“Spring is the best part of the year,” Manny thought to himself as he walked down Cicero. The trees in the islands of grass that floated along the dead seas of pavement were beginning to show flecks of green, and the early morning sun peeked through them and onto Manny’s face. He took a deep breath, and the cool air slid down and filled his chest. For these few moments, he could forget the cigarette butts, the pop and beer cans, the broken bottles, the tar-splotched, gum-encrusted sidewalks, the boarded up apartments and houses, the graffiti covered CTA stops, the gunshots, the isolation, the chaos—and see nature for what it was intended.
Traffic was starting to pick up. An old guy with a raggedy grey sweater stood in front of the corner store fidgeting with his keys and the harsh screeching of rusty security shutters followed Manny’s ears as he walked past the carnicería. An old Geo beater rattled past, its muffler making white sparks against the asphalt, and a ’97 Toyota Camry sped past it with an out of control sub-woofer and gold spinners. What kind of idiot puts spinners on a car like that? Manny laughed to himself. Front doors slammed, kids ran to their busses, and the middle-eastern couple that lived in the apartment building across the street was fighting again.
The spell was broken.
His little brother Raul walked a block ahead so he could have a couple extra minutes on the playground before the bell rang. He was a 6th grader now; officially in middle school (as he constantly reminded everyone), and he was way too grown to be seen walking with the rest of the family. He wore gel in his hair now and had started stealing Manny’s cologne when he thought he wasn’t looking… even though the smell flooded every single room in the house. Manny always teased him about it. “You want to attract the ladies, man, not kill ‘em.” But Raul was hard headed, so Manny started buying the cheap stuff.
“Wait for Cici,” Manny yelled to the little man, who pretended not to hear.
“I said esperate Raul… Boy, quit playin’, I know you hear me.”
Raul scowled and turned back. “Alicia, hurry up, you’re going to make me late.”
The younger girl ran to catch up; her pink backpack bouncing, smacking her back and rattling the pencils inside their plastic case as her feet collided with the ground.
They turned the corner, and the school came into sight. It was a drab building in front of an asphalt playground with a huge steel A-frame sprouting out of the ground, and a couple of net-less basketball rims. Apparently the winter had managed to kill even the swing chains, and they weren’t coming back anytime soon.
Child-pitched, carbonated screams reached their ears from a block and a half away, and Raul began to speed up again. Manny shook his head as Alicia’s shorter legs worked double time to keep up, but before they could rush through the black fence that sectioned this asphalt from the rest of the city pavement, Manny stopped them.
“Oye, come back.”
Raul stopped and slowly turned around, and glared.
“Mira, Raul, I have work today ‘cause my boss changed my shift, so I need you to take Cici home with you right after school.”
His ‘tough-kid’ act dropped. “But I was gonna…”
“No me importa, I need you to go home and watch your sister. Hey. Don’t look at me like that, you know how it is.”
Raul looked down and poked the dirt with his shoe, trying to come up with something to say that would somehow change his brother’s mind.
Manny shook his head. “Quit complaining,” he said, but his tone changed.
“Here,” he pulled a couple of bills out of his wallet, “Get a paleta on the way home.”
Raul’s face outshone the sun.
“Yeah, yeah….Don’t say I never gave you nothing.”
The little pink backpack hugged Manny, and ran off to join the other third graders.
“Call me when you get home, okay?” Manny yelled after her.
“Ok ‘mano.”
“Hey, what do you say when somebody gives you something?”
“Thank you ‘mano!” they yelled in unison.
“That’s better.”
Manny shook Omar’s hand as they pushed through the moving walls of flesh that reconstructed themselves between class periods.
“Oye vato, what’s up?”
“Pues, nada. You going to class güey?”
“Naw, I got some business to handle. You still down for later?”
“No se, I got work again esta noche, and Ms. Miller’s on some shit right now, she might not pass me.”
“No worries, do what you got to do. But hey, I’ll be at la tienda during seventh any time you change your mind.”
“A’iight man. Take it easy.”
Manny turned the corner past the row of older brown lockers, and headed towards American Lit. Damn, Omar made some good money. And it was easy money. Well, relatively easy. All he had to do was stand on a corner, and go on some runs every so often…didn’t have to worry about taxes or nothing. …
Naw, it wasn’t worth thinking about. What would happen if he got busted? Besides… for the first time in his life, he was actually starting to do well in class… Ms. Miller had even said he had a lot of potential. That’s right, crazy Ms. Miller—with the triple chin and uni-brow that scared everyone into a respectful silence when she entered a room– had said that he had potential. When’s the last time she had said that to anyone?
***
“Hello, welcome to Cheezy-Grill, home of the Cheezy Fries, my name is Manny, how can I serve you today?”
“But honey, you haven’t eaten dinner yet…for God’s sake, stop yelling… I don’t even know whether they serve them here—Excuse me, Sir? Do you serve Milk Shakes here?”
“Yes ma’am, the flavors are on the sign there, would you like one?”
“Oh, let me think…honey, are you sure that’s what you want? A milk shake? I don’t know, that seems really sweet this close to bed-time...oh, alright dear. Ok Sir? Yes we would like to order one Milk Shake.”
“One milkshake. What flavor ma’am?”
“What flavor sweetie?... You don’t know?... How about chocolate?...But you love chocolate honey… No? Oh… okay…o-Okay Sir, Hi, can you hear me?
“Yes ma’am.”
“We’ll have a Mint Flavored Milk Shake.”
“Ma’am, we don’t have mint. The flavors are on the sign, right there to your right.”
“Oh. ok. Honey, they don’t carry mint…What about banana, do you want Banana?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, we don’t have banana. We have Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry and Cherry.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, could you hold on for just a sec…”
Manny zoned out. He could understand if this was a language issue, or if the lady was blind or something, but after working here for this long, he had learned that all customers are inherently stupid, with very few exceptions. Well, at least she wasn’t rude. Manny tapped his fingers on the counter waiting for her to come through the drive-through. Only three hours to go. He wondered how the hell Mike had lasted ten years here. It was driving him crazy after less than one… not that Mike wasn’t crazy, but for ten years in fast food, he was doing pretty damn good. But Mike was a freak of nature… probably in more ways than one, not that he wanted to know the details. Shit, here came another one, “Hi, welcome to Cheezy-Grill, home of The Cheezy Fries, my name is Manny, how can I serve you today?”
At least it paid the bills… well, it paid some of the bills and he got to bring food home after work. Plus, if Mike put him on clean-up there was time to think.
***
Mrs. Chavez was stretched across the couch in her old blue bathrobe, listening to a re-run of ‘Heridas de Amor’ blare from the TV—when the lock clunked, and back door shrieked open.
“¿Manuel?”
“Yeah Ma, it’s me.”
Work had been particularly bad today, and even the idea of talking annoyed the hell out of him.
“¿Donde has estado?”
Manny grew irritated.
“Ma, you know I work after school.”
“Bueno. ¿Nos trajiste comida?”
“The food is on the table.” He snapped, “Cici, Raul, come eat.”
She yelled after him as he left the room, but he didn’t catch it. He felt real bad for getting mad so fast, and closed the door of the bedroom carefully to avoid more confrontation. He threw his bag on the floor and collapsed onto his bed. As the big comforter enveloped him, he felt like a Reese’s falling into a milkshake at work. Ugh, lately all of his comparisons had to do with fast food. His friend Octavio’s chubby, freckled face looked like a hamburger bun; the girl that sat in front of him during PE had streaks of cheese in her ketchup colored hair and… He was beginning to drift off when Raul came back to the room with the chicken nuggets he had brought for him, and started playing music. After several minutes of tossing and turning, Manny pulled the covers down from over his head.
“Ay dios, Raul, please turn that shit down.”
Raul turned it down, but kept slamming drawers and shuffling papers.
“Don’t you have homework or something you should be doing?”
“Don’t you?” He retorted.
“Smartass…”
Manny turned over angrily, but calmed down and sat up after a beat.
“A’iight, fine, you got me… I need to do mine too.”
“What’chu yelling at me for then?”
“Lo siento ‘mano, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day…. For real though, did you finish your homework? It’s getting late.”
Raul paused, “No.”
“Ok, I’m gonna to get my book out, go get your stuff.”
“Can I put my music back on?”
“Fine. Not to loud though, ok? Ma’s going to sleep soon.”
***
The halls were already clear, so Manny knew what was coming, but he turned the knob as silently as possible, and tried to tiptoe into the classroom unseen.
“Manuel, you’re late. Stand by the door, you know the drill.”
Damn, she caught me, he thought. “I’m sorry…”
“I expect everyone to make it to class on time, you know that Chavez. If you can’t do that, you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
Carajo. This was the third time that week. He was just so damn tired. The new schedule Mike had posted had him working till closing, at 11:30. Normally he would have told him off, said that there was no way he was working that late, that he had homework, that he had stuff to take care of at home… but the landlord was getting tired of the late checks, so something had to give—and lately, that something always seemed to be him. Home, School, Work. Home, School, Work. The endless cycle never stopped. He just wanted some time to let loose a little; to relax… to do something for just himself for a change. He just wanted some space to breathe, to think, to live in.
He hated standing by the door. It was right at the front of the class. In front of everyone; and their eyes followed him if he even shifted weight. He could see his seat in the back corner. That spot was the best one in the room because he could see everyone and everything but no one else could really see him without turning all the way around. He usually shared the back row with the chick who texted everyone and their momma all through class (she had to be faking it half the time, he thought, no one has that many friends), the guy who was always high off his ass, and the other four that usually just slept. But he chose it for other reasons. People couldn’t see that he was actually paying attention and reading along. He knew the answers to the questions she was asking most of the time, but he tried to look disinterested. He sure as hell couldn’t participate now that he was standing by the door, as conspicuous as a Korean tourist lost on the west side of Chicago.
He had set three alarms the night before, just to be sure, but woke up to his mom hitting the snooze button a half an hour after he was supposed to be up. She said she thought he needed more sleep. He had no right to get mad, she was trying to do something nice, but he hadn’t been able to help it.
Ms. Miller’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Take out The Oxbow Incident and turn to your assigned reading from last night.”
He wasn’t sure whether he should just stand there, or if he should take the book out. Why wouldn’t she just let him sit down already? It wasn’t like he had wanted to be late, he had been up reading that book until 3:30, and wrote his response paper for the next hour after that. Then he hadn’t been able to sleep, thinking about how the book had ended. But it really got to him. He hadn’t expected a country western novel to be that good. The guy had written it in the 30’s, but this kind of thing was still happening, except instead of a posse of guys acting on their own, now it was the government and they called it corporal punishment. Those three men hadn’t killed anyone, and there was no real evidence, but they were lynched anyway. How could anyone ever know “beyond a reasonable doubt” (as Ms. Miller would say) who was guilty or not? How could government have a say in what was a human right or not? Who gave them the right? Why did the right to “pursue happiness” have to be written down as law? Why didn’t everyone just have that right to begin with?
“You may take a seat now, Manuel.”
He glanced up at Ms. Miller as he was startled out of his thoughts. He picked up his bag, and drifted to his favorite spot. The brainy kid in the front smirked. His friend Octavio gave him a nod, and stuck his foot out as if to trip him as he passed.
“You a’iight man?”
Manny forced a smile and whispered back “Yeah. It’s all good.”
“Alright everyone, take out your response papers and pass them to your right.”
In the past years he had skipped out on these types of assignments, or sometimes he wrote them, and then decided not to turn them in. He was too caught up in the mechanics of it, knowing that he was bad at grammar, and worrying about looking stupid when the teacher read it. But lately he needed something. He needed to get his mind off of his day to day personal issues, and these past few topics had gotten him thinking. He would turn over his argument in his head all afternoon and evening during work, and write down little ideas on napkins so he wouldn’t forget. When he got home, everyone would be asleep or in the bedroom, and he would go and sit at the dining room table with a burger from work, and just write. It felt good to play around with the words: trying to get them to make sense and say what he wanted them to. He saved up and bought a dictionary to learn to spell better and learn new words, and he had started reading the novels that were assigned before bed every night.
He slipped his paper in as the stack passed by him. No one noticed.
***
Alicia was sitting on the low step out in front when Manny came home from work one Saturday evening.
“Cici!” He yelled from across the street. “What‘chu doin’ outside?”
“Sitting.”
“I can see that,” Manny laughed, but stopped as he came closer and saw the look on her face.
“What’s the matter mami?”
Cici sniffled, and wiped her nose all down her arm.
“Aww, don’t do that, that’s nasty. Come here.”
Manny sat down next to her, and she crumpled into to his open arms, leaving a wet mark on his shirt where her face touched it.
“Ugh, You look so nastyyy,” he teased, “look at all those mocos running down your face.”
“Shut up Manny,” she protested, and attempted to hide her face in his sleeve.
He laughed, “What are you gonna do about it?”
She tried to be angry, but Manny’s facial expressions made her smile, and little splotches of pink bloomed under her cheeks even though the tears were still coming. He couldn’t stop himself from tickling the living mess out of her until her familiar eight-year-old laughter filled the whole block. Her tears transformed to squeals as she squirmed and tried to break away.
“That’s better,” He smiled, and let her go.
Alicia squeaked, and ran over to the end of the stoop farthest from Manny to catch her breath. When her heart rate got closer to normal, she timidly slid back next to him, trying to gauge whether he was going to attack her again.
“Relax Cici, I promise, I’m done.”
“You swear?”
“Yeah pinky swear”
She extended a nervous hand, and edged a little closer, but he faked her out and she ran into the grass.
“No fair!!!”
“I’m kidding, I promise. I’m done.” He put his hands into the air and kept them there until she slowly made her way back.
“Can I get a hug?”
“You’re going to tickle me again!!”
“No, I swear.”
She edged her way back over, and they sat on the step together. Manny asked her about school and patiently sat through her longwinded reply about everything that had happened, in sequential order down to the ‘he said she said’s.’ After a good half hour or so, he thought enough time had passed.
“So what happened mami?”
Alicia’s face grew serious again, “Pa came by.”
“What? Today?”
“While you were at work.”
“Is Raul here?”
“No, he went to Nikko’s house.”
“He didn’t walk you home? Nevermind.… What did he want?”
“No se ‘mano, I was trying to hear, but I could only hear little bits through the door, and then Ma told me to go to the store.”
“They were in the room? How long was he here?”
“Like two hours.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No.”
Did he touch you?”
“No. No,‘mano,”
“You sure?”
Cici nodded.
“You promise Cici?”
“Yeah mano, I promise.
“Was he drunk?”
“I don’t know, yeah…maybe, he smelled funny.”
“Alright, don’t worry, ok? Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be ok. Where’s Ma? Is she inside?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok come on, let’s go in, you got church in the morning… How long were you out here? It’s getting dark.”
Pa had left right after Alicia was born: when Raul was three, and Manny was seven. He had shown up one day and taken Manny and Raul to a baseball game, about four years afterwards. They had a great time, and he had promised to come back and see them every weekend. He next came through about two years later. Manny never understood why his mom let him in the house, but whenever he decided to show up, she always did. Mrs. Chavez loved her kids, but whenever situations arose where she had to choose between them and her ‘husband’, the kids usually drew the short straw.
She had started working overtime at a chemical plant on the south side to bring in enough to support them all. So by age 8, Manny would pick up Raul from daycare and walk to Abuela’s where she was taking care of Cici. When Abuela died a couple years later, Manny took over cooking and cleaning after school when his mom was at work. They were doing pretty well, until the accident. A vat of chemicals had spilled, and a large quantity splashed into her eyes. They filed for disability among other things, but didn’t get as much as they should have, because no one at the desks in the office downtown would believe that the family wasn’t receiving child support. Manny was in high school by this time, so he started taking night shifts. His mom had continued working under the table at various ‘odds and ends’ jobs for a while, but she got caught, and had to quit before the government caught on and took more money away.
***
Manny’s shift was delayed one Wednesday, so he picked up Raul and Cici from school, just like the good old days. To celebrate he bought elotes and snow-cones from the corn-man outside the school, and the three of them joked around the whole walk back, until they got to their block.
Raul was the first one to see. He dropped his snow cone and ran up the block to the house.
The world screeched to a halt and caught in Manny’s throat.
Their clothes, blankets, sofa, and dishes; their mattresses, shelves, TV, and chairs littered the grass plot in front of the apartment and a dazed Mrs. Chavez sat at the recently relocated dining room table.
That table had been in the house for as long as he could remember. Ma used to cook back in the day. She worked long hours during the week, but she tore up that kitchen like a mad-woman on weekends trying to make up for lost time, and there was always enough food to feed at least ten families. He remembered the Saturday evenings when they all used to sit together and eat, laugh like hell, and make fun of each other. All of his birthday parties had been centered at that table. He had made forts underneath it with old sheets and upside-down chairs when Ma wasn’t home. Raul used to make little lego cities around its legs, and Alicia had colored all over the top of it one day when they ran out of notebook paper, and when Abuela saw the mess, she had yelled so loud the windows shook.
The fond memories choked as he collided back to reality.
“¿Ma? ¡Ay Dios mío! Why didn’t you call me?”
Her face was blank.
“What happened to the rent money I gave you Ma?”
She turned away from his voice. Her hair was disheveled, and she still was wearing her lucky red dress. He could smell casino smoke wafting off of the knots in her hair and rotting booze from the mist of her breath.
“Ma, talk to me.”
She started to cry.
“Se lo di a tu Papá.”
“¡Pinche mierda! Why the hell would you do that?”
“Lo necesitó mijo.”
“My ass he needed it! Ma, he’s supposed to be giving you money!”
“Lo siento mijito,” She sobbed, her already smeared make-up, now running down her
face. Her words could no longer form themselves, and she dropped her head into her arms, which were rested on the table.
Manny loved his mother to death. But sometimes she made it really difficult; and it had grown worse recently. For the first time, he understood why.
She was at home all day with nothing to do, and the longer she stayed there, the further down she went. She was lonely. She hadn’t seen another guy since her husband had left all those years before. Manny tried to encourage her to go out every so often, and had called off of work a couple nights so that she could, but her eyes made her self conscious, and she had given up as more and more years stretched on. So every time when Pa showed up—out of the blue and wasted—she tried to win him back, to convince him to change, to say he loved her like he used to, to stay for dinner and spend the night afterwards. But with every attempt he grew colder, he came less, and he asked for more. She could never bring herself to refuse.
“Ok Ma, just wait here, I’ll figure things out ok? Raul, wait here with Ma and watch the stuff, Cici, ven conmigo.”
Mrs. Chavez’s blank, lifeless eyes stared at nothing. “I tried to win it back” she muttered.
“Raul, watch her ok? I’m counting on you. We’ll be back soon.”
Raul nodded and sat down at the table.
The bank was several long blocks away and Cici’s feet were tired. But she was happy to be with Manny instead of being stuck in the front yard with everyone in the barrio walking by chismeando, so she didn’t complain.
***
“Manuel Chavez?”
“Yes sir.”
“You can step into the back here.”
Manuel looked around the small, dark shop. He had passed by it almost every day on the way to work, but had never gone inside until earlier that day. It kind of creeped him out. The windows were always dark, and they never opened the steel grates over them, even when they were open for business. A lot of stores did that, but, for some reason, here, it really bothered him. The afternoon sunlight was chopped up by the metal, and it lay splotched in fragments all over the floor and everything else in the store. That wasn’t the thing that disturbed him though. Everything in there used to belong to someone. Every little instrument, clock, lamp, table, watch, TV or necklace had an owner who had to part with it to make some extra cash. It seemed un-natural.
“Thank you.”
The young guy behind the glass display case walked over to the wood part of the counter by the register, and lifted the hinged part to let Manny through. He smiled in an attempt to make Manny feel more comfortable. It didn’t help.
The back of the store was even darker than the front, and the guy awkwardly squeezed in front of him in the narrow space between the wall and counter so that he could lead him.
“So here’s the deal bud. I can give you about seventy-five for the TV, one-fifty for the cabinet there and I’m thinking about a hundred for the dishes, which are pretty nice, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to give you much for the rest.”
This asshole called him bud… he thought. “How much are you thinking?”
“Well, most of it is pretty low-end—no offence—but I can give you an estimate…not much more than ten each for the chairs… I could probably get my boss to give you twenty-five for the table, but that would be pushing it.”
“I’ll take it.”
***
"Manuel, you’re a smart kid and I know you have a good head on your shoulders. But I’ve noticed a significant change in your work, so I’m concerned. Is something going on at home that I should know about?”
“No ma’am.”
“Is there anything you need to talk about?”
Manny shrugged.
“Look Chavez, you’re one of my best students. That’s why I took you out of class to talk to you. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but don’t try and fool me into thinking its nothing. I’ve been doing this for way too long. I don’t want you to feel like there are no options out there for you. You have a lot of talent. I’ve seen it in the essays you’ve handed in. You’ve got some wonderful insights, and you could continue to improve if you worked at it a little bit more, and applied yourself fully…”
Manny’s face flamed. “Worked a little harder?” he thought, “I should work a little harder? What do you know about work?”
“…but if you continue cutting class and coming late, you’re not going to leave me with much of a choice as far as your grades are concerned.”
“What do you know about applying yourself? What the hell do you know about life?! You try and apply yourself and ‘embrace your talents’ when you get no sleep, when you do everything for everyone and get nothing in return, when you try to make a difference in the lives of the people you love and nothing ever seems to work out the way it should. You try and apply yourself when you come home after school and all your stuff is on your fucking front lawn. You try and apply yourself when you have to explain to your little sister and brother that the world doesn’t give a damn if they live on the god-damn street. You want to talk about options? I’m running really fucking low on options. But you don’t have a clue. You don’t have a goddamn clue. And you know what? You could never understand if I told you.” He wanted to say this. He wanted to say this and more, but the words stuck in his throat.
“Of course. I understand.”
Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe she could have helped? Let him know where to get some kind of aid… put him in contact with the counselor? She might have given him an extension on the essays he had missed… Maybe she could even talk to the other teachers and let them know what was going on. He could go back, she’d be in her office later that afternoon, grading papers, or doing whatever the old teacher ladies do in their offices while they sipped their coffee. He could explain that he was living out of motels every night, and that the loan from the bank was running low. He could explain that he was working past midnight every night, and was too tired to read The Scarlet Letter and The Raven; that he didn’t have the energy to “be a critical thinker and analyze,” but damnit, he wanted to, and please would she give him another chance?
What the hell was he going to do with reading though? Was that going to put a roof over their head? Was he going to write a paper and miraculously win a shitload of money and live happily ever after? What if he did get good grades? What if he did end up going to college… how the hell was he going to afford it? What good would it do when his family had no where to go? Nowhere to live; Nothing to eat?
What was she really going to do? She’d give him that patronizing, well-wishing, sympathetic look. She’d do all she could to help out. All the teachers would feel ‘sorry’ for him and his ‘poor family.’ They would give him special treatment, give him extra time, lower their standards, and ‘understand where he was coming from.’ Then the counselor would get involved, and somehow the government would get into it too, and then Raul and Cici would get taken away by DCFS or put in Foster Care, because his mom wasn’t ‘a good mother.’
No. He wasn’t some fucking charity case. He didn’t need her help. He didn’t need their help. He didn’t need anyone’s help. It was his responsibility. He was a man. A real man. The only one in his family; and he’d be damned if was going to let them down.
***
“Where did all the stuff go?”
“No te precupes, Cici, its temporary, I promise. I put it in storage. Just till we get the new place. We’ll get it all back.”
“The dishes too?”
“Yes mami. Those too.”
“They won’t break there will they ‘mano?”
“Claro que no. I have them real safe… in boxes with all that cool foam stuff you like.”
“Where are we staying tonight?”
“Somewhere nice.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling. You’ll see.”
“Please? Please? I promise, I won’t tell Raul.”
“Alright. You know that real nice hotel we always go past on the el when we go downtown?”
“Ooooo really?”
“No.”
“You’re mean.” Cici pouted. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“No,” he smiled, “I told you, it’s a surprise.”
***
***
Manny’s buddy Octavio came into the grill one afternoon right before his lunch break. He hadn’t seen Tavio in ages, and he really felt like talking for once, so he told Mike he was going on break, and they walked back to Tavio’s together. They talked about old times back in grade school, cars they wanted, old video games and TV shows. Then Manny realized the time, and had to get back. Everyone was getting out of school, so the streets were live, and they had to step back against the gate and out of the way of strollers, younger kids running, older ones strolling, and grandmas with their upright foldable shopping carts. They stood for a minute just watching the traffic. Manny’s eyes started to glaze over.
“Daaaammmn, did you see her? Woooooweeeee, she’s fine as hell! I think she looked at you güey! Make a move!”
“Naw man, ain’t no one checkin’ me out.”
“What’s wrong with you man? You’re all down and shit.”
Manny paused,“I’m thinkin’ I might kick it with Omar tonight. He said he’s heading to K-town a la una.”
“Cuidate vato, you know what happened to Caesar right?”
“Yeah I heard about that, but I ain’t seen him lately. His eye open up yet?”
“Man, his shit’s so swole up he couldn’t see Ms. Miller if she was three inches away.”
“Damn, that’s cold bro,” Manny laughed. “How is she by the way?”
“Good man, class be getting boring as hell without you there though. I got no one to poke fun of when I get bored now…. Naw man, but seriously though, I know money’s tight, pero be smart, that’s all. Omar’s reckless. You know that”
“He gets paid though,”
“Yeah f’sho, but…”
Don’t worry about me man. You know I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, pero you never know Manny, just be careful ok?”
“Yeah yeah.”
“But hey, for real though, if you end up going, I want a discount on somma that good shit. You know what I’m sayin’! Hook a brotha up….”
“You’re crazy” Manny laughed, “I got you though, no worries.”
“A’iight. Take it easy, ok, y don’t be a damn stranger! Ok?”
“Claro, claro.”
Manny smiled. The sun was about three fourths of the way through the sky now, and the
breeze was starting to pick up. He hadn’t brought a coat and was starting to shiver, but he didn’t notice. A squirrel ran in front of him, but he didn’t see it. The birds were silent to his ears and the trees disappeared. The only thing left was asphalt, bricks, and concrete. But he didn’t mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment