Though she would never have said it, my aunt was most likely thinking the words low class as she picked out clothes for me. During that summer she did her utmost to please and advise the smiling, talkative, and entertainingly bold boy that I was, and ultimately I let myself be loved, I accepted her good intentions naturally, though at first I acted defensively. I distrusted that affection that seemed to come out of nowhere, and I resisted her criticism. I was very sure of myself, I was happy with the life I led, and I didn’t think I needed her words or her help.

The first night, after an entire day of playing on the beach, my aunt sent me to off to the campground’s showers. I didn’t want to go, but I obeyed. When I got there, I felt uneasy. My heart pounded in my chest, and a strange fear came over me. At home, to avoid my grandmother’s complaints about the water or gas bills, I almost always showered with my mother or brother, sometimes all three of us together. And while one person washed their hair, the other scrubbed with a washcloth, and we played, spitting water or throwing soap suds. We shared an intimacy that, I guess, comes with poverty. This shower was exclusively for me, and it was so far from them, my family, that it was perhaps the first time I really felt abandoned.

I slept in an old A-shaped tent. Though it was out of style then and had a pitched roof that didn’t handle the coastal winds very well, it was everything a kid imagines as “camping.” I shared it with Javiera, the older of my two cousins, who was twenty-five. To me, she was the prettiest of the three. More so now, idealized in my memory, just like the A-shaped tent.

I had a crush on Javiera, and during that summer she was a kind of role model for me, the way friends’ older siblings often are, or certain teachers. She seemed beautiful and mysterious to me.

Back then I wouldn’t have used this word, but now I think it’s the one that best describes how I saw her: dark. Inside as well as out. Her thin, curveless body, her pallid skin, her gray eyes, black hair, and her nails painted navy blue—all those things were little reflections of her personality. Silent, solitary, hermetic.