Life's A Cappella by Yessi Smith

broken,” she agreed, looking at me squarely in the eyes. “Brave, yes. And a bit too pig-headed and proud for your own good though,” she said, and I smiled, a sad, sloppy smile. “Let me and Trent help you.”
    “Trent?” I asked, and she nodded. “You saw him when I left. He hates me.”
    “He doesn’t hate you, dumb ass.” She smiled at me, a smile that radiated all the goodness that was Camilla. “He’s angry or all butt-hurt you pushed him away when you needed him.”
    “I don’t need him.”
    “ No me jodas ,” Camilla said, the equivalent of saying don’t bullshit me in Spanish. I tried to disagree again, but Camilla continued, “Who doesn’t need people in their lives that love them?”
    “Trent doesn’t love me.”
    “Ha! Chewey doesn’t love you as much as you don’t love him.”
    I did love him. But I couldn’t face his knowing eyes. I never wanted anyone to know who I used to be or what I left behind. But none of that mattered anymore; my mother made sure of it. I only had one choice; to move forward with the same stamina that had brought me this far.
    “Cam,” I started, “I don’t want Trent knowing any of this.”
    “Your decision, but as your best friend, I’m telling you that you’re a stubborn pain in the ass,” she told me, and I agreed. “Fine,” she over-dramatically sighed at me. “I’m gonna go buy us some deliciously greasy Cuban food. When I get back we’ll figure this shit out.”
    “You’re coming back?” I asked, hopeful, and Camilla, my best friend, nodded.
    It wasn’t until I was alone that I allowed my bitter heart to shed a tear. One single tear that screamed louder than a torrential downpour of tears.
    I needed to change my frame of mind from despair to anger. I was familiar with anger. Anger I could deal with. With that in mind, I turned on Metallica and let the words from So What envelop me; a form of meditation I hoped would settle my distraught heart. With each word, I replaced the morbid thoughts of plunging from my balcony to the reasons I left Alabama.
    Because I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I took a shower. I stood under the water, letting it pound on my back and face, hoping for some clarity. I wanted, yearned, to go back to yesterday or, at the very least, to give up. Just throw my hands up and admit I couldn’t do it. Life with its twists turns and inevitable drops were too much. Let someone else deal with it.
    But I wasn’t built that way. No, I was built to fight. I may never win, but I’d try.
    I reminded myself that I had the galls to not only leave everyone and everything I knew, I had also managed to make a life for myself. I had graduated college, a feat in and of itself. I didn’t just have a job, I had a career. I had an apartment that had become my home. I could extend it and make it Shayna’s home too.
    Shayna, my little sister. My little sister whose eyes had seen too much. My little sister who had in her short life already endured too much. I hadn’t been there for her from the beginning, but I would make sure the rest of her life wasn’t so heinous. I’d take care of my little sister.
    As soon as I got out of the shower, I could smell the food Camilla had bought us. Croquettas , white rice and beans. My stomach grumbled and demanded, and once again I found myself grateful to have Camilla in my life. She hadn’t fled like I hoped and expected she would. She had stuck it out with me, for me. For now.
    Before serving myself, I shoved a croquetta in my mouth. “Ugh, good,” I told my friend as I rolled my eyes to the heavens in pure enjoyment. And I realized things couldn’t possibly be that bad if I could still find pleasure in something as simple as food. Granted, it was one of my favorite foods of all time, but it was still food. Deliciously, greasy food.
    “Thanks for everything, Cam.”
    “Oh, bite me, Erin,” she said casually and took a bite of the Milanesa steak she had ordered for herself. “So,