Her Name is Memory

04| gentle smile

CHAPTER 4

You close your eyes and say a prayer
That for a moment
You can be free from all their hate

~Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

"THANKS AGAIN, LEANNE. YOU'RE THE BEST," David thanked the waitress.

In her checkered dress and white apron wrapped around her hips, the brunette woman smiled at David.

"Anything for you. Consider it on me for coming by the other day and fixing my car," the waitressed smile flirtatiously at David before she walked towards the other occupied tables. The hollering of orders at the back to the live music of the jukebox brought the diner to life. The checkered floor to the red lining with various of items hanging from the wall captured a fifties vibe.

Taking a bite of the food, I chewed it thoughtfully.

"How are you liking the fried catfish?" David asked me.

Mid-chew, I looked down at the breadcrumb crusted item, and dropped my fork.

"You told me this was fish," I immediately groaned, my tongue becoming stiff with the food already in my mouth.

"Catfish is a fish technically," David's friend Anthony piped up in the seat next to him. "David is just being a dick though."  Their other friend, Trent, only smirked.

I pushed the plate away, drowning the taste with my Coke before I realized that I wasn't drinking Coke. "This is Sprite. I ordered a Coke."

"Coke just means soda here, kid. You have a lot to get use to around here," David shrugged, looking at his two friends with a knowing smile before sipping his own drink.

David had been insisting the past week to introduce me to his friends so I could assimilate once again rather than stay at home.

"So you lived in New York City before, right?" Trent asked me inquisitively. I noticed right away that despite's Trent quiet demeanor did not cloak this sharp brown eyes that were assessing me. It made me wonder how much like shit I appeared.

I nodded.

"Yep," I answered, feeling a sense of nostalgia about my hometown.

"That's so cool," Anthony responded with awe.

Anthony was soft spoken despite being a big guy. He was several inches taller than me and lean. He was wearing a jersey with A largely printed on the white jersey.

"It is," I agreed.

"Where in the city did you live?" he followed up.

"El Barrio," I responded without a single thought in a Spanish accent.

Anthony frowned. "El what?"

I shook my head, realizing they probably had no idea what I said. "It's just another name for East Harlem. It's the northeast part of Manhattan. There are a lot of Spanish and Italian people in my neighborhood."

It was why the first thing I noticed here was that it was the lack of diversity. My half Mexican heritage meant that I was a few shades darker than all the white kids around here, and it seems like the only people who better resembled my skin tone were gardeners and custodians in facilities- a fact that left me uneasy.

"Honestly that is so cool. I don't get why you would ever want to come here," Anthony said innocently. 

"Yeah. New York sounds great," Trent agreed. 

I froze at this question as all the faces turned to look at me. Every person asked me the same question. Most of the time I used Dad as a scapegoat, claiming that he wanted to return to his hometown, which was true. Every time I was asked that question, unwanted memories began to invade my mind.