"Trade school is the best thing that's happened to me," I said in what might be the latest exaggeration. But the night was young, I had an extra pep in my step and it turned out the bar I'd been kicked out from, for tossing a handsy dude over the counter, had forgot all about me. I sat before Alina and Jean, my chest swollen by how pleased I was after two months of kicking ass.

Alina took a swig of her beer before asking, "Better than having an official boyfriend?"

Okay, that deflated my original statement just a tad. I would've much preferred if trade school had happened where I could snuggle up close and personal with my boyfriend. Not a word I'd ever thought I'd need again.

"Aside from Pace," I clarified with the wave of a hand. "I have finally found my calling, which is to be better than men at something I'm not supposed to excel at."

The highest point of my two-months-long classroom training had been the first practical experience. The instructor was one of those old school macho manly men who scoffed at catching whiff of anything feminine in their vicinity, which meant as soon as I stepped into his shop's threshold his asshole-a-meter ran all the way to max and its little arrow pointed directly at me.

In my mind, I went through every exercise Gina had taught me to reduce my stress and anxiety levels, which typically preceded one of those outbursts that had got me fired more times than I could count with one hand. I didn't want to ruin this second chance Lance had given me, so I decided to be the bigger person here.

Until the instructor reached the end of his first lecture, before making us do our first hands-on welding practice. He opened his big, fat mouth and said, "Let's make sure not to weld like little girls, okay?"

And then I showed him how big girls welded. Perfectly straight, with even amounts of material at the right temperature, guaranteeing the structural integrity of the joint.

The other students in the class, most of them fresh out of high school, had never touched a welding torch in their lives. The one guy who had, who was in the class to get a recertification, took one look at my work and declared it to be hot.

Even better was seeing the instructor's jaw drop.

"Sorry," I had said while removing my visor. "What was that you said? To weld like a girl? Because in my experience that's the best way to do it."

The snippy, sexist little comments stopped after that. Then again, it was because he started ignoring my existence altogether. It was beautiful.

"Welding, huh?" Jean mused, nodding to himself. "It's hard work but it can pay well."

The energy coursing through my body propelled me to lean forward, as if about to impart a great secret. "Okay, that's not quite my dream. I want to open my own business, something like papi had back home. A one-stop shop for industrial solutions."

"Whoa," they said in unison.

I had arrived to a destination that was meant to be all along.

The plan some ten years ago or so had been for my sister and I to inherit papi's company. After everything went to shit, I thought I had to learn from Cata and just find a new goal that matched my new life. Which was why, aside from having to pay the bills, I'd gone through every possible job I could. I'd been a cook, a waitress, a hair stylist, had a brief stint at a tattoo and piercing parlor, worked for a landscaping company, an animal shelter, a meat packer, a food delivery service. Construction had been the closest to something that felt truly mine.

Trade school just reminded me of what I'd always wanted.

I drank the rest of my beer in one big gulp and slammed the empty bottle on the table. "I'll buy us another round."

Jean shot to his feet. "I got this."

A laugh bubbled up my throat as he scrambled towards the bar. "You think all that enthusiasm is because tonight is my last one in Edmonton or because he's really afraid of what happened last time, replaying before his eyes?"

"Definitely the latter," Alina said, grinning. "Es que a veces das miedo, mija."

What was it that Cata called it? Ah, yes. I was dramatic. Life with me sometimes took the twists and turns of a slithering telenovela.

"I'm sorry," I said to Alina. She'd got thrust with me only because she'd once been papi's employee. Not an easy task, especially the first couple of years, when I'd had much more outrageous episodes than the one that had got us kicked out of this bar. "It isn't easy dealing with me and the fact you aren't family means you shouldn't have put up with my shit."

She reached forward and grabbed one of my hands. "Nada de eso. Para mi eres familia."

Ah, that made my eyes well.

"Besides," she continued back in English, since her husband joined us again. "Your dad's help was instrumental in me leaving the country and coming to Canada. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have met the love of my life."

As they kissed, my mind filled up the blanks in between her words. Alina had worked at papi's company since she'd graduated from university and as far as I knew, she really liked her job. In fact, she was doing the same type of structural calculations at her current workplace, where she'd fallen head over heels for the coworker who'd later become her spouse.

But that was a very shortened version of the events that had led her here. While she'd been happy with her position in papi's company, she'd lost both parents to a robbery that had gone terribly wrong. Without any other close family, all Alina had wanted to do from that moment was leave and never return.

Papi had helped her with all the references she'd needed, and with the paperwork. It was why he'd thought of asking her to help me and why she got saddled with me for years.

"And I'll be forever grateful," she said to me, while looking deep into the eyes of her partner.

"Oh, stop it. You're going to make me miss Pace."

It was Jean who turned to me, eyebrows up. "I thought you already did? All I've heard for weeks is Pace this and Pace that."

Maybe I did mention my firefighter boyfriend a few times here and there, after I'd been on the phone with him or while remembering something he'd said.

"Thanks for the beer," I said, completely ignoring everything he said and nursing the cold bottle in my hands.

Maybe I was blushing, because my whole face felt so hot I almost rather pour the beer on it than down my throat.

That was another thing joining trade school had been excellent for. Pace and I had simply been moving too fast and while we were together those wonderful days between our first date and the second, it had all felt so right it was hard to take a step back and look at the situation objectively.

Two months away, in which neither had managed to escape to meet in the middle, had been all the perspective I'd needed to know if I was being hot-headed about the guy or if the feelings were real.

The result of my careful examination, which had even extended to a couple of sessions with Gina, was that I really, really liked the guy.

"Okay, if you're gonna keep smooching in front of me you're going to make me miss him even more." I pulled my chair back and stood up, giving the couple a stern look. "I'm going to the restroom and when I return, stop showing off."

Alina saluted as if she were a soldier.

The women's bathroom was even stuffier than the air had been at the table. After I finished my business, a glance in the mirror confirmed that in the past few minutes I had gone from woman to tomato.

I washed my hands and set the water in the faucet to the coldest option to wash my face. Thinking about Pace always got me hot, but this was something else. It was as if my body knew I was going to see him tomorrow and was trying to acclimate me to the volcanic temperature we were sure to create under the bedsheets.

Then I turned around to grab some paper napkins and the whole world around me swayed.

Never mind, I was just drunk.

Wait a moment, I'd only had like three beers. It was enough that of course I wouldn't drive to Alina's after this, but not to the point where I struggled to get my bearings. I had to grab onto the sink with one hand and brace against the wall with the other to force the room to stop spinning.

"Whoa, con calma," I told myself, closing and opening my eyes as if that would help the images adjust.

It took some navigating to make it back to the table, where I pushed the beer away. "Turns out I'm tipsy. Can we get food instead?"

"Already?" Alina's face scrunched up with the same confusion I felt. "Man, here I thought we were going to go all out tonight."

I ended up going all out on a greasy burger and fries combo instead.

"One day," I assured them as they fed each other fries. "I promise Pace and I will take revenge."

"I am so looking forward to that," Alina said.

"Yeah," her husband added. "I never thought the day would come when Coralina Diaz would be all swoony over a guy."

Alina rested her chin on her hands. "But this guy is special, and not just because you've made sure to inform us about, oh, two million times."

I swiped the rest of her fries in retaliation.

During one therapy session with Gina, I had allowed myself to admit a painful truth I hadn't wanted to explore. It was the list of differences between my ex and Pace.

It was a fact, and not vanity, that I'd been popular in high school. Twin sisters caught people's attention everywhere we went, and even more because we were both pretty. But Cata had never cared about her appearance and how it could get her ahead in the world when she had a brain like hers.

Me? I enjoyed the attention. Basked in it. I played up my looks and my athleticism. I showed my parents' wealth off. I hung out with the cool crowd and became their queen. And every queen needed a king or queen beside her.

In my case, the king found me. Rodrigo was another one of the popular kids, not because he was rich and flashy but because of his way with words. When he opened his mouth, it had a way of making people feel like they were in the presence of a future president.

I had gravitated to him just the same as the other girls did. But I was the only one he pulled at. His standing in school improved when I became his permanent arm accessory. He had enjoyed the attention I brought him, maybe even more than I did, and that should've been a strong hint.

It took me a very long time to realize our relationship had been built upon his benefit. Dating, having sex, our political activism, it had all been for clout, one way or another.

So, where my ex had used me until he'd almost killed me, Pace had saved me.

Not just in the literal sense, of pulling me out of a car wreckage. Not just by being there for me through my crises. Not even for lending me his truck so I could drive up to Edmonton for two months of trade school, even if it rendered him a pedestrian during that time.

No, it was because he'd woken up the part of me that felt alive. That looked forward to the future. That dared to dream.

If I hadn't met him, I would've continued down the path I was in, when I almost choked one of my new coworkers. A path that wouldn't have earned me a sponsorship to trade school, the first step towards my new, old dream.

I couldn't wait to get back to Silver Grove tomorrow and see him again. It would be the first step towards the life I wanted to live.