¡Hola mi gente!
A friend treated me to a viewing to the latest
installment of the Mission Impossible franchise: Ghost Protocol.
It was actually good and had some moments of genuine suspense. Plus I love Paula Patton. I
think she’s an exquisite beauty.
The following is fiction. It is based on actual events
and is the foundation of one of the stories in my forthcoming book of short
stories tentatively titled Ataques de
Nervios (Nervous Attacks) or 704 E. 5th St. (or some shit like that).
However, I have taken huge liberties
with parts of the story, the characters, and time line.
* * *
Fear is the main source of superstition, and
one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.
-- Bertrand Russell
It’s so cold she can’t feel her
feet. She’s wearing only slippers in the midst of a raging Nor’easter. She’s
afraid and her threadbare coat hardly protects her from the 40-50 mile per hour
winds. It’s the night before Noche Buena and she’s alone, keeping vigil outside
a home in the Italian section of Lower Manhattan, but she’s here because her
kids are in need... there’s no one around and she despairs. Her feet ache...
Eddie left with Gangster with
instructions that if she saw anyone, she should whistle. Now she wonders if she
can whistle, her face is frozen, and they’ve been gone so long. What if the
police come?
Finally, they come rushing out
the building with stuffed pillowcases and she starts to run with them she
falls, she can’t feel her toes. Gangster and Eddie thankfully pick her up and
they make their way hurriedly back to the Puerto Rican section, which takes too
long and she’s crying, she’s in agony. Eddie stops to look at her feet and
mutters, “shit!” under his breath.
They hurry home.
They finally get home and by
now, she’s crying in agony. Eddie takes off the slippers and thinks she has
frostbite. She cries, but tries to stifle her cries, fearful she’ll awaken the
children. Unbeknownst to them, her oldest son watches through a crack in the
bedroom doorway. He’s afraid.
They call Eddie’s sister, who
takes one look at the stuffed pillowcases and looks down at the young mother,
as if noting her lack of moral standing. Eddie asks her to look at her feet and
the sister says it’s not frostbite, but that she should go to the emergency
room anyway. The young mother refuses, afraid. Afraid of the consequences of
the act she just helped commit and afraid of what they may say about her toes
that throb with pain now.
They give Eddie’s sister a gold
watch from the stolen loot, and she’s delighted. It’s an expensive watch, very
pretty. She gives the young mother another condescending look and admonishes
them for behaving in such an un-Christian manner. The young mother says nothing
and thanks her for looking after the children.
That Christmas a good Christmas.
There was good food, there were gifts under the tree, and my mother seemed so
happy though we noticed that she limped a little when she walked. She had a
brand new pair of boots, the only concession she made for herself. She made
sure to get her precious children gifts from “Guzman’s” -- the toy store on
Avenue C. I remember I got a James Bond attaché case, complete with gadgets and
it even shot rubber bullets if you pressed a hidden button. I also got a
chemistry set that I used for hours upon hours... She made sure we got our
gifts before Eddie and Gangster would leave with the bulk of the loot,
returning only when the money was spent on drugs. She didn’t even get herself a
decent coat. However, we got warm coats, gloves, scarves, and long underwear.
I never knew why she was crying
that wintry night all those years ago. I thought they were fighting... But I am
not surprised at her sacrifice -- what she went through for what she thought
would make us happy because somehow she always made it right, even if it meant
compromising her values or her reputation. She didn’t care, only her children
mattered. Still, she was ashamed and part of the reason why I have perfect
posture is because she taught us to walk tall, with our heads held high.
Most importantly, she taught me
what really matters...
Felicidades…
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