*** The other night, I had a dream that you and I were on a beach in
Mexico***
The cab driver pulled to a stop in front of a small, dilapidated concrete building that featured overgrown bushes and a dozen neon beer signs in the windows.
"This it?"
"Yeah. Thanks, man." I reached across to the seat in front of me and handed him a twenty. "Keep the change." From the delighted look on his face, I figured I owed him a lot less than that. Before I got out, I glanced once more at my brother's bodega and sighed. With a hopeful heart, I picked up my duffel bag and opened the door. I stepped slowly into the warm evening air, a light tropical breeze tousling my ponytail. I shut the cab door and the driver slowly pulled away, heading down the disheveled street.
I climbed the front steps up to my brother's bodega, my duffel bag in one hand and my Nextel in the other. Reggaeton thumped loud and crisp through the open windows, its thick bass rolling over me, and suddenly I knew I was home. I pounded on the metal screen door.
"Yeah," called a deep voice. When I didn't answer, Rey swaggered up to the other side of the screen, his footsteps soft. I almost didn't recognize him. His black hair was in cornrows; he had fierce tattoos down his huge arms, and had a little hoop pierced through each one of his nipples. He blew a thick puff of Mary Jane smoke into my face through the screen as he peered into my eager eyes.
"Leticia."
The cab driver pulled to a stop in front of a small, dilapidated concrete building that featured overgrown bushes and a dozen neon beer signs in the windows.
"This it?"
"Yeah. Thanks, man." I reached across to the seat in front of me and handed him a twenty. "Keep the change." From the delighted look on his face, I figured I owed him a lot less than that. Before I got out, I glanced once more at my brother's bodega and sighed. With a hopeful heart, I picked up my duffel bag and opened the door. I stepped slowly into the warm evening air, a light tropical breeze tousling my ponytail. I shut the cab door and the driver slowly pulled away, heading down the disheveled street.
I climbed the front steps up to my brother's bodega, my duffel bag in one hand and my Nextel in the other. Reggaeton thumped loud and crisp through the open windows, its thick bass rolling over me, and suddenly I knew I was home. I pounded on the metal screen door.
"Yeah," called a deep voice. When I didn't answer, Rey swaggered up to the other side of the screen, his footsteps soft. I almost didn't recognize him. His black hair was in cornrows; he had fierce tattoos down his huge arms, and had a little hoop pierced through each one of his nipples. He blew a thick puff of Mary Jane smoke into my face through the screen as he peered into my eager eyes.
"Leticia."