Alex took the bus instead of walking to college.

Monterrey is particularly known for five things: carne asada and cheve, being ridiculously conservative but hypocritical about it, a myth of marriage between cousins (that was also not a myth), having crazy weather that changed every five minutes, and summer heat waves that would allow you to fry eggs off of the pavement. Today, the latter characteristic was making itself quite known with 49ºC so, despite Alex’s love for walking, he’d rather take a chance on the bus and enjoy some AC, even if he had to share the trip with the “new fish”.

It was also nice to be distracted by something. The call on Saturday had left him with a lot to think about. Not much of it good.

As the bus crossed the archway to the university and turned for the bus stop, he wondered if he could hole up in the library, pick a very cold spot, and do some reading before class. However, that plan would be swiftly be moved aside by Eva, who was waiting him at the bus stop.

“God damn it,” he mutters. “How did she know?”

Alex sometimes forgets that he understands people because he abuses the power of an ever present narration. Other people understand their peers by simply being attentive, and making an effort. It makes a big difference.

“Shut up, smartass,” he says under his breath, spying through the window his friend. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, but he will have it, because he knows better than to deal with a relentless Eva.

He had been avoiding her calls all weekend. After they had hung up with Angela, he had received a lot of calls from Eva, but he just didn’t feel up for it, so he did the most mature thing he could think of: screen her calls and texts.

As he steps down, Eva just stands up, lets a sigh out and urges him to come along. He follows her.

“Well, a psychic you are not, or else you would have avoided me,” she says jokingly.

“Never said I was,” he argues. “Angela started that.”

“At least now I can make sense of a lot of things,” she muses. “We always did think you were psychic, you know? You were always so crazy prepared, knew so much about us (and everybody else), could find lost things you hadn’t even seen before, called us out on our bullshit in an instant like you could read our minds! It was insane. Now I get it.”

“You could have said this the day I told you. Is this some delayed reaction sort of thing?” he asks. “I thought you’d ask about why I haven’t picked up your calls or… you know, about you getting everyone to gang up on me?!”

They are on the hallway that leads to the library, a big expanse that has columns to the left looking out to the garden and big glass square windows on the right, each window with a little ledge where most people would sit to study or gossip. It’s a nice place, where the sun doesn’t hit, where you can easily enjoy the greenery and, hence, normally filled with passerby. Miraculously, there is no one there to hear Alex’s outburst.

Eva stops and looks at him. It’s the first time he actually notices her face and sees she looks tired. Tired and sad. She motions towards the library windows, and he sits with her.

“I didn’t put into perspective how much the narration has shaped your life,” she says. “I don’t even think I’ll ever understand it fully but, ever since you told me until now, I’ve been thinking on it, and about you. I am acting in response to that… and maybe I took things overboard, for which I am sorry, but I promise you I understand a little more than you now… I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning: your narrator might know a lot but, he is limited and you forget that,” she says with a smile, leaving Alex a confused mess.

“I don’t… follow?”

“The narration is about your story, not anyone else's, so it just lets you hear what might be of interest to the current situation you are in. When did you find out I was waiting for you? You looked resigned when you stepped off the bus, so you did know, you just couldn’t avoid me,” she says, rightly.

“He mentioned you right as we entered college,” he answers.

“At the point of no return. The moment for most discomfort for you, and the one that would make the story more interesting,” she says with a laugh. “Never make life easy for your protagonist, they say, right?”

Alex is left thinking about it. He is used to the constant voice around him, he has grown so accustomed that he, once again, as forgotten to question how it works. Wasn’t he studying Communications and Literature to get those exact tools?

“You are saying I will be trapped in it no matter what,” he says annoyed.

“Basically. You CAN choose, the narration reacts to you and all your choices will evolve into the narrative. No matter what you do they will play a part, because you are the main character,” she muses. “The thing is that, since you are the main character, it will only tackle what interests you, depending on where you are and in a way that makes narrative sense.”

Alex has to pause. That is a lot of information. All this time he has thought he is in some predetermined narrative despite the narrators (my) omniscience, it could change everything.

“How… how do you know this is true?”

“Because…” Eva pauses and lets her head lay on the glass window behind her, looking for something to cool her down. “Because I’ve been testing it. And that is why I am sorry! I am so sorry, Alex! But I couldn’t tell you! Can you imagine how you have reacted to that?”

“You… wait… HOW?!”

“Moritz,” she says flatly, placing her hands over her face.

“What?!”

“It started the night you told me you had him in your class!” she says. “I thought you’d do something about it or tell him off, and that’d be it. But then he appeared on MY CLASS, and I thought you were SO screwed. That German Golden Retriever would worm his way into our lives and stay there until he got his paws all over you. And so I waited.”

“For what?”

“For the Narrator to tell you! For him to inform you we had met, so you could do your move,” she answers, moving forward and her tone frantic. “But then… nothing happened. You didn’t text, you didn’t call: nothing. So I waited the for next day and… Moritz is there again! And the worst part? He was a delight! The kid was nice, smart, funny and SO lost. People were treating him like a piece of meat, and I was the only normal person in the room, which is saying much, so he took a big shine to me and… I am sorry, that’s when I invited him to lunch again and I waited again, this time for your plan with a side of wrath. But again, no messages except your plan for the speech and...”

She is laughing now, she looks positively insane, but Alex can’t help but ask, “And?”

“And that’s when you text me your little plan for the speech!” she says, still laughing. “I mean, sure, that was a solution, to just cut him off being mean to him. But you still hadn’t mentioned the Narrator or me meeting the guy so… I didn’t tell you about lunch. I waited to see what happened.”

She is looking at Alex directly now and she grabs his hands.

“I wish you had seen the shock on your face when he waved at me,” she says. “Like, yes, I am sorry! I shouldn’t have sprang that on you! But it proved so many things. And I saw you talk to him and I knew you were screwed: don’t make that face that is a topic for later. And it got even better because… the next day he told me you were going to be friends. Even if he kept saying you were so smart and handsome —don’t make that face, you are hot, idiot— he said he was happy being your friend which meant: you had a chance to tell him off and you didn’t! So you are busted there.”

“I don’t…” he starts and Eva places a finger on his lips.

“And then there was the talk with Angela,” she says. “It wasn’t until she lied that you reacted. You were so happy to see her, we all were, but Carlos and I knew you are the one who misses her most and your face was all sunshine… but suddenly you went SOUR. It was a total 180 and then you called her out! And that’s when I knew: you have been constantly reacting to the narrator when he should be reacting to you. Of course you don’t get all the information, he feeds you only what’s important for YOUR story in the way YOU see it, but on timings that make sense from a narrative perspective. It helps you solve things for others because in the narrative, the Narrator is aware that he is your power, so you can USE it, but you don’t know how to use it on your own because you are such a passive person… or at least that is my theory. And again, sorry. I am really sorry, but at least you got free coffee.”

Alex is shocked, and he should be. Eva explained his relationship to me better than he has processed it during his whole lifetime. Maybe I should narrate her life instead!

“Oh, do shut up, douchebag,” he barks.

“Take it he confirmed it,” Eva says excitedly.

“How are you… so good at this?” Alex says with a laugh. “I AM the media and literature student, you are a graphic designer!”

“Alex, you really underestimate the amount of fanfiction I write and consume,” she answers. “I might even be a better writer than all your pack of Paradiso worshippers. Nothing bad with it, though, great book I just prefer YA stuff.”

“I hate you.”

“I am so glad you don’t,” she says, “for a second I thought you actually might.”

They remain quiet for a second, just taking it all in. Then Alex grabs Eva’s hand, and he feels her squeeze. He squeezes back.

“Anyway, this is what I have been trying to tell you, Alex. You might be able to use it in your favor to move the story where you want it to be.”

“Sounds good.”

They stay like that for a while. People start to fill the hallway and they can hear the uni slowly coming alive. Alex only comes early on Saturdays for his theatre rehearsals, so morning aren’t usually this lively for the place. It is nice.

“We should get up,” Eva says, doing exactly that. As she is moving Alex remembers something else.

“Eva…" he says, she just turn around with curiosity all over her face. "Why did you believe me? Like... the Narrator stuff, in the first place."

She laughs.

"Are you kidding me, Alex? We live in Latin America and we are Mexican. This is the true land of fantasy and surrealism," she says. "My mom has performed egg cleanses on me, people touch children as not curse them still, they walk on their knees from all over the country to visit a Virgin, we do altars so the dead come join us each year, we actually became independent because we didn't want to be independent, almost all our favorite food had some ritualistic origin, and I am pretty sure I have had the spirit of my grandma come to me in dreams to point me toward things I've lost; that's just what's on the top of my head! What's a Mexican without a little belief in magic or the surreal? Someone being able to hear the Narrator of their story is not the weirdest that could happen."  

Alex chuckles and keeps staring. Eva tilts her head.

"Something else you want to ask?"

"Yeah," he says a little more quietly. "About Saturday... what you said about pushing the German onto me because…”

“I meant it,” she interrupts, looking at him straight in the eye. “Yes, I was experimenting with the Narrator. But I also meant what we said on Saturday. You told me in your story Moritz isn’t your true love, the narration declared it so. That is fine. I still think he is good for you and that he is a good guy. Being near him seems to do you good. Ever since what happened to your gran, you have changed so much, Alex. When it comes to him. so far, I can almost see you again. I can’t explain it. I just, see you as I have always known you, so… I stand by what I said.”

Alex had no words for that.

“I also like him a lot, and he showed me some of his work over the week and he is an extremely talented designer, no wonder he got a full scholarship to come here! You should give him a chance,” she give him her best smile. “Anyhow, I am going to the Garza Sada, I have to print something. See you at lunch!”

Eva leaves and Alex just stares at her back, feeling a void on his stomach. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he also thinks Moritz might be good for him; that is exactly why he doesn’t want him anywhere near. The last time he thought someone was good for him, it had left him a mess. There was no need to make it worse. Hoping only makes things worse.