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By Root 2015 0

out as much as I could and waited for the feelings to come back to me, to tell me what I should do next, but I was bone-dry, bereft, no visions whatsoever. I started to think that maybe it was like in the books; as soon as I lost my virginity I lost my power. I got really mad at Aldo after that. You’re a drunk, I told him. And an idiot. So what, he shot back. Your pussy smells. Then stay out of it! I will! But of course I was happy! Happy! I kept waiting to run into my family posting up flyers of me on the boardwalk, my mom, the tallest blackest chestiest thing in sight, Oscar looking like the brown blob, my tía Rubelka, maybe even my tío if they could get him off the heroin long enough, but the closest I came to any of that was some flyers someone had put up for a cat they lost. That’s white people for you. They lose a cat and it’s an all points bulletin, but we Dominicans, we lose a daughter and we might not even cancel our appointment at the salon.

By November I was so finished. I would sit there with Aldo and his putrid father and the old shows would come on the TV, the ones me and my brother used to watch when we were kids, Three’s Company, What’s Happening, The Jeffersons, and my disappointment would grind against some organ that was very soft and tender. It was starting to get cold too, and wind just walked right into the bungalow and got under your blankets or jumped in the shower with you. It was awful. I kept having these stupid visions of my brother trying to cook for himself. Don’t ask me why. I was the one who cooked for us, the only thing Oscar knew how to make was grilled cheese. I imagined him thin as a reed, wandering around the kitchen, opening cabinets forlornly. I even started dreaming about my mother, except in my dreams she was a little girl, and I mean really little; I could hold her in the palm of my hand and she was always trying to say something. I would put her right up to my ear and I still couldn’t hear.

I always hated obvious dreams like that. I still do.

And then Aldo decided to be cute. I knew he was getting unhappy with us but I didn’t know exactly how bad it was until one night he had his friends over. His father had gone to Atlantic City and they were all drinking and smoking and telling dumb jokes and suddenly Aldo says: Do you know what Pontiac stands for? Poor Old Nigger Thinks It’s A Cadillac. But who was he looking at when he told his punch line? He was looking straight at me. That night he wanted me, but I pushed his hand away. Don’t touch me. Don’t get sore, he said, putting my hand on his cock. It wasn’t nothing.

And then he laughed.

So what did I do a couple days later: a really dumb thing. I called home. The first time no one answered. The second time it was Oscar. The de León residence, how may I direct your call? That was my brother for you. This is why everybody in the world hated his guts.

It’s me, dumb-ass.

Lola. He was so quiet, and then I realized he was crying. Where are you?

You don’t want to know. I switched ears, trying to keep my voice casual. How is everybody?

Lola, Mami’s going to kill you.

Dumb-ass, could you keep your voice down. Mami isn’t home, is she? She’s working. What a surprise, I said. Mami working. On the last minute of the last hour of the last day my mother would be at work. She would be at work when the missiles were in the air.

I guess I must have missed him real bad, or I just wanted to see somebody who knew anything about me, or the cat piss had damaged my common sense because I gave him the address of a coffee shop on the boardwalk and told him to bring some of my clothes and some of my books.

Bring me money too.

He paused. I don’t know where Mami keeps it.

You know, Mister. Just bring it.

How much? he asked timidly.

All of it.

That’s a lot of money, Lola.

Just bring me the money, Oscar.

OK, OK. He inhaled deeply. Will you at least tell me if you’re OK or not?

I’m OK, I said, and that was the only point in the conversation where I almost cried. I kept quiet until I could speak again, and then I asked him how: he was going to