1954

Rain pelted my head.

The weather did little to urge me along. Hurrying wasn't in my nature. Mama had sent me to the store to buy dinner for tomorrow. If it had been for tonight, we wouldn't be eating till late. It was a known family fact that everything caught my eye, and sometimes I would wander, not realizing I'd lost two hours. The piragüeros on most every block distracted me most. While prepping the shaved ice and pouring the flavored syrup, the vendors looked to me to know when to stop. I prompted them to add more, always more. Not today, though. I meant to get what she needed and return home. Mama had been coughing more and more lately and needed me.

Mama forgave my absent-mindedness, mostly because she stressed that I was the only responsible one in the house, besides Titi. Natalia and Alondra were always worried about their nails and hair, and Luto was Luto.

Even still, he and I had reached an accord of sorts over the last few years. We no longer bickered as we had when we were younger. Maybe it's because we were older.

Yesterday, Luto took my hand, which I snatched away. He grabbed for me again, quite meanly, and I was reminded of the cousin from my childhood. Then, he pressed cold coins in my palm.

My knitted brow prompted him to mouth, "For your art. I know you're going to the market tomorrow."

Before I could express anything else, he hurried off, probably worried that I'd smile in thanks.

He was right. I was headed to the market, and I did plan on purchasing art supplies.

The gloom of the day had not yet permeated my bones. I enjoyed the rain, because it reminded me that I was outside. Being away from the house was a treat. Oh, I loved Mama, my sisters, and Titi, but life had settled into a repetitive hum.

Cook. Lessons with Titi. Help clean. Sew clothes. Watch TV.

I wanted...something else.

A group of girls watched me from the street corner. They were smoking outside of Hudson's Pharmacy, huddled under the awning and out of the rain. They looked to be about Alondra's age, but dressed in shorts and tight tops. Titi would quietly refer to them as putas. The blond one smiled slightly, dragging on a cigarette suggestively.

While I loved leaving the house, I didn't leave the barrio often. Today, my wandering had intentionally taken me further than intended. There was something I wanted, and I could only get it at a specific shop that Alondra had told me about.

Away from my neighborhood, the white people spoke so fast, except to me. Even before realizing I was deaf-mute, they slowed their speech as though speaking to a very small child. Or they ignored me. At least in the barrio, people only treated me differently when they knew of my condition.

Head bent, footsteps quick, I entered a small shop, mindful of the sign in the window. I had combed her hair and put on my newest dress, which wasn't new at all, but the costume wouldn't suffice. My dark skin and curly hair always gave it away. I hurried through the store and picked up what I'd journeyed here for. After this, I planned to visit the barrio market, then home. Easy.

A young woman with alabaster skin and straight brown hair approached the checkout counter where I waited.

"Do you need..." the question trailed off as the woman looked me over. "Doug!"

"Be right there!" the deep voice promised, a man showing up a moment later. He had a full beard, large arms, and a pot-belly. The woman gestured to me, and he smiled without kindness. "You an Itie or a Spic?"

Unaffected, I held out my purchase, the correct change laying on top of the merchandise.

Doug put his hands in the air. "I don't want that. You shouldn't be touching a damn thing in here."

I continued offering the money, but Doug refused to acknowledge the transaction. The woman glared at me, arms crossed. I knew better than to glare back at a white lady, and did my best to keep a composed demeanor.

"If you can read the price, you can read the sign." He pointed to the window. "'No Puerto Ricans allowed'. Now leave."

For months, I had saved money. However, the saving didn't seem to matter much. I was tempted to take the purchase with me, but I placed it on a nearby shelf instead. The sheaf paper and pastels would have to wait for another day.

On the walk back to the barrio, I crossed the street to Hudson's Pharmacy. The blond girl from before was arguing with the manager, who was flailing his arms, apparently urging her to move along.

Watching his lips, I caught some of what he yelled as he shook a fist in her face: "This place ain't for you."

Naturally, I couldn't hear the girl's retort, but it must've been good, because the manager's face reddened.

He looked about to follow through on his threat to hit her. I narrowed my eyes, and the man's fist smashed into his own face.

The blond sputtered with laughter, glancing briefly at me. Given the eye-contact, I was able-to read her lips when she said: "I'm bored here anyway. Wanna walk with me?"

Blushing, I nodded. It was rare for white people to address me outright, at least with any sort of kindness.

The blond took my hand, an arc of electricity shooting up my arm at the soft touch. "I'm gonna show you something."

~*~

'Something' turned out to be the inside of my mouth.

Before all that, the young girl led me to an alley. Mama had told me to avoid following strangers, but she had said nothing about pretty girls my age. So, I went wherever the blonde wanted, and it happened to be an alley.

Before I could get a handle on things, the girl pinned me to a brick wall, hands straying all over. Alarm bells went off in my head, and I heard Mama's warnings against letting others touch private areas. Unlike the anger I experienced toward Luto, I melted against the girl's touch, craving more.

The blonde's pink mouth descended on mine, our tongues flicking out to meet shyly, then with fervor. Long, delicious moments followed like this, until she broke off.

Panting heavily, she said, "Thanks, but I've gotta jet."

Just as suddenly as she had been all over me, she was gone. The warmth emitted from our physical contact now left me shivering, my knees threatening to buckle. I was grateful for the brick wall, as it was the only thing holding me up. My chest heaved, and my skin was clammy. Every part of my body was simultaneously on fire and achingly cold.

Eventually, my sense returned, and I smoothed wavering hands over my dress. The pockets Mama had fashioned were inside out. I groped the empty fabric, knowing there was no getting the notes back.

It seemed the white girl hadn't really wanted me after all.

All the weeks of saving didn't matter, and there would be no dinner tomorrow night.

~*~