Clap When You Land(23)

He rarely did that, said billiards

wasn’t a place for children, especially not his child.

But on this night he wanted to show off

my trophy to his employees & friends.

Surprised me with a cake & a glass of Coke he had splashed with a little bit of rum.

He pressed a code into the jukebox

so that bachata songs blared out for free all night.

My father left the country a few weeks later.

I stopped playing chess soon after.





I am quiet on the train ride home.

My head against Dre’s shoulder

as her breath puffs softly into my hair.

She knows I hate riding the train alone; it’s one of the reasons I think

she pressed to come with me tonight.

The last time I played chess

I won, against a boy named Manny who I’d played against before— he always smiled at me across the table, held my hand too long when we shook & took both his wins & losses gracefully— but this is not a story about Manny; this is a story about winning,

about feeling on top of the world, of feeling like a star had risen inside me & maybe was shining on my face or glittering off my trophy last summer as I stood on the train station platform & prepared to go home.

Papi was in DR at the time, so I attended the match alone.

It was daytime & the train was packed & I got on with my back to a man who leaned against the train doors—





& when I felt a squeeze on my leg I thought it was an accident & when I felt fingers float up my thighs I thought I must be mistaken & when he palmed me under my skirt openhanded I dropped my trophy but did not scream, did not make a scene did not curse him out there was no strategy no alternate plan no way to win, there was just me stuck, & being felt up on a public train racing northbound heart breath sick lost anger has no place on the board I was impotent in my feeling never let them see you sweat dripped on my brow

I don’t think I liked it. It lasted more than one stop more than two more than three

do you know what I mean

my body was not my body could not be mine he got off at Ninety-Sixth Street I did not pick my trophy off the train floor I did not cry until I got home until Dre came in through the window & saw me trembling & held me close & did not ask me anything but still knew still must have known how she ran the bath & folded my skirt into the farthest corner of my closet & we never spoke of it

I did not cry over it again but I knew I needed to speak to Papi

I hoped he’d have some words of wisdom,

some response. But when I called he did not answer.





Once I unfroze from what happened on the train, I tried frantically to reach him.

I wanted to speak to the most protective man in my life; I wanted him to undo it somehow.

I had a match in two days, & I wanted to tell Papi I didn’t want to go. I needed a break.

I don’t know why I felt like I needed his permission.

After three days with no reply,

I opened the cabinet where Papi put all his business papers in a folder.

But the only papers were for the billiards here.

Nothing with a Dominican area code.

Then at the bottom of the cabinet, half hidden by other files, covered in dust, was the sealed envelope.

I knew I should put it back.

I knew it wasn’t what I was looking for.

But I opened it anyway.





After what I found & what happened on the train.

I skipped two tournaments.

Ones that had been difficult to qualify for.

But on the evening of the third tournament.

Papi called me huffing & puffing.

He’d received an email from the tournament commission.

Disqualifying me from any other summer matches.

When I answered the phone.

Papi did not ask if everything was okay.

I did not ask why he read that email

but none of my texts, replied to none of my phone calls.

He did not let me get a word in.

He didn’t ask why I answered with so much anger.

& the truth is I don’t think I would have told.

About the man & the hand up my skirt. In my panties.

About the certificate in the file cabinet that made my father a liar.

But I’ll never know. What I would have said.

Because Papi did not ask.

He only lectured me & told me he was disappointed.

After he hung up. I whispered into the phone.

All the ways that I was disappointed in him.

If Papi wanted my silence.

I vowed that day that he would get it.

When Papi came home.

A few weeks before school began back up.

He ranted & raved to Mami that I had grown stubborn.

He would walk into a room & yell I needed to grow up.

I would simply go into my room.

Or climb through Dre’s window.

To escape having to look my father in the face.





Twenty-One Days After


It’s the last day of school.

I walk through the school hallways like an alien has crept into my body.

My arms don’t work like they used to.

I try to raise them to pick up my report card.