Clap When You Land(49)

I am not a nobody. There is nowhere you can run where my family would not find you.

Don’t even think about it.”

Beside me Camino finds her voice.

“Give me back what you took. All of it.”

& when Tía hisses through her teeth the man throws a packet onto the sand.

Keeping Camino behind me, I bend to pick it up.

I don’t know what convinced him:

Mami’s confident belief in who she is

& her own power, Tía’s clear determination to kill the man if she must, or just the belief that none of this is worth it.

We stand there. Camino is crying into my back, & I’m shaking where I hug the arms she’s wrapped around my waist.

The moment he turns his back on us,

Mami’s face fills with relief.

She presses a trembling hand to her mouth before she shoos at me to get to the car.

Only Tía is unmoving, unflinching as she stares at the man walking toward the resort lights.

I worry for a second that she might chase him down, but as if I said it out loud, she looks at me & winks.

“Everyone gets what they deserve eventually, mi’ja.”

With glints in our eyes, dressed for dreaming, we walk back to the car.





I hold on to the person the one

who came

to take me

when I look at her I see lights a bright blue glow from behind her I hear a humming as if coming from the wind itself or as if the clouds swirl inside me calling on me to breathe

a purple black red burgundy light caresses my face they are here to take me they are here I press myself closer to Yahaira? & behind her the blue light becomes a woman, dressed in larimar.

Sharp knife in hand, she smiles all teeth.

The humming quiets, Tía, I realize, Tía’s voice has called the Saints.

Tía’s voice has come to take me all these women here to take me home.





At the house I help Camino out of her torn top. I try & reach for her jeans but it only forces her to cry harder.

So I slip her shoes off & help her sit on the bed.

I run to the bathroom to grab a towel I use to wipe the mud off her feet.

The moment she lies on her back

she rolls to throw up on the floor.

“Shock,” Tía says. “Who knows how long she was in the rain trying to think how to get away.”

Tía boils a cup of tea. Sits gently next to Camino, gives her small sips as she pets her hair.

I want to help Tía but have no idea what to do.

& so I climb into bed beside Camino, on her other side, tuck my chin into her shoulder.

Throw my arm around her middle.

Let her know she is safe.





I am in between dreams in one dream Yahaira

wraps around me

like one of those strangler figs.

I imagine she is that tree absorbing me I want to tell her I am sorry I want to tell her she is welcome but

before I get the words out I wake up in another dream in this one Tía has her face close to my face

her face is covered in tears I smell her warm scent of chamomile & honey

feel her hands on my cheek I am hers I am hers I am hers she says & she is right I dream my father

sits on the corner of the bed his weight

on the mattress on my heart

his head in his hands

he looks like an old man he is not supposed to be here he is gone he is gone?

When I wake up this last time sun peeks in through the window Yahaira is entwined alongside me I can feel her heart against my back I am sweating & I want to pull away, I want to bury in the safety.

From the kitchen, I hear Tía’s soft steps slow even from over there she knows I am awake.

I clear my eyes one more time because I can’t tell if there’s a figure in the corner or if it is just a wet pile of clothes but when I squint I see Yahaira’s mother dozing in a chair.





Fifty-Five Days After


The next morning I find Mami at the little table in front of the Saints drinking coffee.

I do not sit down before I speak.

“She needs to come back with us. Not because it’s what Papi wanted, but because it’s what she most needs.

What we most need.” Mami keeps her eyes straight ahead.

Her finger rubbing the smooth rim of the cup.

Mami doesn’t say anything in response.

She finishes her coffee, stands up.

She grabs her purse & drives out.

There was so much I had left to say:

That maybe a bad husband can still be a good parent.

That maybe he tried to be the best he knew how to be.

That he hurt her got caught up there’s no excuse.

But he is not here. He is not here. We are all that’s left.

Camino stumbles out of her bedroom looking like she’s been run over by a train.

I know that Camino’s pride is like ironing starch & she sprinkles it over herself until it stiffens her spine.

She didn’t tell anyone about the tuition bills.

She didn’t tell anyone about the man stalking her.

This whole time she’s swallowed her words like bitter pills not realizing they were slow-drip poison.

I do not know what is going to happen next.