Clap When You Land(30)

against his small dark cheek.

I read somewhere

that even this little, when they sleep babies can dream.

Since I do not have my father’s pull, I cannot make empty promises about jobs or positions I can get for Carline.

“I just wish I could stay with my baby.

If only I could make miracles like Tía.”

Tía already has an apprentice. Me.

& even I cannot wield miracles the way she can.

I don’t want to make light of what Carline just told me.

I also know she needs a distraction.

So I tell her about my sister.

I tell her I reached out.

Carline gasps at all the right moments & clutches my hand.

She nods in agreement.

“You did what you had to do, Camino.”

I am not the kind of girl who looks for approval.

But a weight lifts off my chest.

I did what must be done.





Camino Yahaira


The last time I saw my parents kiss I was pretty small.

But it’s still hard to hear that your own mother wasn’t happy.

Papi was always smiling, always full of words & joy.

I wish I knew the rift

that grew this sea between them.

I used to think it was me, that Papi & I had chess.

That maybe Mami was jealous it wasn’t something she shared.

But even when I started painting nails & asking about her job Mami still had an air around Papi, like he was a medicine she knew she needed even as she cringed at the taste.

But now I wonder

if it was always more than that.

Maybe Mami knew about the other woman?

Even without seeing the certificate.

I think of how the word unhappy houses so many unanswered questions.





Thirty-One Days After


Tía Lidia comes to dinner Monday night.

It is mostly silent until she asks me about my college essay; I mention I’m rethinking the schools I want to apply to.

Mami looks up from her plate of arroz con guandules, surprised.

“Just because I’m not your father doesn’t mean I don’t care.

You didn’t tell me you scrapped your list, Yahaira.

We only have each other, you know. & he,

he always had more people in his life than he needed.”

Her tone is a serrated knife.

I become a feast of anger.

But before I can reply to her

she throws her fork down on the plate & leaves,

dragging her footsteps so her chancletas slur drunkenly to her room.

Tía Lidia puts her hand over mine. “Your mother is having a tough time. Their marriage wasn’t easy, & she has so much she’s dealing with. Yano was a great father to you, & I know you loved him, but he wasn’t always a great husband.”

& I don’t know how one man can be so many different things to the people he was closest to. But I nod. I almost slip & ask does everyone know? But if they don’t I can’t be the one to reveal the dirt on my father’s name.





Once, I had a tournament in Memphis.

Both Mami & Papi came.

It’s a happy memory. Not just because I won but because we went on a boat tour

of the Mississippi River. & the sun shone bright, & the tour guide had this amazing voice that made you want to lean into his words.

& he kept saying, “Ships have gone down in this water, gold has been lost here, the banks have eroded, cities have been built & destroyed at its shores, tribes have crossed it & never crossed back.

But the Mississippi rises & falls; it rises & falls.

Everything changes, but the water rises & falls.”

& for some reason, I think of that memory & that tournament as Mami huffs around the house.

Some things continue forever. Maybe anger is like a river, maybe it crumbles everything around it, maybe it hides so many skeletons beneath the rolling surface.





Thirty-Five Days After


For the first time in weeks, I log on to social media.

I have comments from friends.

I have reminders of birthdays & events, & I have one new friend request from a girl I don’t know in Sosúa, Dominican Republic.

She has my same last name: Rios. Camino Rios.

She is slightly lighter complexioned than my velvet brown,

her eyes are big & piercing, & her smile looks familiar.

There is a message with the request, but I can’t stop looking at her profile picture.

Because this Camino girl isn’t alone in the photo; she is in a red bathing suit, my father’s arm thrown around her shoulders as they laugh in the sunlight.

An awful sinking feeling

almost stops my breath.





A feeling I cannot name is growing in my chest.

It is large & large & large & before it expands inside my throat & chokes me, I yell for Mami.

She shuffles into the room

with more speed than I’ve seen her demonstrate in days.

I point to the screen:

“Have you ever seen this picture?

I don’t know this girl. Why is he with this girl?”

On a hard breath, she slaps her hand against her chest, as if trying to press a pause button on her heart.