Another rush of cop cars careens across the Bronx streets. Now that the fancy new police precinct is up and running nearby, it feels as if the po-po has nothing better to do but round up the innocent all day. Unspoken curfews are implemented every time we simply want to hang. New transplants can feel safe here with us tucked away from sight. Pops mentioned how this happened back in the day when “El Demonio” Giuliani was mayor and wanted to present a clean New York. He says things are once again becoming interesting.
It’s two o’clock in the morning. I haven’t been able to sleep much for the past couple of days. Eury got me up at night translating Prince songs like I’m on a deadline. What is wrong with me? I bodied the song “Adore.” I knew I would. And yet, she’s not paying me no mind. Not really.
The ride in Aaron’s car when we left Orchard was good. I felt we were vibing. She was a little more talkative. Jaysen decided to stay behind, and there was way more room in the back seat.
“You should start with this,” she said, directing me to Prince’s first album, For You. She laughed when I tried to copy Prince’s trademark yell. Then she shook me with this question:
“What does music mean to you?”
I had no idea Eury was going to administer a pop quiz. I thought I was being all charming until I stumbled.
“Singing is fun. I like it,” I said. “It’s a hobby, you know what I’m saying?”
She frowned, actually frowned.
“What’s the point of singing if you’re not using your voice to move mountains?”
Whoa. How am I supposed to reply to that? She wasn’t trying to son me. She genuinely asked the question, and I had no valid answer that didn’t ring false. Am I being a hypocrite because music isn’t the be-all and end-all for me? My voice doesn’t have the power to do much but get a girl like Eury to pay attention to me. If I didn’t have that, would she have looked my way? Maybe. Maybe not.
Melaina, on the other hand, sent me long rambling texts full of curses. How I disrespected her. How I should be doing the right thing and apologizing. How she might forgive me. The next day she was back to sending me sweet messages, explaining she only wants me to succeed. She’s looking out for me. I was clear from the very beginning, when we first hooked up, that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. We are both too young for any of that. She’s always been cool with keeping our thing casual. Melaina insisted on meeting at Orchard. She promised to make it up to me.
Penelope and Eury have been no-shows at the beach since Sunday. Four long days. I figured I would try to sing a bachata version of “Purple Rain.” No doubt it was going to suck, but I was willing to give it a try. Maybe Eury would have found it funny. I don’t know. When Jaysen reached out to Penelope to ask why she wasn’t there, she responded with a “mind your business.” Penelope is always with the mouth. With Penelope not around, it also meant no Aaron and no ride.
Melaina and I ended up sharing a cab together yesterday. She was extra nice. She even wore the tight red dress I like. Everyone on the block wants to be with her, but she doesn’t hook up with just anyone. When she picked me, things turned. People started to pay attention to my music. They asked me to play at their quinceañeras, weddings. I got paid. Who doesn’t want extra money? The money I spent on myself and Melaina. Restaurants. Her nails. Even this red dress she picked out at one of the Third Avenue shops.
This time, though, when Melaina and I kissed on our cab ride home, it fell flat. I kept thinking of Eury. I kept wondering what she was doing, how she spent her day. Melaina noticed how distracted I was. She got PO’d. Told me off. I hit Melaina with the “let’s be friends.” As soon as I said the words, she started to laugh that deep, sexy laugh of hers. This is a game, I guess, for her.
I sit by the open window in the kitchen, my guitar in my hand. Would this song reach Eury’s dreams?
Pops’s chancletas hit the wooden floor. I hope I’m not keeping him up.
“Sorry, Pops,” I say.
He grabs the kettle and fills it with water.
“The sirens woke me up.”
Pops has been working at his friend’s delivery service, taking furniture around town. They go all over the city, across to Jersey, even Staten Island. He’s not supposed to be doing manual labor, not technically. I guess getting paid under the table is hard to give up. Add tips and he’s making a bit of bank, enough to pay off whatever Mom wants him to pay off.
“What are you doing up?” He rubs his eyes, opens the cabinet, and places one of the mugs in front of me. Pops is a tea connoisseur. There is a tea for every mood, every dilemma. With our insomnia, he prepares a bit of chamomile.
“Hey, Pops, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, son. I may not be fully awake, but I’ll still try to answer.” I wait for the yawn to pass.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Hmm. I think I need something stronger than chamomile,” he jokes.
Pops takes his time. It’s one thing I love about him. I can ask him anything, no matter what. We’ve always had that type of relationship. He doesn’t hold back either. When I was young, I remember this kid Oscar in my fifth grade class told me I was pretending to be Black. I came home upset, and when I got on the phone for our daily call, my father broke it down for me. That weekend, Pops took me to the Schomburg Center. He explained what it meant to be Afro-Latino.
Pops pours the piping hot water into his mug and mine.
“There’s attraction, a type of chemistry between two people whether it is love, lust, or a sibling connection,” he says. “A person comes into your life for a reason. You are meant to learn or you are meant to teach. Or both. There are no coincidences.”
“It’s weird. This girl Eury I met,” I say, feeling slightly foolish for admitting this, even to him. “I don’t know her, but I want to.”
“And? This is a bad thing?”
“No, not necessarily. It’s just. I don’t know.”
He laughs. “It looks like cupido got you right here.” He taps my heart. “Love isn’t about possession. It’s a divine meeting. Respect that and don’t force your way. You understand me? Eury is a person, and she’s not on your timetable or cupido’s.”
I understand what Pops is saying. So what if I’m battling weird feelings for Eury? That’s on me. I need to respect her. I’ll stop trying to woo her with these chords and just get to know her.
“Go listen to el Maestro de Bachata, José Manuel Calderón, and stop trying so hard,” Pops says. “Tomorrow is another day.”
I hit my sofa bed. Pops stays at the kitchen table scribbling on a notebook. He’s doing his calculations. How to pay certain bills. The kitchen table is usually littered with pieces of paper filled with numbers. I fall asleep to the sound of his pen gliding across the page.
“I’m not going,” I say. Jaysen is pissed. He showed up early to my house when I texted him a no to going to the beach. I guess he thinks he can change my mind in person. It’s not happening.
“Why you acting like you doing me a favor?” he says. “I mean, you are, because seriously them girls only look at me sideways unless I bring ‘el Nuevo Nene.’ For real though, you got to practice so when my boy calls us to Dīs-traction, we ready.”
When did Jaysen become my manager?
“I’m not doing the beach,” I say. “I need a break.”
Jaysen stands up as if he figured it all out. He is jumping up and down. I’m glad Pops left early this morning to not witness this fool.
“I knew it. You got eyes for Eury. Man, I should have known once you started belting out Prince songs something was amiss. Even Mami fell in love with Eury. ‘Why can’t you find a nice girl who goes to church?’ That’s what she said to me the other day. Shit. I ain’t got time for that.”
Mass. That’s where Eury goes to. Okay. She’s on a spiritual trip. I didn’t grow up in church. My father is a believer but not Catholic unless it’s liberation theology. Priests taking arms to protect the poor is more Pops’s speed.
“What church?”
Jaysen is going on. He isn’t listening to me.
“Yo, what church?”
“Bro, I don’t know. I mean, Mom goes to St. Anselm every single day because she always makes sure dinner is ready before she heads out. What do you care? Eury is an angel and you, you ain’t nothing but el diablo.”
I’m not the devil. It’s true I’ve been a player. My thing with Melaina doesn’t look good from the outside. My crew probably expects me to be with Melaina, but maybe I’m not supposed to do that.
There’s a banging at the door. Penelope is on the other side, and she’s screaming for me to wake up.
“What the hell,” I say and grab a clean shirt. “Hold up!”
“What are you two huevones doing today?” Penelope asks. I check to see if her cousin is with her. She’s not. “We are going to Central Park. You want in, or are you going to stay here staring at each other?”
“Damn, Penelope. Why can’t you just ask nicely, for once?” Jaysen says. This only causes Penelope to push him.
“Is your cousin going?” I ask because I have to. I can’t help myself.
“Do not mess with her. Either of you.” She gets right in my face. “I’m telling you right now. I will cut your balls off. She needs no stress. I’m letting you two be around her because for whatever reason Eury actually thinks you are okay.”
“I promise,” I say. “I’m not going to cause her stress.”
Penelope gives me a long, hard stare. “Meet in front in ten minutes.” And with that she walks out, slamming the door behind her.
I get to spend the day with Eury.
Wait. She doesn’t want some stink ass.
“Dammit. We are going into the city. I’m not mentally prepared for whypipo,” Jaysen says as I rush to strip and jump in the shower. “I hate you, bro.”
Thirty minutes later, Jaysen and I rush down the steps to the front of the building. Penelope tells us to hurry the hell up. Eury stands beside her with a serious face. How can I communicate if I don’t have my guitar with me?
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” Eury says.
“Oh my god, let’s go!” Penelope breaks the trance between Eury and me.
We walk toward the train station. I never get over the surge of excitement from taking the train into the city. It’s as if we are playing hooky, like we’re entering a domain we are not meant to enter. The train arrives, and for whatever reason, I am forced to sit with Jaysen while the girls settle across from us. Damn Jaysen for cockblocking without even realizing it.
A guy standing by the door has his music so loud. Even with his headphones on I can make out the song he’s listening to is a bachata. I take this as a good sign, but I don’t say a word or even hum. I catch Eury’s reflection and there’s a grin. A tiny one.
Okay. No singing. Be cool.
Once we reach Eighty-Sixth Street, we pile out of the train. It’s only a few blocks to the park. There are groups of little kids holding hands and wearing oversized neon green T-shirts on their way to a field trip.
“Penelope, I don’t want you to get lost,” Jaysen says. He tries to grab her hand.
“¡Déjame!” she screams.
“So, what’s up with A-Aron?” Jaysen asks. I laugh. So does Eury.
“His name is Aaron, and he’s taking summer classes,” Penelope says.
“Oh, he’s stupid, huh?”
Jaysen gets decked. He deserves it. Aaron is pretty cool. Jaysen’s only ragging on him because the guy is not around to defend himself. Besides, Jaysen should know better about calling anyone that. It’s not cool or funny.
“Have you ever been to Central Park before?” I ask Eury. She nods.
“I was really young. I think we went to the zoo.”
“No, prima, that was the Bronx Zoo. The first time my parents brought you here was to see the snow. You freaked out!”
Eury puckers her mouth. Then she smiles. She remembers.
“Yes. It was too cold. I don’t belong in winter.”
“Truth,” I say. “No one does. You’re lucky you only have to deal with the summer stench and crawling rats.”
When we finally reach the Eighty-Fifth Street entrance of the park, Jaysen acts the fool and starts running wild across the green open space as if he’s never been outside his whole life.
“Wait for us!” Penelope yells and grabs Eury’s hand. I didn’t know we were regressing back to childhood, but I’m in.
I run after them, dodging kids and blankets laid out for the residents to catch rays. Parents cluck their tongues at us. Shaking their heads. I’m sure they hate seeing us brown and Black kids acting out in their park.
Out of breath, we drop down on the grass, completely spent.
“Remember when ‘running’ meant running and not running away from something?” Eury asks.
Jaysen and I look at each other. “No.” We both say it at the same time.
“There was a time when we were innocent,” she quietly says. “I remember.”
Eury lightly runs her fingers across the blades of grass. Penelope, being the smart one, pulls out a bag of oranges from her tote bag. She hands one to each of us. The citrusy smell permeates the air.
“It is nice here,” Eury says.
“Let me tell you a little bit about Seneca Village.”
“Aw, Jesus! Here goes Professor Nobody Wants to Know,” Jaysen says.
I get up to make my point. “Anyway. This land right here, where we are enjoying this orange, used to be called Seneca Village, a community founded by free working-class Blacks. Just picture it. Farmland owned by free Black folks. Alongside them were the Irish. That’s right. They lived peacefully. But guess what? All of a sudden, rich people wanted to build a nice park to chill in. They started calling Seneca Village a shantytown and those who rightfully bought the land squatters. You know what happened next?”
“They were pushed out,” Eury says.
“Why are you egging him on?” Jaysen complains. I ignore him.
“Cops came in and forced them out. Violence. Can you imagine? It’s your home and someone decides it doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t you defend it?”
“For someone who loves beauty, you sure love talking about war a lot,” Eury says.
“Violence. Beauty. It’s all connected,” I say.
“Y’all are boring.” Jaysen gets up. “C’mon, Penelope. I’ll buy you an overpriced soda. You guys want one?”
Eury and I both shake our heads. Penelope and Jaysen leave.
“What if it’s in our nature to crave blood?” she says. There’s a bright yellow wildflower by her. She plucks it.
I was taught to always be ready to defend myself. I was also taught when to back the hell down. Maybe it’s a city thing. You are always playing defense, trying not to get beat or arrested or shot. Is it in my nature to want bloodshed? I hope not.
“I believe in beauty and love because I see it every day,” I say. “I see it in the flower you are holding. In the orange I just ate. I see it right now.”
We hold each other’s stares. Damn. I want to kiss her. I do. Does she feel the same way? I won’t. This is a conversation. And yet.
And yet.
“I’m glad we came here,” she says.
Clouds suddenly conceal the sun.
“I hope it doesn’t rain,” I say as I look up.
When I turn to face Eury, her whole demeanor changes. Eury looks at something or someone behind me, but when I follow her gaze there is no one there.
“Eury? What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, Eury gets up and runs.