They were both quiet these days, in that tiny apartment surrounded by people of their own race. It felt like a dream a long time ago anymore. Bernardo was ntohing but another prince in a fairytale, written in the pages next to the stories of a dashing Anton and his bride Maria. Her own name had gotten lost in the ink somewhere. It was funny, though; there was no happy ending for her or Maria verses all the other princesses. Maybe they weren't princesses in the first place, just cruel examples for children to explain what not to follow.
New York was still the same as before, except now the hopeful sparkle she had found vanished that awful night and hadn't come back since. Sometimes she swore he could hear the sarcastic voice of Bernardo calling something from her bedroom, but when she arrived all she saw was the swishing of her curtains. On such a night, she would cross the tiny room between her room and Maria's to find solace in the other, but every time she saw the girl she was doing nothing but sitting on her bed with her head in her hands. The little girl she was disappeared with her Tony and Bernardo.
"Is this how it's like?" Maria asked one night as she lay on the couch. "Growing up?"
Anita only sighed, "Nothing to do but move on."
"But I don't want to forget."
There was a tense pause. "Me either."
They often sat silently together on the roof of their building, watching the boys that used to belong in rival gangs walk by each other and wave a hand. "It's funny," Maria started one day, "that it took all of this for them to stop fighting."
"There's a lot of funny things in this world," Anita responded. "I have a feeling this won't be the first time."
"I miss him."
A tear plopped on Anita's finger. She had the urge to reach out and hug her, but she knew Maria wouldn't feel anything. She knew she herself wouldn't feel anything. Nothing made her skin crawl or drew her laughter out. She was numb to everything accept for the thought of Bernardo. But even that was starting to fade into a stale memory from yesterday.
Her bed was too empty for her liking. She normally threw her mattress outside her room, sleeping on the floor instead. Maria joined her sometimes. Anita would wake up to see her shoulders shaking and hear her stifled sobs. If she wasn't in the same situation she would whisper things into Maria's ear and hold her until her sadness became too much for her to stay awake. However, in the reality they lived in, Anita could do nothing but shed a tear for Maria, another tear for Tony, and two more for Bernardo.
She hated America.