How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water (6)

But you know what Fernando did the next day? He told his teacher I pushed him and showed her the small bump in the back of his head—a mosquito bite. And the teacher gave a report of abuse to the authorities. Abuse! The next week they came to do an inspection in the apartment. They asked me many questions. They looked in the refrigerator to see if there was food. They looked in his room to see if he had sheets on the bed. But, of course, they saw that in my house Fernando had more than any children need.

I couldn’t look at him. He broke my heart. I told him: You want to live in a house with strange people who take the money from the government to buy the drugs? Is that what you want?

No, Mami, I’m so sorry. He cried like a baby. He didn’t think of the consequences.

Only a mother knows this suffering. If ángela was not watching me, I would have taken the chancleta and given him a real pela.

Years later, when Fernando left and didn’t come back, ángela was very angry at me. She’s wrong to say that it’s my fault. She doesn’t think I’m a good mother because she says that Fernando was afraid of me. But she doesn’t understand.

I taught him what to do when the policía stopped him. If they ask him where’s he going. Or what he’s doing. Or where he’s coming from. I told him not to yell or curse. To be polite and always show the hands. To take a breath and ask, am I under arrest? To ask, am I free to go? And under no circumstance, never, to walk away until the policía says it’s OK to go.

Did your mother teach you this? No? You see, this is why I am a good mother. Because many mothers don’t teach their children how to be with the policía and we have tragedies because of this. The policía do not take care of our children. We have to take care of them.

I told Fernando to stay far away from those chupacabras from the neighborhood. To use me like an excuse. Call me whatever name he wants—as long as everybody understood that my eyes were glued on him.

At least, when he was living with me, he never went to the prison. He never impregnated a girl. And he did good in the school. All of this is success to me.



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And when ángela and our brother Rafa arrived to New York with eyes shut and open mouths, I had to take care of them too. ángela had twenty-five years, Rafa had thirty-two years. They were adults, but the sight of snow blinded them. For some years we lived together. We worked all of the time. They were my responsibility. But it was good because we were close and I think happy together.

After Rafa went to live with Miguelina, ángela stayed with me. In those years, ángela took Fernando to every place because she wanted to know New York. Fernando translated for her. To learn English they went together to many movies. I did everything possible so that ángela could study and be a professional. I even worked Saturdays and Sundays sometimes. Two, even three jobs, so she could focus on getting the diploma.

Instead of buying something for me, I made sure my son and my sister had what they needed so they could progress. I was the one that registered ángela for the program ESL. I was the one that helped her get the GED diploma. And from the day she landed in the Kennedy airport, I got the job for her in the factory so that she could make money. I helped ángela to get an apartment in the building so Hernán could move with her and they could start their life together.

Did I think about my future? No. Do you think she remembers that it was me who saved her from some burro destroying her life? No. In Hato Mayor, there are no choices for women like us. So many of my primas have more children than I can count, with different fathers who contribute nothing. Without my sacrifice, ángela wouldn’t have all those diplomas in the wall. She wouldn’t have all those fancy downtown friends. Now she walks around here with her nose pa’rriba.



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Ay, I need some more water. Will you permit me to get some? Thank you.

Ever since the operation, I’m thirsty like never.

That’s right, I had an operation a few days before our first meeting. Did you see I was dying from the pain that week? Of course you didn’t. And did I cancel our meeting? No. Even when I feel like I’m dying from the pain, I keep my commitments.

Now you look horrified. Don’t worry. I’m fine. I just had a cyst removed.

You see, a few months ago, I felt a pain in the left side. And I hadn’t been to a doctor in a long time because I don’t have the insurance. But when my friend Glendaliz got cancer in the colon, I had the feeling to get checked too. Because of me, Glendaliz was able to discover her cancer early. The cancer on her skin smelled like mangoes, the kind you find in the playa. They smell both salty and sweet. Even over the smell of the cake I made for Glendaliz’s son—when she hugged me, all my little hairs on my arms stood up.

Yes, I have an incredible sense of smell. It’s my friend and my enemy. Certain smells can give me a pain in the head that makes me walk around like the ceiling is falling on top of me. But what can I do? I have a nose like a dog. You see that bump right here? It looks like I broke it, but no, that’s God’s pinch.

When I was young I didn’t understand why some human smells, the little smells that people don’t sense, gave me a pain in the head. But now I understand. You wouldn’t believe how many people I’ve saved or could have saved from big things if they had only listened to my nose.