Chapter 2: Llora con Mami
Angel looked around his nearly empty room. He would miss this place so much. It had taken him so long to pack all of his things, probably because he had been crying the entire time. He didn't want to leave. He knew if he did stay against his father's will, however, he would be beaten, badly. His father had beaten him numerous times before, and he had the bruises and scars to prove it, but he knew nothing would be as bad as feeling the wrath of his father after he came out. The beatings were one thing Angel wouldn't miss.
The last thing he packed was the framed picture of his family. He, Mami, and Papi went on vacation in Peru three years ago to see Mami's side of the family. They were all smiling, and, for once, Papi wasn't drunk. He was smiling, too. He stared deeply into the happy, amber eyes of his 14 year old self, and then looked into the identical pair of eyes on his mother.
"Mami," he said out loud. She was such a loving, caring woman. Angel's eyes welled up with tears as he looked at the picture of her. "I'll miss you." He spoke again. With one last glance around the room, he carried a suitcase in each hand and dragged them down the hallway.
As he began to approach the kitchen, he could hear the faint cry of his mother. He looked into the dark room and saw Mami, sitting at the table, holding a sparkling golden cross in her hand, praying in Spanish. Papi looked on with icicle eyes, showing no emotion, whatsoever. Although he knew his father could no longer stand the sight of him, Angel walked into the kitchen, knelt down beside his mother, and held her hand, gently.
"Mi hijo," she whispered, my son, as Angel held her tightly.
"Te amo, Mamita," Angel whispered, and continued, almost inaudibly into her ear, "Me queda a Lenny's, escribame alla."
His mother looked up at him, and said, once again, "Mi hijo." This brought a new wave of fresh tears, as she buried her face in her hands.
"Go," his father commanded. Angel slowly stood up from his knees, looked his father straight in the eye, and stated, firmly, "I love you, Papi."
Breaking their stare, his father glanced downward. Angel picked up his suitcases, and quietly left, taking his first step into the blistering cold. Alone.
He looked back into the house, watching his mother drop to the ground. He could hear her screaming, "Mi niño," from outside. Angel began to walk to Lenny's, wiping away frozen tears.
Angel looked around his nearly empty room. He would miss this place so much. It had taken him so long to pack all of his things, probably because he had been crying the entire time. He didn't want to leave. He knew if he did stay against his father's will, however, he would be beaten, badly. His father had beaten him numerous times before, and he had the bruises and scars to prove it, but he knew nothing would be as bad as feeling the wrath of his father after he came out. The beatings were one thing Angel wouldn't miss.
The last thing he packed was the framed picture of his family. He, Mami, and Papi went on vacation in Peru three years ago to see Mami's side of the family. They were all smiling, and, for once, Papi wasn't drunk. He was smiling, too. He stared deeply into the happy, amber eyes of his 14 year old self, and then looked into the identical pair of eyes on his mother.
"Mami," he said out loud. She was such a loving, caring woman. Angel's eyes welled up with tears as he looked at the picture of her. "I'll miss you." He spoke again. With one last glance around the room, he carried a suitcase in each hand and dragged them down the hallway.
As he began to approach the kitchen, he could hear the faint cry of his mother. He looked into the dark room and saw Mami, sitting at the table, holding a sparkling golden cross in her hand, praying in Spanish. Papi looked on with icicle eyes, showing no emotion, whatsoever. Although he knew his father could no longer stand the sight of him, Angel walked into the kitchen, knelt down beside his mother, and held her hand, gently.
"Mi hijo," she whispered, my son, as Angel held her tightly.
"Te amo, Mamita," Angel whispered, and continued, almost inaudibly into her ear, "Me queda a Lenny's, escribame alla."
His mother looked up at him, and said, once again, "Mi hijo." This brought a new wave of fresh tears, as she buried her face in her hands.
"Go," his father commanded. Angel slowly stood up from his knees, looked his father straight in the eye, and stated, firmly, "I love you, Papi."
Breaking their stare, his father glanced downward. Angel picked up his suitcases, and quietly left, taking his first step into the blistering cold. Alone.
He looked back into the house, watching his mother drop to the ground. He could hear her screaming, "Mi niño," from outside. Angel began to walk to Lenny's, wiping away frozen tears.