Clap When You Land(50)

But I cannot will not leave without her.





Yahaira’s mother comes back to the house

after midday.

& for some reason,

I am waiting for a lecture on how I acted irresponsibly: how I stole from her daughter, how I need to return her money, how I am no fit sister to her child.

I almost hope she does say any of those things

so I can loose all the angry things I hope to say back.

But Yahaira’s mother does not say anything.

She sits in the rocking chair next to mine & our squeaking chairs hold their own conversation.

I peek at her from the corner of my eyes.

She is a beautiful lady,

but the skin beneath her eyes is smudged with exhaustion.

As if she feels my gaze on hers she speaks: “You needed a mother,

& I wasn’t sure

I could be that to you.

Your mother & I were friends, you know, we were good, good friends once.

I thought I would look at you & see her betrayal on your skin.

See your father’s faithlessness in your eye.

I did it to protect myself.

I was so softhearted

when it came to your father.

I didn’t want the sight of you to undo me.”

Yahaira’s mother takes out a folder from her purse.

She passes it to me.

I scan the sheet quickly.

It’s an emergency appointment for a visa scheduled for three days’ time.

I look up; the questions must be shining from my eyes.

“With us, you’ll come with us.

You cannot stay here.

That man will come back.

Angrier, as they always do.

It is not safe. Your Tía agrees.

& it is what your father wanted.

The interview was scheduled for late August anyway. I went to speak with my cousin to ensure they could push it up.”

What I wanted. What I wanted.

For so long. How bittersweet a realized dream can be flavored.





Does anyone ever want to leave their home?

The fresh fruit that drops from their backyard?

The neighbors who wiped their snot?

Does anyone ever

want to believe they won’t come back?

To the dog that sniffs their heel,

to the bed that holds the echo of their body?

Is there relief in pretending it is temporary, that one day it will be safe? That I will once again wave to the kind school bus driver;

that I’ll hold Carline’s baby before he grows, having never known me? They have no palm trees in New York City, no leaves to shade me, to brush against my cheeks like my mother’s hands.

There is no one over there, alive or buried, who held me as a child, who cradled me close, who fed me from their table, who wiped my knees when I fell & scraped them. Here, despite the bad & ugly, is my home. & now I wish that I could stay. Does anyone ever want to leave the place they love?





While Yahaira & her mother run errands, I join Tía on a round of the neighborhood.

I haven’t seen El Cero in days, but both Tía & I keep our heads on a swivel.

The last house we visit is the house

of the old woman with cancer.

I pet Vira Lata & order him to wait outside.

I am nervous of what we’ll find behind the door.

But when Tía knocks, I see she also pulls a key out.

I look at her with a question in my eyes.

“One of the neighborhood boys installed a lock; he gave a group of us copies so we could get in & out.

It’s safer for her that way.” Inside I see the sheets have been changed recently, & a vase near the window holds field flowers.

I put my hand on the woman’s brow

& she turns her head into my hand.

When I press my fingers to her stomach the lump there seems to have grown smaller.

I shake my head at Tía; none of this makes sense.

She squeezes my hand.





Carline comes over that night.

She brings a small wrapped box

& wishes me a happy belated birthday.

I hold her tightly before I introduce her to Yahaira’s mother; she had not met her at the funeral.

Carline must be surprised by the woman but does not let on.

She tells me Luciano has been breathing better, & he even cried for the first time. His lungs: clearer, stronger. I have hope he will live.

We do not say the word milagro, but I know that like a flame,

Tía wrought a miracle & Carline nurtured it.

I squeeze her hand

& an idea spins in my head.

Tía refuses to leave here. She says she is needed.

But she is going to require help when I’m gone, & she needs new blood to teach.

Carline’s house is packed to the brim with people but here is a house that will sit mostly empty, & an apprenticeship that she would be perfect for.

Having Nelson around the house would be helpful, & Tía loves little more than a baby to cradle, a family to feed.

I will broach the idea with Tía tomorrow, the Saints in my ears whisper, sí mi’ja, sí mi’ja, sí.





Yahaira’s mother takes me to the clinic to get a health report; the civil registry office