the day dad died was not an easy day. victor and i were around the ages of 14 and 12. we were playing basketball at the front of the house with a couple of the neighborhood kids. even though it had only been twenty minutes, i was already getting tired of playing. i was sort of overweight at the time. plus, victor allowed this mean kid named gabe to play with us. he always had jokes to crack about me. i just wanted to go back inside already.
before i could tell victor i was done playing, our mom ran out the front door and straight into her car. victor and i shared a quick look before running up to her car door. she rolled down the window to reveal a petrified look.
something bad must have happened for it to have terrified our mother. mrs. angelina cervantes was scared of nothing and nobody. she was hard as steel. our mom had a tough upbringing, growing up in spanish harlem with dominican parents. they traveled long and far to a place completely contrastive from the island. mom always talked about how our abuelitos could not get the "island" out of their mouth. she didn't hate dr, but she grew to have a certain perspective of how the island must be. although, she's only been twice so she's biased.
"i h-have to go to hospital," she managed to choke out. she examined both of our faces, probably analyzing what she'll say next. our mother takes a deep breath and smiled. "i love you two. i'll call you soon, so i expect both of you to be inside waiting for it." her smile dropped and she quickly reversed out onto the street.
victor and i were left standing confused on an empty driveway with just the sounds of tires screeching and soft basketball dribbles.
that was nine years ago.
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my phone alarm was blaring at the same time i heard a knock at my door. i called out, "come in!" to who i assume was fatima. i reached over to my nightstand and turned the distressing alarm off. fatima entered my bedroom dressed in a blue matching workout set that perfectly complimented her brown skin. her curly hair was pulled back into a slick high ponytail. she had her blue airpods max around her neck; and in her hands, she had her phone and her blue hydro flask.
"buenos días!!" fatima said in the best spanish accent she could muster. she's been my friend long enough that it sounds perfect. i couldn't be prouder. "luci, what are you doing? it's 7:30, we should be having açaí bowls right now."
i rolled my eyes and flipped over in my bed. we have been on this recent health kick. about a year and a half ago, i decided to lost about 50 pounds and get into shape. i met fatima around the same time. since we were moving in the same dorm, actually ended up we finding each other on social media. she was a good thirty minute drive from me, but we still meet up once a week. fatima is a child athlete. she's been in soccer since she was four, and as a matter of fact, she was scouted by txst to play for their team. fati was the best motivation for me at the time. she kept me accountable, but always made me feel good about myself. after i reached a waist size of 29 and a hip size of 41, i decided to cool down. i mean, shit, this goal had once seemed unachievable, and yet i had achieved it.
that was three months ago. now, for the past week fati has been on my ass about hitting the gym and eating right.
fatima smacks me on what would be my butt if there wasn't three blankets over it. "come on, luciana! you're birthday is coming up, you think you're gonna get invited into a section with that attitude?"
