Mistou came out for my birthday, which happened to coincide with Easter, or Semana Santa, as it was known in Panama. She came into town two days before my birthday, on Holy Saturday.
“You wanna go to Mass tomorrow?” I asked.
She’d been raised Catholic, as well.
“Not unless they have a 2pm brunch Mass with house music and mimosas,” she teased.
“I have a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread and four bottles of champagne in the refrigerator,” I replied. “Let’s have our own church service in bed.”
Mistou had managed to score two full weeks off from work. I think she may have told them that she had some earthquake-related business to attend to. I was just happy to have that much time with her. I felt like we knew each other pretty well by that point, but to be honest, our relationship was primarily long-distance and mostly in our heads. I didn’t want to go all-out Hopeton on her, but I felt like we needed a stress test or two to help figure out where this was going.
We wound up spending Easter having a late lunch at the club with Mundo and a heavily pregnant Gianina.
Gianina told us that she was so sorry she wasn’t in any condition to do any type of hardcore socializing.
“Normally, we would have thrown a big party to introduce you to all of our friends,” she said to Mistou. “You’ll have to come back later in the year. Maybe for Christmas?”
Mistou reached out and squeezed Gianina’s arm.
“I’m just glad I’m getting to meet you,” she replied. “I’d love to see if I could make it here over Christmas. I bet the parties are incredible.”
Mundo pulled me aside and told the girls we were going to go over to the bar for a minute. As soon as we were out of earshot he hissed, “Holy fuck, bredda- she is hot as fuck! I was so wasted that night in Miami I didn’t even realize.”
I scowled at him.
“Seriously, Cabrón. You need to marry that girl. Lock it down now- and keep that Bitter Brón shit away from her!”
After lunch, Mistou and I headed back to my place for a little rest and relaxation, then we got ready around nine pm to head out to Wilkie’s neighborhood, Rio Abajo, where there’d be tons of street parties. Caribbean-style Easter, just the way we liked it. Wilkie, a group of his friends and their girls took us to a block that was the perfect amount of rowdy and secure. We all paid a few American dollars for entrance to a cordoned off space that had a few tables and chairs set up around the perimeters, as well as a few makeshift bars, for quicker access to drinks. We spent the night going back and forth from the VIP-ish area to the streets.
A few hours into the night, Mistou and I were standing slightly outside of a crowd of people dancing to 90s dancehall. I was standing behind her, clasping her waist. We were both chugging icy cold beer from bottles and moving in time to the music.
The deejay threw on one of my all-time favorite Wayney Wonder/Buju Banton combinations.
You may not be a movie star. You may not drive a big, fast car.
I was ready to lose my mind. I couldn’t control myself.
Clutching Mistou a little tighter, I leaned my head against her shoulder and shouted in her ear.
“I love you!”
It should be obvious by now that I really have no game.
She turned her head and looked up, still keeping her back towards me.
Then she wrapped her arm around my neck, her lips touching my ear.
And she yelled, “I love you too, weirdo!”
We danced until four in the morning- the start of my thirty-sixth year on this planet.
