Taming Romeo by Rachelle Ayala

the towel from the hamper, letting the pill package fall in deeper. “So, how’s Tita Elena?”
    Mama takes the towel and hangs it over my desk chair. “She’s fine, but tells me you and Romeo?”
    She makes a pointy motion with her hand up.
    “We’re friends.” I pull my covers back. “Is she okay?”
    “Yes, thank God Romeo got there when he did. She’d been calling him all night Monday and he wasn’t answering his phone. She wasn’t feeling well. Thought she had indigestion, so she went to bed, but she couldn’t sleep because Romeo hadn’t called her back. She even asked us to call you, and you weren’t answering. She was really upset, but we reassured her that maybe his battery was dead or he was out of range.”
    A chilly fog rolls over my shoulders and the dull ache in my head expands. Now it’s my fault she had the heart attack. If I hadn’t been with Romeo, he would have gotten to her earlier.
    “Anyway, she called him in the morning and he answered. He thought she should go to the hospital because by now she was complaining of chest pains.”
    “Stop. Please.” I throw myself under the bed sheets. “I know what you’re getting at.”
    “He told her everything.” Mama pats my shoulder.
    And she told Mama in turn. I’m doomed.
    “I’m sorry, okay? Maybe everything’s telling me to go back to Boston.” Well, everything except the fact Eric ignores my texts and pretends I don’t exist.
    “Maybe, but Tita wants to meet you. She has a message for you.”
    “What kind of message?” Like stay away from my son or I’ll kill you?
    “She didn’t say, but we’re letting you out of work tomorrow so you can visit. Romeo’s bringing her home from the hospital and you can go with him.” Mama peels the bed sheets back and beams, as if her job of ruining what little sleep I can get tonight is done.
    “Is she truly okay? I don’t want to upset her further.”
    “She’s fine.”
    “I don’t know what she wants with me.”
    “You won’t get any clue from me.” Mama points with her chin to the door. “I gotta go.”
    I palm my forehead. What the heck just happened?
    The door clicks and she’s gone. I wait for her to pop back in with another thing, but when five minutes pass and she hasn’t returned, I extract the pill from the hamper, remove the packaging and package insert, and tiptoe to the kitchen. I wrap the pill in a napkin, and tuck the colorful package with the prominent words ‘emergency contraceptive’ inside a used cereal box and smash it in the trash compactor.
     The noise of the compactor grinds like a chainsaw on speed. I slide the tissue with the pill into my robe pocket, grab a bottle of water, and scramble back to my room before anyone comes out to complain.
    Time to read the package insert.
    My phone lights with a text message from Romeo: Heard your mom spoke to you.
    The banana express works fast these days with instant messaging and cell phones.
    I text back: Yes, she told me. What does your mom want?
    Romeo: She wants to give you some advice .
    Me: Do you know what it’s about?
    Romeo: No.
    Me: Does she blame me?
    My phone rings. Romeo calling.
    “She doesn’t blame you,” he says. “Nobody does. But I had to tell her everything, going back to kindergarten when I gave you that dandelion.”
    “Ohh. Emm. Gee. Everything?”
    “Well, abbreviated,” he says. “I didn’t tell her we were planning to elope on prom night.”
    “Good. How, uhm, much did you tell her about… about Monday night?”
    “That you stripped for me, almost gave me a blow job, and creamed all over me.” He chuckles in the background.
    “I still owe you that blow job.” I clamp my mouth and bite my tongue. Too late.
    He’s laughing so hard I bet he has tears in his eyes.
    “I didn’t just say that, did I? Blah, blah, blah,” I mumble. “I’m so tired I can sleep through a Justin Bieber fan girl stampede.”
    “Ha, ha, you’re still the crazy Evie I love. See you