Mami comes in to say Luci and Garrett and Molly are at the front door waiting with Elsie the dog. Have we finished our chores? Do we want to go to Heth’s, to run Elsie with the Frisbee? But before I can do anything about it, she sees the magazine. I look behind me and there she is talking about Garrett and Molly and Luci and Elsie, and my butt freezes in place. She is wearing her gloves and a hat for the garden. Her shirt is light blue and wet on her tummy and sides because her body is sweaty. Her face stops talking and stops moving and then her whole entire body stops too, and I want to cry, but I hold my breath.
She does not say words. She does not even look mad. She comes over to the magazine. She picks it up, she looks at it, she closes the pages. Her face and her body do not tell me anything. She walks into her bedroom and, when she gets in there, she closes the door. I am still holding my breath, and Emilio is saying her name into his shirt sleeve, Mami, Mami, Mami, the same sound again and again, but here we are alone in Papi’s office and Luci and Garrett and Molly wait downstairs, yelling, Sergio! Emilio! Are you coming or what?
6
Some nights I do not go over to him in his bed — some nights I do not even think about it. But other nights, tonight, the men are in my brain, the way they like me, their tongues, their teeth, the way their faces say, I like you, you make my body change, I want to change your body, and my butt gets tickly down through my legs and I press my privates into the mattress. In a little while when Emilio is asleep I go into his bed and he wakes up and we take off our pajamas and rub our things in the quiet dark, alone not crying, liking it and not liking it, his fingers and my fingers moving everywhere until I-don’t-know-what makes my whole body, makes everything, everything like heartbeats coming out my eyeballs.
What is this? I do not ask out loud. I ask only in my stomach.
7
Heth’s Park is cut out of the woods, a field that doubles for baseball and fútbol, with a playground and tennis courts on one side and the leftover woods on the other, woods that come right up to the grass field, those trees that lead to nowhere. In the morning, in the late morning that turns into lunchtime, Saturday morning, fútbol morning, Papi cleared his throat, probably he wanted to tell us something, but he did not look at us, and he did not say words. I slipped on my shin guards and my cleats (everybody so quiet, everybody moving slowly), and once more Papi cleared his throat, that rumble.
Papi and Mami — all morning this morning, all night last night — have been fighting, the long loud yells in their bedroom, the bad words, Puto! Maricón! and wet loud fat tongue throat saliva sounds, plus the long (very long) nothing-silence Papi made (after yells and cries, after screams and cries), nothing-silence comes from his face, nothing-silence sucks you in, nothing-silence makes you feel slippery and heavy and hot and want to go away, makes you afraid, nothing-silence pulls your stomach. Then, Bitch! Motherfucker! Cabrón! Joto! all night. In the morning, when Papi went to shower, Mami muttered something, muttered, Do you want your own cock? The nothing-silence Papi gave was long and horrible, his eyes locked, his forehead never moved, and Mami went on screaming again after that.
After he was dressed, Papi said to Emilio and me, To Heth’s! and we — los tres, the three, the men, the guys, los caballeros — walked to Heth’s. (The only Mexicans in Pittsburgh, Papi has said before. Can’t find a good burrito anywhere. What is ground beef doing in my enchilada? he has joked, shaking his head.) Here were we, the men, the cholos of Morningside, the Mexico of Morningside, of Pittsburgh, Papi carrying the yellow-and-blue ball and bright green cones, and I held all the cleats, and Emilio (little, brown, skinny, quiet) held the shin guards in a bundle to his chest. We moved down the red brick street to the place where Duffield meets Morningside Avenue and hooked left onto it. At the stop sign we turned right onto Hampton, and we walked down the little hill to Heth’s. Papi’s fútbol legs came down dark brown and strong, the muscles moving, lifting, sinking, lifting, as he walked. Emilio was in front, his small and round head, his hair that flopped when he stepped. And all around me was Pittsburgh, the skinny crooked streets of Morningside, the green fat trees on hills, and I felt that hot heavy wet heat of summer on my neck. And we, the three, los caballeros, moved down the hill to play fútbol. Papi cleared his throat again, his throat like wet cement, and in a minute he did it again. He looked up and he looked down. He said no words. That nothing-silence made me afraid.
I was tying my shoes and so was Emilio, and Papi cleared his throat again, looking at me, trying to say (no, I mean actually saying), Your mami, saying, She said you found—
8
I stopped tying my shoes. My body was a rock. A statue. A mountain. I held my breath. I pinched Emilio, who was sitting next to me. Pinched him to keep him quiet. Pinched him on the back where Papi could not see. With fingernails I pinched him, not with fingertips. Emilio jerked, barely, and he kept his mouth shut up. Papi tried again to say stuff, and I made my fingernails sink into Emilio, into his skin, and he stayed still, feeling it. Papi saying, Under the bookcase, where— And then Papi saying nothing. For a long time there was no sound and inside my body I felt everything move, like I wanted to poop, like I was up a tree in hide-and-seek, it was a something, a thing I cannot speak the name of, a what is it, a feeling like hunger, and like worry, and like joy, all these come together lifting me, plus the desire to weep and be covered, a cold heavy white smoke that moved through my stomach and arms and feet and face. Papi closed his eyes. Mierda! he said. Shit! Tie your shoes. Give me the ball.
9
Emilio and I in the tippy-top, night darkness up in here, our hiding place, the window open letting in soft wind, my fingers were touching and moving his thing. He licked me down there when I told him to, and I licked him down there and held him in my mouth. He lay sprawled on his bed while we were doing this — we were doing this, we were doing this — his eyes open, then closed, then open, now looking at the ceiling, now looking down at me, his mouth shut as he breathed through his nose. He stretched his legs, his feet, his toes, he stretched his arms and fingers, he stretched and stretched and every part of his body was tight, he moved his thing in my mouth while I licked, and licked, and licked, and I licked him until his body came loose again.
10
Fourth of July in the morning, Emilio and I were down the basement stairs, so quiet, saying lowly, No, don’t touch that step, it’s the loud one, while Mami and Papi stayed upstairs fighting, screams and nothing-silence, bad words and crying. Down in the garage, we were on our bikes, out the garage door, shutting it so no one heard. Get out before they hear us, I was thinking. We rode down Duffield to Garrett and Molly’s house, but no one was home. We rode to Luci’s. No one there either. Fourth of July means no one stays home. So in a little while we were at Heth’s, and we met the man Tony in the white T-shirt who had his dog and Frisbee, running the dog everywhere just like we did with Elsie sometimes.
11
Tony, in a white T-shirt, gray sweat shorts, white socks, yellow shoes, with hairy legs and arms and white skin and long brown hair, came over to us with his Frisbee. Tony said, Hi, I’m Tony. Happy Fourth! Tony said, Would you like to help me run Lewis? That’s Lewis, my dog. And Tony gave me the blue Frisbee and let me and Emilio throw it. Once, Lewis ran after it and then ran not back to us but under a tree at the edge of the field, and Tony laughed and said, Darn dog, he doesn’t always bring it back.
Tony said, I like your bikes, and Tony said, Look how far I can throw it! and he threw the Frisbee all the way across the fútbol field. Tony said, Are you coming back tonight, for the fireworks? We told him Mami and Papi said we were, but we didn’t know now. Tony asked Emilio and me, Do you think you can run as fast as Lewis? We called Lewis over and Tony said, Go! and Emilio and Lewis and I ran all the way across the field, and Lewis won.
Tony said, Let’s send Lewis on a hunt, and Tony threw the Frisbee into the little woods, those trees, those trees, and Tony said, Lewis! Lewis! Go get it, boy! But Lewis didn’t go. Go ahead, Lewis! Go on, boy! But Lewis didn’t move. Tony asked would we want to help him look for the Frisbee. I asked, What about poison ivy? Tony laughed and said, I’ll carry you if we see any. Let’s go!