A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,42
stash and I mentioned the hill. So we wouldn’t have to drink from the bottle.” He clinks his cup against mine. “Like heathens.”
I snuggle into Orion’s sweater and drink cider and sample the foods. The bacon chips—crisps—are a fast favorite. So is the view. Another thing I could get lost inside, even with a tour guide like him—and maybe even a new friend—showing me all the ways around.
Orion catches me with my gaze to the sky. “Checking out the stars?” he asks.
I lean back along the slant, my hair in the damp grass, but I don’t care. “I was looking for you. Your constellation.”
He smiles. “That was my dad’s doing and why Mum got to name Flora. Orion is a mythological Greek hunter. Dad has always hunted faraway places. Combine that with a love of astronomy and you get a name kids tease you for in school.”
“It’s the best name. Unique and strong,” I find myself saying.
“Thanks, I like it now. Had to grow into it. But you won’t find me in these skies tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Orion is visible at night in the Northern Hemisphere in the winter months. It comes back again here around early August, but only at dawn.” He bumps my side. “Orion keeps bakers’ hours.”
“I’ll still be in Winchester in August and up with the bread dough. I’ll have to go out and look, if I can even find it between all the fog and city lights. I’ve never been to a good stargazing spot. Too much city in our travels and in Miami, too.” My bright, beautiful home is never dark enough.
“You’re kidding.” Even in the dim, I catch the mock horror on his face. “Your tourist to-do list grows by the minute. There’s a stargazer’s dream spot, dark as sin, a bit of a drive, but still not too far on Millie.”
“I’d like that.” A thick breath, in and out. “It’s only in the last few weeks that I’ve even been able to look up at the stars without breaking down. After my abuela’s funeral, I couldn’t.” I swivel my head, and find him still and waiting. “They call me Estrellita in Miami, around my neighborhood. Little star. Like I’m lighting up the night sky—and the kitchen—while everyone else sleeps.”
“You do,” Orion says. “It shows in your food.”
“Thanks. I need that drive for what I’m going to do when I get home.”
“For your family’s business? I know about those.”
I nod. “My mom doesn’t bake, but she’s a skilled cake decorator. When Pilar graduates next May, my parents want to open a small custom cake shop in another part of Miami. And Pilar and I will take over La Paloma—it means dove. I’m going to supervise the kitchen staff and all the food. And Pilar’s gonna handle the books and business stuff.”
“A winning team.” He reaches out with one finger but doesn’t touch me. “That explains this charm. If all that’s waiting for you at home, I see why it’s hard to be away.”
I sit up, feel for the golden dove. The way my scarf folds, the little bird hangs just below the cheetah-patterned wool. “Being away is like being away from my heart. But it’s my fault. I kind of pulled a Flora times a thousand.”
He hinges up too, munching his Cadbury bar. “I figured they didn’t send you away for three months because you snuck off and ignored your text messages.”
“No, but one day the loss won and I got reckless. I missed Andrés, and Abuela’s death was eating me up. Then Stefanie left. Everything I knew was slipping away and I felt like I had to reclaim my whole city to make it better, grounding myself.”
“And how does one claim a city, then?”
“I ran as much of Miami as I could, for hours. I didn’t answer any messages. Pilar ended up tracking my phone, and found me nearly twenty miles from home. I was lying in some random park on the grass, dehydrated and cried out into nothing. Basically, a mess.”
“Christ, I see why they were so worried. Someone could have robbed you… or worse.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. This is the first time I’ve talked about that night. It feels better than I thought to loosen some of the images I still think about when my hands work into dough. The panic of burning lungs and not having quite enough air, my throat parched into more desert than Florida could ever imagine. And Pilar gently combing out my washed hair before she heated up