Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9
“Do you know when those crazy gringos found you they wanted to give you a good Catholic name? They plopped open a bible and let a shot glass just spin, until it finally magnified something besides Jesus.”
“So?” I replied. I kept trying to remember how she looked a few months ago.
“Ezekiel is a Jewish name, caramelo,” she laughed, as the signal changed.
The Life Line
The next day I found myself at a park, up a tree, and wondering if Esperanza had delivered me into the soft manicured hands of an escaped mental patient. We were out the door at nine o’clock, but we didn’t actually leave the group home, until a half-hour later. One of the assistants made a smug comment as Esperanza shoved my sleepy behind out the door. I heard him say something about a serial killer in training, before Esperanza turned around and chewed his ass out for thirty-minutes. When she finally got into the car, she handed me the newest edition of Dracula: Generation X. She started to violently cough, until she hacked up a naked oyster.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Fine…I’m going to report that Pendejo,” she whispered.
“So, how would you like to meet some real live gypsies?” she asked, pulling out of the parking lot. At the time, I thought she was just messing with me, so I just gave her the classic zombie nod. The hum of the morning traffic allowed me to become fully absorbed into New York’s undead gang scene. The legendary battle between the Bloods and Crypt Kickers was just about to pop off because some little jit had to go and steal a fresh batch of Type O. However, Esperanza kept interrupting the pre-fight smack talk with her sudden and annoying need to reminisce.
“Do you know how you got that scar above your right eye?” she asked, as we made our way down Sunrise Boulevard. I laid down my comic with an agitated sigh.
“The staff nurses said that I hit my head on my crib,” I replied.
“Hah! Those chicas don’t know their asses from their elbows,” she laughed, lighting a cigarette.
“A cat came by and took a piece of you, while you were outside of that fire station.”
“No way! That’s BS!”
“Si! The doctors wouldn’t release you to Child Services, until they pumped you full of rabies shots.” I flipped down the mirror to find something that would discredit her story. The little, pink crescent rose high above my brow line, and it managed to totally eclipse some of my Eczema. The other kids used to say that my black ass was full of strawberry filling because of it. I glared at it trying to decide whether the lines around it were teeth marks or from my habit of rolling my eyes at anyone over the age of twenty. Before I could voice my alternative theory, we pulled up to a park and she banished me to the play ground with a wave of her hand.
About an hour later, a woman on a bright purple Vespa pulled up right next to Esperanza’s car and tapped on the window. Immediately, Esperanza jumped out and smothered her cheeks with ceremonious kisses. I darted out from my reading nook under the slide and decided to do some aerial recon. A large Banyan tree stood watch over the playground, and I let its vein-like roots guide me to the center high above the sand box turf wars and the monkey bar beat downs. Adults always seem to forget that all forms of prejudice really start from simple shovel stealing and swing set hogging.
I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but as soon as the Vespa lady removed her helmet and alien goggles, I saw a creature straight out of an Aryan Brother’s wet dream. Her hair was so blond, it almost seemed silver, and her eyes reminded me of sad stained glass. Immediately, I thought back to all the other white foster parents that had sent me packing and estimated that this wouldn’t last a week.
“Crackers just love feelin’ all guilty and shit,” I said, picking up where I had left off in my comic. In the middle of Grand Master Teeth’s victory speech, I looked up to see Esperanza searching the playground and calling my name. I was about to climb down when a strange whisper floated up from the base of the tree.
“Need a hand?” The Vespa lady stood there on a large root with her wispy fingers extended in my direction. Her accent was pure Kraut, but not at all on the sour side. I decided to show off and jump down, but years of ducking out of gym class had finally managed to catch up to me. Before I face planted, she quickly grabbed my hand to steady me. She let her delicate marble mitts inch along my palm, before she gasped, “Look at this beautiful life line. It’s broken, but it curves… oh… so delicately to the right. You must be quite the traveler.”
“Um…Thanks” I replied, stepping down.
“You must be, Ezekiel. I’m Marija Saskia,” she said, with a dainty bow.
“Nice to meet you,” I growled. I learned from my first few brushes with adults that manners prove nothing except that you are willing to play head games with them. My busy reading schedule allotted me no time for that shit.
“Aye Dios Mio, You scared me half to death,” Esperanza screamed, running in our direction.
Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9
About Christina Ginfrida
