Page 8 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

There it is again, that instinct of hers to immediately apologize for existing. Like she has to justify every inch of space she takes up in the world.

“Nothing wrong with being prepared for literally anything,” I say, keeping my tone light. “You never know when you might need a backup formal gown, hiking boots, or an emergency inflatable raft, right?”

Her eyes widen, and then she lets out a surprised little laugh. The sound makes something stir in me. I want to make her do that more.

I try my best to awaken any psychic Professor X powers I might have and communicate to her with my expression: You don’t have to shrink yourself around me. You’ve got this.

“Are you feeling ok? You’re making a weird face,” Cai says, concerned.

Well, there goes that attempt. I rub the back of my head. “Yup, I’m good, just feeling a little hot, I guess.”

“Well, my brother-in-law, Rey, will be outside any second now. Ready?” I nod, and we begin to walk, and then she stops suddenly and turns to me. “How are you around chickens?”

Rule #4

IF THERE ARE CUBANS AROUND, EXPECT CHICKENS

CAI

Walking out of the Miami airport hits like a wet towel slapped across the face. The humidity is thick, sweat beads on my skin in an instant, and my curls are flung into full rebellion. I’ve lived here more than half my life, and it still catches me off guard every time.

“Holy Humidity Batman!” Sonny says next to me, echoing my sentiments exactly.

I pull off my hoodie, and it’s not until I see Sonny stifling a laugh that I remember I threw on the first t-shirt I had handy, usually reserved for sleeping in: my soft, worn Powerpuff Girls in Action t-shirt.

“What?” I ask him. “You got something against Blossom, Buttercup, and Bubbles?”

Sonny now smiles openly and raises his hands in surrender. “Not at all! I just realized who you remind me of.”

“Who?”

“Buttercup,” he says.

It’s my turn to smile now. “She was the best one.”

“And the one with the most spunk. She was always my favorite,” he adds, and pulls off his own hoodie.

No silly cartoon tee here; Sonny’s in a t-shirt, tight around his biceps, chest, and shoulders. His skin is smooth onyx, and his arms are long and muscular.

I have felt warmth and welcome emanating from Sonny since the plane, but now I’m taken aback by how hunky he is, and I don’t think I was imagining others eyeing him as they walk by.

The realization makes me suddenly self-conscious. I wonder if passersby are suspicious of what this attractive man is doing with a short, chubby woman in a faded Powerpuff Girl tee. His little flirtations earlier were probably out of pity; I basically cried in front of him within the first thirty minutes of meeting him.

Before I can dwell on this any longer, I hear honking and blaring reggaeton. I know before I even see the silver minivan, Rey.

“Cayetana de la Cerda, as I live and breathe,” he says as he gets out, circling the front of the car, and picking me up in a bear hug. “How kind of you to make time for us mere mortals,” he teases.

“My reasons for not visiting were less holy and more financial, but I’m happy to see you,” I say honestly.

Rey had practically grown up at our house. He’s a few years older than me and went to school with my sister, Alejandrina. He lived just down the street, so he was always popping over, usually around dinner time, conveniently enough.

Alex was beautiful, popular, and way out of his league. Rey was the goofy, brainy kid who wore Star Wars T-shirts and could quote every line from The Princess Bride. At school, she never gave him the time of day. But he didn’t care. He just kept showing up, making my family laugh, fixing things around the house, and treating my parents like they were his own.

Slowly, stubbornly, he wore her down. In her first year of college, Alex finally agreed to go out with him. The rest, as they say, is history. Now they’re married with two kids, and it’s honestly hard to picture one without the other.

I asked Alex once what finally changed her mind. She smiled and said, “Never underestimate a man who can make you laugh every single day.”

I almost added “and who worships the ground you walk on,” but I kept that part to myself. I wonder if I’ll ever get so lucky as to know what that feels like.