Maritza & Eric #3 - "Weekend Visit"
“How’s that?” Eric called over the sound of the music, bending down by Maritza’s ear.
“Yeah, I’m good, thank-*herk!*” Maritza replied. She could feel herself blushing. “Sorry, I’m trying not to hi-*HIC*-cup in your ear.”
Eric laughed. “Stop apologizing!” he told her. “You obviously can’t help it.”
Ain’t that the truth. But Maritza smiled shyly and replied, “I’ll-*huk!*-try.”
Over the summer, Eric comes to spend the weekend with Maritza. Female hiccups.
“Maritza!” Josie called from her position at the window. “Your boyfriend is here!”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Maritza muttered to her older sister, very much not playing around. She moved to the window, peering over Josie’s shoulder at the non-showy-but-still-wildly-expensive car that had just pulled up in front of their apartment. She fussed once more with the strands of curly dark hair that she’d pulled out of her updo to frame her face.
“And of course, this will throw us girls into the path of other rich men,” Josie said in her best British accent.
“Ew, you make her sound like a gold-digger,” Pilar remarked from across the room.
“Excuse me, it’s from Pride and Prejudice!” Josie shot back.
“So what?” Maritza replied, bantering with her sister to keep from feeling anxious. “Mrs. Bennet kinda was a gold-digger.”
Josie took a breath. “For the last time, if it wasn’t for Mr. Bennet’s irresponsible financial planning—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Maritza broke in, cutting off the all-too-familiar rant at the start. “So we’ve heard.”
“Did Jane Austen do Wuthering Heights?” Pilar asked innocently, sneaking Maritza a wink.
“Both of you are hopeless, you know that, right?” Josie said.
Maritza’s felt honest-to-god butterflies in her stomach as she got a text alert. She pulled it out of her jeans pocket and read the message from Eric:
Hey, I’m here. Do I need to get buzzed in?
Maritza started to type back that she’d just come down, but Josie nabbed the phone out of her hand while Pilar scurried over to the door. As Maritza insisted, “Give it back!”, Pilar slammed on the buzzer.
Maritza’s phone chirped again, and all three girls paused. “‘Thanks—coming up,’” Josie read aloud.
“Jose, seriously,” Maritza insisted.
Josie sighed. “I was waiting for you to ask nicely, but whatever,” she drawled, tossing Maritza her phone.
Maritza pocketed her phone and crossed to the door, where her sisters maddeningly crowded in behind her. She swung the door open right as Eric was lifting his hand to knock. There he was, all 5’10” of him and his wavy-haired goodness. Maritza felt herself smiling.
“Eric, hey!” she exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic but not too eager. “So glad you found it okay. Come on, let’s—”
But of course, Josie and Pilar weren’t going to let her get away that easily. “And what are your intentions with our sister?” Pilar asked. She could be such a little shit.
Eric’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. “‘Intentions’?”
“Ignore them, they’re trying to provoke me into an aneurysm,” Maritza advised, taking his arm.
“Is this a She’s All That scenario, because I’d have a problem with that,” Pilar went on.
Eric chuckled. “Pilar, right?”
This threw her a bit, and Maritza smirked as her little sister scrambled for a retort. In the meantime, Josie offered Eric her hand. “Josefina Campos—charmed,” she said.
“Nice to meet you,” Eric replied, shaking it. “Maritza’s told me plenty of stories about you.” He gave Pilar a slight wave, adding, “You too, Pilar,” before turning to Maritza. “You said you wanted to show me around?”
“God, yes,” Maritza replied. “Let’s go.”
They headed down the hall towards the stairwell. Maritza could feel her sisters watching from the doorway, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of glancing behind her.
Once they were in the stairwell, Eric paused. “Kiss?” he suggested. “Now that we’re out from under the microscope?”
Maritza laughed sheepishly. “I’m sorry about them,” she said, letting him wrap his arms around her. “They’re both equal parts loving and annoying.”
“I thought they were great,” Eric told her. He leaned down to kiss her.
Maritza hadn’t seen Eric since the semester ended, but she definitely hadn’t forgotten the sensation of kissing him. She’d missed this.
As their lips parted, a “*huck!*” snuck out of Maritza. “Excuse me,” she said, blushing a little as she brushed her knuckles across her mouth.
Eric gave her an amused smile. “You okay?” he asked.
Maritza took a slow breath, and then another, waiting with her hand on her chest. Reassured that the hiccup was a one-off, she said, “Yeah, all good. Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”
“Nervous?” Eric said, slipping his arm over her shoulder as they continued down the stairs. “What about?”
Maritza shrugged, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know,” she hedged.
Eric had just come back from spending half the summer in Italy, and it had given Maritza a warm feeling when the first thing he suggested after recovering from the jet lag was driving out to see her. They’d been texting regularly—of course Eric had an international phone plan—and she’d enjoyed hearing all about his trip and cool things he’d been doing.
But having him here, not just at Camden College but in her actual city, felt different. The early weeks of their relationship over the spring and their long-distance texting across the ocean was great, but it had felt just a little bit imaginary, like it didn’t fully count. Knowing that, even though school was starting up again in about a month, Eric had wanted to drive two hours just to spend the weekend with Maritza? That felt real.
That’s what made her nervous. It seemed like a real put-up-or-shut-up moment. And here Eric was, putting up. Maritza had better put on her big-girl pants and put up too.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Maritza told Eric as they reached the street and he took out his keys. “We can walk it. That’s the best way to check out the neighborhood.”
“Sure,” Eric replied, stuffing the keys back in his pocket. “Lead on!”
As they strolled along the sidewalk holding hands, Maritza started to relax. In between walking by the big mural on 2nd St. and stopping to pick up some brisket at the barbecue place, they talked about their summers. Eric had already told her a lot about Italy while he was there, but listening to his sweet, dorky enthusiasm in person was much better than reading about it in a text.
“One weekend, my host family brought me along to visit an aunt and uncle,” he said as they ate at one of the tables outside Aaron’s Barbecue. “I swear, we just ate for, like, three hours solid. It was a religious experience, I’m still not over it.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” Maritza replied. “Roman Catholics do not mess around when it’s time to eat. My mom’s working tonight, so you won’t get a chance to see her until tomorrow, but she has three Tupperware containers in our fridge for you to take back to your hotel.”
“Oh my god,” Eric breathed, a look of utter contentment on his face. “I love her already.”
“Speaking of good food,” Maritza said, gesturing with her fork to Eric’s brisket, “what do you think?”
“Mm, it’s fantastic,” Eric replied. “Super tender, and it’s got a really good heat, you know?”
Maritza nodded. “They have their own barbeque sauce here, obviously.”
“Top-secret recipe?” Eric suggested.
“Duh!” she said. She took another satisfying bite of her own brisket, enjoying both the taste and the feel of the spiciness on her tongue. She washed it down with a cold Coke.
After they ate, Maritza regaled Eric with more stories about working in Papi’s shop as they made their way to the park. “The mechanics have been giving me so much crap this summer,” she said. “Every day, it’s, ‘Oh, do they teach you about head gaskets at that fancy school?’ or, ‘I don’t know if I should disturb the academic and ask her to get me a spark plug socket.’ They think they’re so sly about it too. Every single one of them laughs every time.”
“I think your love language might be ‘affectionate mockery,’” Eric remarked. “You sound so happy when you talk about them teasing you, and obviously your sisters are pros at it.”
Maritza chuckled. “Maybe,” she agreed.
Over at the park, a small crowd had gathered to watch a band. Maritza couldn’t quite pin the music down—kinda pop, kinda folk, and did she detect hints of funk in there too?—but the atmosphere was festive. People were dancing and having a good time, and folks were taking advantage of the food trucks and carts dotting the area.
“What do you think?” Maritza asked Eric.
He listened for a moment, a thoughtful but pleasant look on his face. “I can’t make sense of it, and I like that,” he decided.
“Right?” Maritza replied. “It’s like some sort of Franken-band!” He laughed, a sound that made her feel invincible.
“You want some dessert?” she asked, scoping out the options. “I know we don’t have any gelato on offer, but we could do shaved ice.”
“Ooh, that sounds nice,” Eric agreed.
They walked to the raspado cart, Eric’s arm over Maritza’s shoulder and hers around his waist. Her earlier nervousness had evaporated, and now she just felt so cozy and comfortable. At Camden, they’d enjoyed each other’s company very much in private—Maritza couldn’t really picture walking around campus looking all couply like this. What would Eric’s friends make of that?
When they reached the cart, Maritza asked, “Hey, could I get a mango?”
“Strawberry, please,” Eric added for himself.
Soon, they both had a delicious icy treat in their hands. “Okay, that’s amazing!” Eric exclaimed. “I mean, shaved ice is cool, but I wasn’t expecting this. This is art!”
The fluffy shaved ice was lavishly smothered in a homemade syrup made from actual fruit, not just flavoring. Eric’s had visible chunks of strawberry in it, while Maritza’s had mango, and both had been served with a generous splash of condensed milk.
“That’s Mexican shaved ice,” Maritza explained. “Raspado—we do that shit right.” The cold, sweet dessert felt ridiculously refreshing as it hit her tongue, delightful as she swallowed. “This one time, we were-*hiic!*”
Maritza cleared her throat sheepishly. “Sorry. We were at my cousi-*huck!*-cousins’ house, and my Uncle Osca-“hic-ulk!*”
Oof, nothing one-off about this—Maritza had the hiccups. She lay her hand on her chest as she was hit with a hard muffled “ulp!*”
“Are you all right?” Eric asked.
“Um, y-yeah,” Maritza said weakly. “I guess-*hmmk-mmk!*-so.”
Not that there was much point in trying to keep them quiet. Eric had his arm around her. He had to be feeling how her shoulders jerked every time she hiccupped.
He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “Here, let me get you some water,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek before he headed off to one of the food trucks.
Maritza’s nervousness was fluttering back again, which didn’t exactly help with the hiccups. “*huk!*…*hic-ulp!* Crap!” She held her breath, but she could still feel the hard “*mmps!*” and “*ulps!*” rocking her body.
Eric returned, carrying a Styrofoam cup of water. “Here you go,” he said.
“Tha-AN-nks,” Maritza replied, self-conscious but grateful. She plugged her nose and drank it all down, not stopping for breath until she was finished.
“All right?” Eric asked, giving her a hopeful look as he lightly scratched her back.
Maritza barely had a chance to open her mouth to respond before another “*hok!*” popped out. She sighed. “God, I’m sor-- sorry. I guess they’re-*hic-olp!*-pretty stubborn. *huck!*”
“Hey, I’m fine,” Eric assured her. “As long as you’re okay, they don’t bother me.” He glanced over at the band. “Do you wanna go over by the stage? With the loud music, it’s not like anybody would notice. Might help you relax.”
Swallowing a hard “*hmmk!*”, Maritza said, “Okay.”
She let Eric take her hand and they wound their way through the crowd, Maritza trying to muffle her hiccups the whole time. They weren’t super loud, thank God, but they were pretty hard—she could feel her chest bouncing and her stomach pooching out. She wished she’d worn a looser-fitting shirt.
They got close to the front of the stage, a little offset from the speakers so they wouldn’t blast out their eardrums. Eric was right; it was loud enough that nobody was giving Maritza and her hiccups funny looks. Hesitantly, she stopped pressing her lips tightly together. It felt better not to stifle her next loud “*HIC!*”
“How’s that?” Eric called over the sound of the music, bending down by Maritza’s ear.
“Yeah, I’m good, thank-*herk!*” Maritza replied. She could feel herself blushing. “Sorry, I’m trying not to hi-*HIC*-cup in your ear.”
Eric laughed. “Stop apologizing!” he told her. “You obviously can’t help it.”
Ain’t that the truth. But Maritza smiled shyly and replied, “I’ll-*huk!*-try.”
Listening to the music really did help. As they stood there, they started to sway, then to dance, being a little corny about it on purpose. Eric moved like someone who cared more about feeling the music than how he looked dancing to it, which Maritza found really appealing, and Maritza’s body bounced to the beat of her hiccups instead of the bassline.
Soon, Maritza was smiling and giggling, which made her hiccup even more. “Caref-*ulk!*-ful,” she warned Eric as he pulled her in close to dance. “I’m gonna throw-*HIC-ulp!*-off your rhyth-- rhythm.”
“I’m half-WASP,” Eric replied. “I didn’t have much rhythm to start with.”
“You’re lo-OOK-king okay from-*herp!*-where I’m stan-*hic-uck!*-ding,” Maritza countered. “I kn-*holp!*-know you did-- didn’t learn-*HUK!*-those moves in ettiqu-*HIC!*-ette class.”
This made Eric grin. Maritza liked looking up at him to see his smile, and despite her relentless hiccups, she liked the feeling of his hands on her curves.
“You should see me in a ballroom,” he said in her ear.
“G-*huck!*-God yes!” Maritza answered.
He turned her around, one hand holding hers and the other at her waist, her hips pressed against his—Maritza thought they fit each other like puzzle pieces.
Eric Langdon-Reyes had driven out this way for the express purpose of seeing her. He was amused by her sisters’ teasing, he’d walked her streets and indulged at her food spots, and now he was dancing at her park with his hands on her. If somebody had told Maritza this four months ago, she wouldn’t have believed any of it.
Not everybody surprises you with their hidden depths, but some can.
They danced until she was out of breath. Maritza held a stitch at her side, hiccupping hard while Eric guided them out of the crowd.
“*HUCK!*” she hiccupped as they walked. It felt like they were smacking the inside of her chest. “*HIC-olp!*--*herk!*--*HOK!*”
Eric winced in sympathy. “Do you want some more water?” he asked once they were a little further from the stage. “I don’t know if it would get rid of them, but they might slow down a little.”
Maritza nodded through a hard “*HOLK!*” and said, “Ok-*HULP!*-kay.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then hurried back toward the food trucks.
Maritza waited, trying to take some deep breaths while her hand rested on her bouncing chest. “*HUK!*--*HUCK-ulp!*…*HIC-ulk!*”
“Maritza! Is that you, girl?”
She turned at the sound of the voice calling her name. “Li-*HOLP!*-Lila?” she asked.
Lila Aguilar, Maritza’s best friend since forever, was jogging over to her. Short like Maritza but skinnier, with full lips and shiny black coils that she’d pulled back in a ponytail. Lila loved the combo of spiky black clothing and pretty bright-colored makeup—today, she was rocking a black corset and a spiked collar with electric blue eyeshadow.
“Good God, Maritza, what did you do to yourself?” she asked incredulously.
“Be-*HEEK!*-ats me,” Maritza replied. “But some-*HUCK-ulk!*-where betw-*heek!*-een the spic-- spicy brisket, th-*HUK!*-the fizzy-*hulp!*-Coke, and-*HIC-erk!*-the jolt of c-OL-ld raspado, *hok!*--“HIC-olp!* I thi-HIN-nk I did-*HIC-uck!*-a number on mysel-*HUCK!*-self.”
“You sure did,” Lila said. “Goddamn. And anyway, what are you doing out here giving yourself the hiccups? I thought Rich Boy was gonna be in town.”
Maritza sighed through a “*HULP!*--*HERK!*” She said, “I t-*holp!*-told you not-*HUCK!*- to call hi-*HIC-up!*-him that.”
“Is he not a boy and is he not rich?” Lila pointed out.
Maritza could see Eric coming back with another cup of water. Subtlety was hard when you had bad hiccups, but she did her best to shush Lila as he approached.
“Hey,” he said, “you doing okay?”
“Try-*herk!*-tryin-*HOLP!*” Maritza replied. She took the water and drank small sips this time—slowly, between hiccups, trying to get them to chill.
For a minute, all three of them just stood there while Maritza did her best to coax her hiccups into playing nice. On the whole, she was pleased with the result. Her hiccups were still quite a bit louder than they’d been when they started, but they’d slowed to something approaching a normal pace.
“Mm, that’s bette-*HERK!*-better,” she said.
“Yeah?” Eric said, sweet concern in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Maritza echoed, swallowing a strong “*HMMK!*” as she nodded. “Eric, this is L-*ULK!*-Lila. Lila, this is-*HOLP!*-Eric.”
“Oh God, you’re Lila?” Eric exclaimed, offering her his hand in a way that was dorky but still charming. “Of course you are. Sorry—your hair was different in the pictures Maritza showed me.”
“Yeah, my hair changes a lot,” Lila explained. She looked bemused, but she took Eric’s hand and shook it. “Still, it’s not like Maritza’s flush with Puerto Rican pastel Afro-punk friends, right?”
“You never know,” Eric replied. “Maritza’s full of surprises.”
“So is this-*HUK!*-one,” Maritza added, poking Eric in the side. “I would not have exp-*HIC-ulp!*-expected somebody who-OO-se house has a groun-*HMMP!*-nds to have actu-- actual moves.”
He actually blushed at that, just around the ears. Damn, he was cute.
Eric recovered quickly, slipping his arm cozily around Maritza. “All flattering lies,” he told Lila. “I’m so glad we ran into you. Maritza said you were working late. Inventory?”
“Boss-lady closed early,” Lila said. “There was a ‘crisis.’”
He frowned. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Please, Sandra has about six ‘crises’ a month,” Lila replied. “Unless somebody died, I don’t get worked up about it anymore.”
“She keeps a r-*HUCK!*- a running tally in-*HIC-ulp!*-a Google Do-- Doc,” Maritza told Eric. “*HOK!* It’s quite the tale of uppe-*HERK!*-middle-class w-*HOLP!*-woe.”
He made a pained face. “Yikes, that must be fun.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Lila said. “Like, this one time….”
It was fascinating to watch them talk to each other, and not just because they so thoroughly embodied “Home” and “One of the Only Good Things about Camden” respectively. Lila was being 100% herself, because she didn’t really come any other way. And Eric was still recognizably Eric, but with this added sheen of…of like, “socialization mode” or something.
Maritza had noticed it when he met Josie and Pilar, too. It was like his country club training kicked into gear, and he was just that extra little bit more personable, well-mannered, and actively listening. There didn’t seem to be anything disingenuous about it—she bet the same couldn’t be said for some of Eric’s friends—but she definitely noticed how he switched it on and off.
They spent a good twenty minutes talking, sharing stories, and joking. Lila teased Maritza about her hiccups, and after Eric was assured that they weren’t making her miserable, he was pretty neutral on them. Then Lila pulled out her phone to check a text.
“I should go, it’s Jerome,” she said. “I think we might be breaking up.”
Eric had the appropriate non-reaction to this. Maritza had already filled him in on Lila and Jerome’s on-again off-again relationship since 7th grade—regular breakups were just part of their process.
“All right, cool,” he said. “We’ll see you tomorrow. You can unpack the black box on what happened.”
“Yes, lunch,” Lila confirmed. “12:00 sharp, but that’s not white-people sharp, Eric, so you can relax. Maritza knows my haunts.”
She grabbed Maritza’s arm. “Walk me out?” she asked.
Maritza frowned. “Of th-*HUCK!*-the park?”
Lila shot her a don’t-question-it look. “Girl talk, you understand,” she told Eric as she started to drag Maritza away. “I’ll send her back in the same condition I found her in!”
“ ‘Gi-*herk!*-rl talk’?” Maritza repeated skeptically, but she allowed herself to be dragged.
“Shut up,” Lila replied. Once they were a short distance from Eric, Lila gave Maritza a nudge that was more of a shove—in a former life, she probably played rugby.
“Yo, he like-likes you!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t sound s-HOH-o surprise-*HIC-ulk!*” Maritza retorted.
“Not about you—never about you,” Lila insisted, seizing both of Maritza’s hands and kissing them. “You’re my favorite person, you know that. But I mean, I’ve been listening to you talk about that school all year, and then talking about this guy all summer, and I was like, I dunno, man! I wasn’t sure about this dude. I thought, maybe Rich Boy thinks he’s just slumming it with my girl. And yeah, at first, it’s all shrimp towers and diamond bracelets, but then the next thing you know, he’s hunting you for sport on his private island!”
“What ar-*HERK!*-your intenti-- tions with my sis-*HEEK!*-ter?” Maritza mumbled, half to herself. Maybe Pilar hadn’t just been teasing.
“Exactly!” Lila replied. “But that guy? He’s down bad. Look at you. Maritza, I love you, but right this second, you are a goddamn mess and he’s still giving you those puppy-dog eyes.”
Maritza stole a glance back at Eric, who’d turned to watch the stage again. “*HUCK-ulp!* I know,” she said, filling up with gooey, sapping feelings that Lila would mercilessly give her crap over. “I’m-*HOLP!*-down bad t-- too.”
“Well, it couldn’t have happened to better dorks, okay?” Lila told her. “Hang onto him when you go back to school, and don’t let any of the assholes there dull one speck of your shine.” She grinned. “I’d say don’t mess this up, but if he didn’t bat an eye at, like, half an hour of epically bad hiccups, I’m not sure if you can mess it up.”
Maritza punched Lila lightly on the arm, then pulled her best friend into a hiccuppy hug. “L-*HUCK!*-love you,” she said.
“Love you more,” Lila said, kissing her cheek. “Now get back out there and go get him, champ!” One final wink, and then she took off for the gate.
Maritza supposed Eric heard her coming before he saw her—with her hiccups, she was hard to miss. “Hey,” he said, reaching out to entwine his fingers with hers. “You doing good?”
Maritza nodded, swallowing a hard “*ULP!*” She sidled up to him and said, “So goo-*HUK!*-ood.”
He smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
And she was. Hiccups or not, Maritza was so good. She and Eric were down bad for each other, and it was obvious enough that Lila could see it. As they stood there listening to the music, Maritza started mentally planning the rest of her weekend with Eric. She didn’t want to waste a second of it.
