’s song as he imagined it without his ever having heard it. Slow and lovely and somewhat painful.

“There is a
Twilight Zone
episode called Midnight Sun,” he said as he stood up, offering Meche his hand.

“What’s it about?”

“Earth has moved from its orbit and is heading into the Sun. Everyone will be cooked alive.”

“Creepy.”

He pulled her up and Meche smiled.

“Let’s go for a ride,” he said.

They trotted downstairs and grabbed the motorcycle. Meche jumped behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders, then rested them on his waist.