LatinosUSA

Friday night. They stayed up late streaming animations and forking peas and shells with white cheddar and then she lifted his lifeless little body and carried him to bed and washed and dried the dishes and put them on the rack. She was happy in her thoughts. You’re getting so big but I can still carry you. She turned on the radio and went about the chores before inertia got the best of her; it made a bloody fool out of you, like a chain hooked to your collar attached to a truck dragging you toward the black hole of phone staring blindness.

Early morning the whippoorwill called and she got a hoodie and went for a walk around the pond and saw the damage; the felled trees and saplings it had dragged to the water’s edge. The pump station was now visible where before it had been concealed. It left its signature gnaw marks in the bigger trees still standing, willow and maple, and fresh wood chips on the ground.

So. This is how we will remember you.

The city had sent a crew to stop the bleeding and wrapped the surviving trees’ trunks with mesh wire. She spoke with them and asked what they intended to do. They lied. They said they hoped to trap and release it into the wild. Lie. Santa Cruz mountains. Lie. There’s a shortage of them down there … Lies, all fuckin’ lies!  A neighbor told her what really happened. It was enormous. Took three grown men to roll it on a tarp and lift and swing it into the truck bed. So they sedated it? She presumed. No, no, it was dead from the poison.

Imagine being born into a world that did not want you. Or worse, she thought, wanted to take you out. It wasn’t its fault it lived on a pond on the edge of a city of over a half a million souls. She was mad. She was sad. Its giant teeth would never again sink into woody flesh. Its big flat tail would never flatten the rot into a natural dam. She wished her son could have seen it in action but it worked under cover of darkness.

The most recent exchange had been disgraceful. Her ex brought his girlfriend along and they met at the agreed upon location. Bella Bru Café. They showed up well past the allotted time. She had begged him not to bring her but it fell on deaf ears. To give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he had spoken to her. Maybe an argument turned into a fight and girlfriend won. She always won. She was cooking and tidying his place and doing his laundry. Maybe she withheld sex? Maybe he forgot or did not care.

Her son was wedged in between them in the front seat of his truck. Noted. There was an extended cab and by law they should have had him in the child seat. Girlfriend wanted to test her. Girlfriend wanted to prove something. Now she was bitching at him. Probably on the rag or hungover …. Okay, quit it. Be nice. She couldn’t help but stare as girlfriend tumbled out mid-sentence with weak complaints on her lips – and – note the flat skinny ass.

She kept a fair distance. The cheap perfume. Her kid hugged his father goodbye then looked to her like he wanted to teleport into her arms but girlfriend got in the way and demanded a hug and he gave her a poor rendition and she forced a kiss on his head and was mooning and sunbeaming him like they had some deep connection. Don’t take the poison. He halfway smiled and nodded and got on his tiptoes and took flight.

All that mattered was feeling his heartbeat, pitter patter, against her chest. Girlfriend you no longer exist. They went for groceries. He ran down the frozen aisles hollering for ice cream. She would not refuse him, not after the drama. Oh yeah, mom, that’s right! That’s right! He was shouting out like he discovered gravity. Mom! Mom! Look! She pushed the cart to the end where he was showcasing a box he pulled out of a freezer. Corn Dogs!! He was pulling his hair, going out of his mind. It was like he invented electricity and just flipped the switch.

Go ahead, sweety. Toss it in the cart.

Terrible news from her brother gave inertia the edge and it won. Dad’s got dementia, he said. She rarely spoke to their parents anymore. They lived in a swamp in Florida. They brought their politics into conversations. They were so far off in lalaland it made it hard to listen and harder to interject and share the sweet anecdotes that come with raising a kid. Don’t take the poison. She called and they had a long talk for the first time in months and he seemed happy to hear from his only daughter but it wasn’t going to bring them closer. He messaged her a day later and the words were hard to read. I love you and I appreciate your concern but I will not be reaching out because we have so little in common.

Her brother said, Dad is looking into buying property in Oregon. Why Oregon? He had said he was thinking about shooting himself and her brother had to tell him not to because mom would be the one to find him. So they discussed assisted suicide and where it was legal. She thanked the gods for her brother. She was already drowning. She felt weak like it was somehow her fault.

Two solid hours of phone-staring blindness. Doctor’s orders.

Saturday night. They ate strawberry ice cream and watched a film starring a cat who was alone trying to survive. A flood was causing the waters to rise and he outran a pack of dogs chasing him and was ever seeking higher ground. Her kid connected so deeply he began to worry and cry and balled his fists. She paused it and offered to put on something else.

No, no! Turn it back on, mom. The poor kitty!

He was like her. He felt a lot. Cared maybe too much for this world. Unlike her, he refused to turn away. She could see the resemblance of her dad in him. So. This is how I will remember you ….

And what a world it was. You could be living your best life, doing what you the gods made you to do, and still get robbed and left for dead. She wanted to believe the best in people but the longer she lived her optimism felt more like spec fiction. His message really disturbed her. She was eyeballing the poison. Her kid cried all the tears he had and fell asleep before they even got to the good part. She held him with one arm and wrote back with the other … I love you, too. And if you ever wanna talk, I’m here for you. And my kid is here for you, too. I disagree with you Dad. We have 99.999999999999% more in common than everyone else.