Tita’s Sister’s Boyfriend
by Melissa Llanes Brownlee
Tita floats in the pool of her sister’s latest boyfriend’s house, the sharp smell of chlorine, a halo around her head, the water a warm blue cocoon, echoing the sky above her. Tita’s sister’s boyfriend is a chiropractor (or something), but she doesn’t care because he’s got a pool, a big house with a huge living room, a couch large enough for her entire family, and he always rents her fun horror movies filled with sex and cannibalism, even though she’s only twelve. She likes going over to his house. He’s got money and is nice to her, buying her all the candy she wants. They even sleep over sometimes, Tita crashing on the larger-than-family couch, as Nymphomaniac’s in Love screeches from the biggest TV she’s ever seen, Twix and Big Hunk wrappers scattered across the coffee table, empty cans of root beer stacked in triangles. Tita’s sister’s boyfriend is not a bad-looking guy, not too tall, Tita’s head reaching his broad shoulders. Tita’s sister likes the haoles, always dating some kind of doctor or chef, sometimes some tourists, other times some athletes. One time, she flew to Chicago to marry some guy, but that didn’t work out. When he swims laps in his pool during the day, Tita admires his golden skin, his muscles - not too big - carving their way through the water. She pretends not to stare, but he always smiles and makes her feel good.
Tita’s sister invites him on a camping trip with their family, and he’s excited, packing his Bronco with an inflatable mattress because he doesn’t have a tent. He meets them down at the beach, and Tita is happy to see him. He sneaks her a few Big Hunks, knowing her mother would be angry if she knew, and Tita smiles, happy he remembers her favorite candy bar. She watches him hang out with her father, awkwardly assisting with the BBQ pit, trying not to get meat splatters on his nice beach clothes, and she smiles. Her sister notices, pinching her behind her arm, reminding Tita of her place. After dinner, she wanders away from her family talking stories over the fire, her sister’s boyfriend draping an arm around her sister—her dark hair, her dark face, nestled in his golden triangle. She drifts to the edge of the water, the low tide uncovering pools shimmering in the moonlight, and Tita wishes she could just float in the dark, the water a cold black cocoon, stars prickling her skin, as she dreams of her dark hair nestled in golden triangles.
BIO: Melissa Llanes Brownlee (she/her), a native Hawaiian writer living in Japan, has work published and forthcoming in The Rumpus, Fractured Lit, Flash Frog, Gigantic Sequins, Cream City Review, Cincinnati
Review miCRo, Indiana Review, The ASP Bulletin, Craft, swamp pink, Pinch, Moon City Review and The Threepenny Review, and honored in Best Small Fictions, Best Microfictions, and Wigleaf Top 50. Read Hard Skin from Juventud Press and Kahi and Lua from Alien Buddha. She tweets @lumchanmfa and talks story at melissallanesbrownlee.com.