from tampa to l.a.

I spent Thanksgiving in Tampa, Florida with my family. I knew I was going to get my period and my period is awful. I usually spend the day in bed, trying not to move, willing myself to fall asleep. I knew drinking wouldn’t help. But my cousin lives in Tampa and he greeted me with a shot of aguadiente. My cousins remember that in Colombia I drank fifteen beers a day and a lot of aguadiente and never got drunk. That’s what they remember.

I stayed for two days and drank margaritas and beer and wine and aguardiente and sangria and early Saturday morning, we came back from the bars at 3 a.m. and I didn’t sleep because I had cramps. I got up at six a.m. to go to the airport and cried in the car.

I waited to board the plane and thought about the last man I loved. I was thinking I loved him while in that much pain. I was thinking how I should’ve given it a chance. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve said, Yes let’s be a couple, when he said, Let’s be a couple.

Hours later, still on my way to Los Angeles, my cramps were gone, I felt better and thought I made the right choice, about leaving, about not being a couple.I was forgetting. Which is true. I was forgetting a lot of it. I guess that’s what happens when I’m alone in an airport at six a.m. and want someone to hold me. What is also true is that I was thinking of him because he was the last person I was crazy about and that was years ago.

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