I lost my lid at lunch. Actually have lost it all day long. I needed to talk to someone.
I even resorted to dialing my best friends numbers...Arelys and David. It's like I went back to 10 years ago and how they made everything ok. They were my rocks. No one answered. I left voicemails that will probably make them doubt my sanity.
I drove around town for a bit, but my chest felt tight and I started sobbing. I don't know why. I wasn't thinking anything other than feeling trapped and hopeless. I pulled over in an empty parking lot.
I frantically looked in my purse for something with sharp edges. Credit card didn't do it. Pen didn't do it. Damn me for cleaning out my purse and car. Nothing around me.
There, in a tiny compartment, laid my tire pressure gage. I looked at it for a few seconds, flipped it over...and found a sharp edge in the most unlikely of corners.
I hit a new kind of low today. Crack addicts have nothing on me. I'm better than this. Or not.
I kept climbing endless flights of stairs. When I finally reached the 9th floor, the doors opened, almost like I was inside an elevator. My best friend David was standing there and almost looked shocked to run into me. It was awkward and quiet. He didn't give me the hug he usually gives me...the same hug he's given me since first grade with a strong smooch on the cheek. It was strained, and inside I felt like sobbing. We had been best friends since we were 5...but I guess me moving away from Puerto Rico and rarely keeping in touch with him had finally taken it's toll. He was wearing his scrubs (he's a nurse) and asked me if I was there to visit lil Cristina Roman. She was a thing younger girl from church that used to follow me around when I was in PR, looking up to me and such. Cool lil girl. Anyway, it seems she had gotten into some kind of auto accident that destroyed her face. I felt awful, though I really don't know why...I hadn't been that close to her.
We walked into her hospital bedroom right as her mom was walking out. I liked her mom, Norma. She took one look at me and gave me a limp hand shake and in no way seemed happy to see me. I felt sick to my stomach again...that's two people that apparently got used to me not living in PR anymore and had no idea how to treat me. I leaned over her hospital bed and Cristina's face was wrapped in clear, cling wrap paper. Her face looked pained, and her body thin. I couldn't look at her longer and left the hospital.
Roy was meeting me downstairs, and we were walking down a nice street somewhere in the northeast with row homes and trees lining it for blocks. The leaves were that poignant shade of dull orange...maybe late October, early November. It was cold and we had our hands tucked in our pockets. He asked if I wanted to go have a few beers at a local bar around the corner, to which I said sure...but I was nervous because I heard it was a rough crowd. I didn't have a good feeling. He was wearing this big, dark blue coat and he zipped up higher, shivering slightly while saying "It'll be ok".
We made it as far as the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the bar before I heard him mumble some curse words and yelling me to run. I felt a burn on my back, shoulder and right arm at the same time I heard shots ring out. I kept running fast, screaming for Roy to talk to me. I knew he was hit too but I could hear him running behind me so I didn't turn to look around. Pretty soon I made it to a gray house and started knocking on the door. A beautiful woman with Native American features opened the door. I was taken aback by her beautiful eyes, dark and scary...her full lips...sensuous. She asked me where Roy was, and I looked over my shoulder. I was alone. I started sobbing and the pain on my shoulder was worse, blood was dripping everywhere and I felt nauseous, weak. She told me to come inside, that she was Roy's wife and would take the bullets out while he got home. Three kids came out of their rooms...a girl and two boys. They stared at me wide eyed as she took out 4 bullets of my arm and shoulder blade, then poured whiskey over my wounds.
There was a knock on the door and it was Roy, pale and bleeding worse than I was. I sat down and tried to act calm, to hide my panic. She was out in the doorway tending to him and I heard the kids whispering to each other about my hair. I looked over at them and the girl piped up "You have really nice hair. Can you curl mine like yours?" I nodded towards the woman and said "If your mom says it's ok, I'll fix your hair". She rolled her eyes and said "She's not my mom. She's dad's new wife." I flinched and looked down for a few seconds, composing myself and the youngest boy was staring intently at me. I smiled softly at him and he said "At least we like you. We didn't even get a say in anything when he picked her. You seem nice." I leaned forward and gave all three of them a kiss on the forehead. I told them it was great to meet them, and to take good care of their dad. I slipped out the back door into the alley. Some of their friends were pulling into the house along with Roy's mom. She gave me a quick hug and asked me if I had met his wife. I just nodded and then his wife was there in the alley with us, out of nowhere appearing between us.
The wind blew through her hair, and she gave me a serene look. His mom said "She truly is a beauty. So feminine, so delicate...some kind of wonderful. That's what he says when you ask him about her. He just says she's some kind of wonderful." I nodded and said "She's beautiful".
I got in the back of a car, and it sped off. I leaned my forehead against the cold window and it had started to snow.
It was your birthday, your 12th one. You had called a few minutes ago, and as I answered the phone, I looked out the window out towards your house. There you were, on the phone, leaning on the porch talking to me. My heart skipped a beat and for the 5,908th time, I stuck my hand out my window and told you to look my way. I saw a smile spread on your face and wave back at me as you said "I'll be right there to show you my birthday gifts, Yari!"
I hung up but kept my eyes on you, waiting for the routine to unfold. Our days together had started since I could remember. Our parents had been best friends growing up, so it was normal for us to grow up together...not to mention you were my boy next door...or down the road. You get the point. So there you were, hopping on your bike and tucking something in your pocket before speeding down the hill from your house and onto the road to mine. Pedaling fast, as if you knew I almost couldn't breathe until you were spending time with me. My best friend. The first crush. Our first love. Love? At that age? We used to hold hands since we were 5, remember? You'd tell everyone I was your girlfriend and I'd blush into a pile of nervous giggles. Our folks used to joke about when we eventually got married. Except it wasn't really a joke. Everyone assumed we would. I digress.
You threw your bike on the lawn and skipped inside my house, like you had all your life, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. My heart thudded but I acted cool, calm, not even amused. We went to my room and you pulled my boom box to the bed, kicking your flip flops off and laying next to me as we shared a pillow. "Look at what my grandma bought me!", you whispered as you pulled out a new cassette. The cover art was red with a shell in the middle and the words "Re" on there too. I squinted and saw that it was Cafe Tacuba, after which I half shrieked in excitement as we popped it in. It was magic. It was loud. It was foreign and alive. It made everything seem colorful. I loved it. I loved you. Us.
You said your favorite was "Ingrata"...But I loved "Las Flores", mostly because that's when you reached for my hand and intertwined your fingers with mine brushing my thumb with yours as we stared at the ceiling. You then turned sideways to face me, I did the same. I thought maybe this would be my first kiss. At 11, I thought I was long overdue for mine...stupid kid. You showed me your hand and you had this new, shiny silver ring with coral designs on it. Little red and blue waves and a kokopelli figure in the middle of a circle. I thought it was the most awesome thing I had ever seen. You said your folks got it for your birthday too, that you had wanted it for a while every time you visited the local surf shop. Did your folks know the kokopelli was a fertility deity? Did you? I did, but I didn't say anything...no one likes a know it all.
I tried it on, and it was too big on all my fingers, except my thumb. It looked perfect on my thumb...so I sighed and twirled it a few times and pulled it off to give it back. I looked up and you were looking at me smiling and leaned over, kissing the tip of my nose. I'm pretty sure I died a few dozen times all over, but remained the cool rock on the outside. Then, as simply as you would give a friend a piece of gum, you said "Keep it. It'll fit on your ring finger when you're older. You're my girl, already." I gave you the tightest hug I've ever given anyone in my life, I believe...and then we went to play Nintendo at your house. The days went on as usual. Life went on as usual.
It's been fifteen years, now in May, since you gave me your ring. I've moved countless times and those I've loved are countless more. This morning I was cleaning out my room out of every memory I ever had of my childhood. Pictures, toys, everything I've kept for years. I opened my jewelry box, and there it was. Your ring. I slipped it on my ring finger, and it fit. I kept it. Because some things are always good to remember.
I used to be so in tune with my mind...and I trusted my memory completely.
Long trips were boring. Short trips were boring. Walking around the house alone was boring. Being an only child, was boring. So there I was, finding ways to keep myself amused for as long as I can remember. Staying out of people's way. But I didn't mind it. I liked being alone...having my peace and quiet. Maybe that's why I decided to start memorizing my surroundings, both at home and on drives. Or maybe it was my crazy thought that someday, I'd lose my eyesight. How glad would I be that I memorized how to do everything without the aid of my vision then? Yeah. At 5 years old. I was afraid of going blind.
So I started closing my eyes during the day and walking around my room. Bumping into things, tracing them with my hands and making mental notes to remember where everything was...how many steps it took to get from point A to point B. Then my exploring expanded to the rest of the house, with my mother asking what on earth I was doing now. Now. I was always doing something off setting, I suppose. Soon, I could find my way around easily in my bedroom...around the house...the yard...my grandmother's house...with my eyes shut tight. It made me listen more and I started appreciating the sounds around me...like the wind rustling through the mango tree and how the avocado tree had a humming coming from it, which accompanied with a sharp sting to my neck, taught me to stay away from beehives.
The drives. Again, I would have my head leaned against the back of my seat, in the back of my dad's Oldsmobile. I started off small, of course. Just playing a game with myself in which I'd close my eyes as soon as we took off from our house, and in my head I'd try really hard to place us, without opening my eyes. I'd think "Ok, this curve feels familiar, so we must be passing the corner store and the bright orange house must be coming up...that tree with the red flowers is ahead. When I open my eyes, I will have timed it right and I'll be exactly in front of the tree." I was. The rush of excitement this gave me, to know that if I payed enough attention, I'd always know where I was without using my eyes, was what made this probably one of my favorite passtimes as a kid.
I don't remember, exactly, when I stopped doing this. But I do know one thing.
Tonight, I was coming back from the bar at midnight. A little tipsy, very sad, melancholic, lonely and my phone was dead. I leaned my head back on my seat and felt a smile creep up the corners of my mouth. I knew exactly what I was doing. I took a deep breath and stole one last glance around me before shutting my eyes. The familiar glare from the headlights of incoming traffic and the dull shine from the light posts down the streets. I let my body relax, knowing exactly what move came next...I could see it. Going under the train tracks, veering slightly to the right at the fork...Turning into Pearl Street, I could picture the houses, the businesses, the abandoned field and I kept counting in my head how many light posts we passed, how many seconds more until we'd be reaching Fitch Avenue. I felt the car slowing and slightly turning left and I said "In a few seconds, we'll pull into the front of my house". I counted in my head, felt a few more motions and opened my eyes...
We were home.
I need to listen to my heart. I need to memorize everything I hold dear. In case I go blind one day...I'll still find my way back to it. To you.
I woke up elated, ended up mad. I woke up so happy, finished it sad. I wanted to write, but I forgot. Wanted so much...this is all I got.
I cannot fight the battles alone Or carry the weight uphill by myself It is not my job to have enough faith, To pretend I am a perfect woman.
It is my right to feel, to love, to live. To encourage, to demand, to support. To speak freely and listen equally so. Understood? No. But to understand.
I'm tired. Weight of the World is on replay. The blade is cool. You find peace. I cannot, obviously, bring you any.
"She said I think I'll go to Boston... I think I'll start a new life, I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name.
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather, I think I'll get a lover and fly him out to Spain...
Oh yeah and I think I'll go to Boston, I think that I'm just tired I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind... I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset, I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice...
You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah..."
The sound of rain drops hitting the banana leaves and my tin roof at night...and the cool breeze that came with it through my windows, bringing me the sleep of those who have no cares in their mind.
Sleepless nights where words overwhelm and thoughts race.
The blood in my veins...the language of my tongue...the one that finishes a thought...the other half of my being.
The rush I feel in the pit of my stomach when I'm the next one in line to get on a roller coaster half ready to chicken out...but so ready for the ride.
Like that pang I feel in my chest when I Brandi Carlile screams at the end of The Story...or when that feeling of...alive when I hear the solo in Weezer's "Perfect Situation".
You're the moon and the stars, and the humbling feeling they give me when I look up at the desert sky...and how it almost feels like they're shining solely for me.
The sound of a spoon clinking against the edges of a cup, early in the morning...when my grandmother was up making breakfast and starting her day...
The taste of water after a long day at the beach...sweet, fresh and soothing. Like you almost forgot what water really tastes like when it's not from the ocean...
Like the smile my grandfather gave me when I made a good move while playing dominos on a Sunday night, out on the roof of the house. That smile that said he was both stuck with a crappy move because of me...that I had foiled his plan...and that he was also proud of how quickly I was becoming good at beating him.
That huge ball of fire setting down, sinking into the horizon at Huntington Beach...and the innumerable sparkles dancing across the beach as I stood on that pier thinking I would never witness anything as beautiful in my life.
You're the laughter that I've held in for years, that now flows out of me like a morning song out of a Scarlet Tanager...feeling both naturally and foreign to my ears...Robert Browning said it best: "What are the voices of birds, but words, our words, only so much more sweet?"
That first bite of cheesecake...
That first sip of Diet Coke in the morning...
That upside down kiss between Spiderman and Mary Jane...
That one you close your eyes...and see yourself raising your unborn children with. That non existent house needing to be fixed up. The unfought arguments over silly things. A future both real and completely imaginary.
The one you knew existed somewhere, out in the universe, but never dared to look for.
The one you feel you've met in a previous life...and all you're doing now is reconnecting...filling in the blanks.
That sigh. That smile. That absent glance out into nothing, half hoping to find those pair of eyes staring back at you.
All. Nothing. Everything. You are. You will be. Completion. Revival. Pain. Love.
So, a friend of mine tagged me on this list thing on Facebook. I still can't wrap my head around the FB concept...not really sure why I even have one. Alas, I rather share this on my blog than do it on Facebook and get 36 "likes" and 20 unnecessary comments about people pretending to know what crap's all about.
Yeah, I had a cup of bitter this morning. Excuse me, if you don't like it.
1. A movie that makes you laugh - Anchorman
2. A movie that makes you cry - Awesome tie between (500) Days of Summer and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3. An actor you consider sexy - Oded Fehr
4. An actress you consider sexy - Judy Garland
5. A great director - Juan Antonio Bayona
6. A great adaption - Shawshank Redemption
7. A feel-good movie - Friend Green Tomatoes
8. A feel-bad movie - Sin Nombre
9. A movie that scares you - An American Werewolf in London
10. A beautiful movie - What Dreams May Come
11. A really bad movie - Teeth...
12. A movie you wish more people would see - Paper Heart
13. One actor from Ocean's Thirteen - Pitt
14. An actor or actress you would like to marry - Tatum Channing
15. Best cartoon/animation movie - The Emperor's New Groove/Finding Nemo
16. A good dystopic movie - District 9
17. A WW2 movie - Jakob the Liar
18. A teenage-movie - Breakfast Club
19. A-America-is-best-country-in-the-world-movie - Independence Day
20. A great documentary - Born Into Brothels. (Watch it!)
21. A Las Vegas movie - National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation
22. A great 90s movie - The Matrix
23. Best Hitchcock movie - The Birds
24. A Tarantino movie (sorry I couldn't help it) - Pulp Fiction!
25. The first movie you remember seeing - The Wizard of Oz
26. An actor you consider fantastic - Sigh. Heath Ledger.
27. An actress you consider fantastic - Kate Winslet
28. A movie that rocked your world -
29. A (great) Swedish movie - Låt den rätte komma in.
30. A great European movie - Undertaking Betty
31. A movie you would like to see - Star Wars...first one.
I'll rip my red bow from my hair, and light the canvas on fire. No one said it would be fair, Quickened exit, running tired.
It's a two way street, life. You give and you take. I don't like putting myself out there, and people expecting my honesty...at all times...only to be re-payed in dismissal when the coin turns.
We all have our demons...secrets, fights, confusion...Confusion. What a word. I hide nothing, ever. For better or worse. What you see, find, hear and talk about with me is all you get. That's me. So there I am, vulnerable. Open. Exposed.
It's not fair to get the door slammed on my face.
We are all our own brand of tired. No man is an island. No man's problems are unique to him. No one is in life alone. You want understanding? You have to let people in.
Ugly sides. We all have them. But it's time to shut down. I have to be up in 3 hours. I'm not going to sleep. Just lay here and give in to this gut instinct telling me to shut out everyone again. To go back to square one. Love all, trust few...if any.
Everyone's out for now. No one is allowed close to me anymore.
Last night's paint wouldn’t come off my hands. My hair refused to settle, So a tangled mess it is. Like tiny snakes coiling around my face, Getting in my eyes Crying ‘Revolution!’
My favorite shirt had a stain, So I stared at the closet Time ticking, Tick Toc… My feet are swollen… Late for work. No time for thoughts. Car smells like ass and Won’t…refuses to start.
No breakfast. Hands shaking. Stupid diabetes, stupid sun in my eyes. Thirty calls waiting for me, Everyone forgot how to work. Hour long support call, To be made feel dumb. Die, Bob. My stomach is in knots.
Forgot my meds. I'm sad.
Trying to put on make up, I broke the spongey face sponge. Now it looks like it has a mouth. Garble garble. I giggle. Danny says I’m weird. You’re weird too, Danny. Dropped the foundation all over my pants, At least they’ll look blemish free? Boss cussing and slamming mouse, I sit here wondering why my car smells.
I need to walk away from my desk, NO COFFEE IN THE BREAK ROOM! Chatty redhead bores me, Says she makes good coffee. Made some from home, That tasted like coconut And looked like tea. You talk too much, woman, And your coffee is weak. Sit back down. Wait for lunch…
Traffic, almost died, hot outside. I got trapped in middle lane, And had to take the long way back. Food was cold, lettuce was warm, Diet Coke was watery. Strike two. Guy turned illegally, I swerved, Cussed out loud. Thought of mom. Thought of Dad. Thought of soon. Elevator broke at work, Climb up three floors. Can’t eat lunch, phone is ringing. On call weekend. All coworkers gone. I like Thor. Just not his hammer. It’s Friday the 13th…
You stepped out in the rain where I had been standing in for hours, looking at you through a glass window playing a show to a coffee house crowd.
I was afraid to look in your eyes, so I just stared at the floor around your feet and whispered "I'm confused". Your voice was quiet, apologetic and short..."I know. I'm sorry."
I wiped my nose with my sleeve, and realized for the first time since I was standing there that I was cold. I nodded, still looking at the floor. "Ok" was all I managed to mumble back before I turned around and started walking down the streets. Rain sloshing everywhere. I wasn't sad. I was angry. My phone vibrated and I read your text message "You knew this was what you signed up for." I shoved the phone in my back pocket, you were right. What could I say.
I hailed a cab, the driver was an older Cuban man with a big cigar and postcards of La Habana all over his roof. I told him to take me to the party and that he smelled like my grandfather, sweet vanilla and tobacco smell. He dropped me off at a coliseum and gave me $5.00 to get me something to eat, and for a second, he was grandpa. He drove off and I felt like I missed the opportunity to catch up and see how he was doing.
I walked into the party, and there were beautiful glittery purple balloons everywhere. Everyone was dressed in black and neon blue, dancing to smooth jazz and wearing flip flops. I walked to the center of the dance floor and looked up at the disco ball, sparkling specks reflecting all over my face. I missed you already. I pushed you out of my head and pulled a flask out of my jacket pocket, and downed it in one try. I threw the flask at a blonde across the dance floor and hit her on the nose. I was escorted out, into the desert. An owl was on my shoulder and it told me to go sleep...and I told it to fuck off. It blinked and flew off. I giggled. I missed you more.
So I went to the end of a rock formation, and heard coyotes howling in the distance. It scared me. I looked at your picture in my phone and let my body tip forward off the cliff and down into whatever awaited me at the bottom.
You are here to share to share the highest highs...and lowest lows.
When the going gets tough...We lash out in self defense. Things are lost in translation, and we're left confused...or are we? Maybe we're right in our initial assumption. After all, we're told to trust our gut. Our initial reaction to something. Maybe it is too much to expect the world to be created in 7 literal days. So if you can't rely on simple, unadulterated faith in something...and all you have is your primal instincts screaming the way it would watching something burning to the ground...
What is there left to do but to shut your eyes tight, grip your pillow...and wait for the world to stop spinning? Hope you don't die in the process?
"Love isn't always there. Love isn't born, it grows."
I remember the slight hurt and shock I felt when I heard mom say those words to me when I was 10. She had been talking about how stubborn she was when she was engaged to dad. That he annoyed her with his persistence, and his being 4 years younger than her. I cringed further when she stated she had accepted dad's engagement ring because she felt pity for him...because it was the right thing to do. Shortly thereafter, during a small argument about dad not having enough money to buy her an ice cream cone, she had returned the ring to him...leaving him devastated in the driveway of the old house.
That night, my grandmother had given my mom a stern talking and shout fest. Told mom that the world didn't revolve around her pride and capricious ways. That she had to grow up and do the right thing...stop toying with a man's emotions. To pick...once and for all...all in or all out. Mom went to my dad the next day and felt bad that he was so broken so she asked for the ring back. Dad was beyond happy...time moved forward and they got married. Mom says no sex was had during the honeymoon, and even after that it was sporadic. She didn't feel any attraction to him, just fondness. Years went by. I was born. I remember them always holding hands everywhere...dad worshiped the ground mom stood, pretty much. I remember her devoting herself to me and doing a lot of the silent treatment to him.
When I was 12, Grandma died (Mom's mom) and things got strained between my folks. A few years later, when I was 16/17, Dad left us. Mom was mess. At first I blamed her, for being cold to him...for being, in nice words, a real bitch. I thought she got what she deserved. To be alone and miserable and forgotten. But...then I thought of that conversation. Of how she hadn't even married him out of love, just duty. So I asked her...why did she care now? She simply said "I grew to love him. To need him. To consider him my best friend, my partner and my prince charming. I grew to trust he would be there until we would die. Yari, I got on my knees and begged him to stay, the last night he was here. ME. On my KNEES." I just looked away and said "We're better off, Mom".
That picture up there is one of my favorite picture of my parents. I don't know when it was taken...but they look happy. Both of them. Care free. Somewhere between no love to heart breaking divorce, that picture was taken. Oddly enough...that's how they look now. That happy.
Was all the other bullshit necessary, to find happily ever after?
I was living in Pennsylvania again. In the little row home on Oak Street…where the melting pot of the Caribbean took place in Allentown.
I had three sons, who were not home yet at 7 p.m. and I was worried. So I zipped up my heavy coat and headed out into the snow covered alleys to look for them. For some reason I had a picture of them in my pocket, already sensing something had gone wrong with them. Three olive skinned boys, all with olive skin and big brown eyes rimmed with dark lashes. Their heads a mess of soft, loose curls and their smiles all accentuated with deep dimples on their cheeks. I teared up looking at the picture and my chest tightened up. The oldest looked about 13, the middle one looked 11 and the little one looked to be 8. Where was he? Why wasn’t he out here looking for our sons in the snow? I checked my cell phone and no texts or calls. He didn’t even notice I left the house to look for them.
I heard kids yelling out in the distance, and then two gunshots. Silence. I ran and kept falling face first in the snow, and I screamed out “Abdiel!” No answer. My eldest wasn’t answering. I finally reached the alley and simply saw two bodies laying in the cold, a few feet from each other and their blood staining the snow covered pavement. I screamed. I knew. I was late. I saw Abdiel running away from me, even though he heard my cries and screams. My pleas for him to stop. Another teen was trying to hold me up as I walked to the bodies of my younger sons. He kept rushing me with the story, how some of their friends were playing with a gun and accidentally shot my sons. That his friend didn’t mean to do harm…that he would call an ambulance and be right back. I sank to my knees between their bodies, my eyes darting from one face to the other, looking for life. I kept mumbling, and half screaming “Xavi, talk to me, papi, please open your eyes. Mi amor please, wake up, bebe” to my youngest, his mouth and face covered in blood, his curls matted with it. Nothing. My middle one was on his stomach, his backpack crushing him and blood pouring from his chest under him. I shook him, “Jay, please papito talk to mami, breathe mi angel. Dios mio por favor, baby just open your eyes”.
I knew where my oldest son was going, and I kept calling my husband’s name asking him to run and stop him. I left him voicemails, he wouldn’t answer the phone. I texted him. No reply. I just kept thinking, my only one left is going to find those other boys. They’ll shoot him too. So I started running down the street and around the corner where I saw him go. I kept turning corners and coming upon empty streets as the snow piles grew heavier. I finally reached the street where he was, and saw him throwing himself with a knife into the middle of a group of older boys. I screamed his name again, to stop…But all I had left after a few steps was my 13 year old, on his knees with the blade in his stomach. Looking up at me crying and unable to talk, lip quivering. I felt the world go black as he gasped out “Mom…”
I was in the middle of English class, and I was 15 again. The classroom was dim and I could feel the rain beating the roof hard. Muggy afternoon in Puerto Rico. My English teacher, Mrs. Rios, asked me to come to the front of the class. I tried to get up, but my knee wouldn’t bend. My left knee was stiff and hurt like it was burning up from the inside out. I kept trying to get up but had no strength, so I kept wobbling back to my seat in pain. I finally was able to get up, and my best friend Arelys was carrying me from one arm…and David from the other. I told them “I’ve missed you guys so much. We haven’t seen each other in years. You were always my best friends.” Arelys said “Of course I’m here for you, mama. Thinks with me are always the same”…David leaned over and kissed my cheek, whispered “Te quiero, mi negra”. I was so happy I had my two best friends from 1st grade back that I forgot the pain, but I realized I was walking on a slushy surface. I looked down and the floor was a giant pancake covered in slippery syrup. I laughed as Mrs. Rios started screaming in Spanish “Oh my God, the floors are pancakes. Everyone pick it up before the syrup runs through the floor and it makes a hole!”
But I saw myself sink, almost like in quicksand, up to my neck in the middle of the pancake. Except now it wasn’t a pancake. It was soggy wood that had scratched my body all the way to sticking into my neck, almost severing my head off. I looked around me at everyone’s horrified face…probably because my head had detached completely and now lay in a pool of blood. I felt my lips getting cold, and the last thing I saw was a stray dog, sitting at the corner of the classroom…that now looked like a porch. It stared at me, licking its nose.
