10. Leonor and Mrs. Leticia
I woke up after my first night at Barry’s house. He’s snoring on top of our bed, I sleep in a narrow drawer that opens underneath him. My mother didn’t cry for some reason last night when she said goodbye, I’m not sure if this was Dad’s calming influence or if she was just pretending to be strong for me. I was split in half, with the little boy screaming to be picked up and not left behind, especially with the uncertain story that was going to render before me with my new family. The other half was just thinking of Elizabeth and how I was going to be able to see her again.
I am looking around the room, so different than mine. His clothes are strewn across the floor, there is a smell of tobacco and mold, of an old apartment in an old building much like a drunk old man in his old cabin. But the smell is bearable, a price I’m willing to pay to buy my new single, unsupervised life. The closet doors are full of stickers of all kinds, from horrible smiley faces to shiny mini flags of Venezuela, to “Love is…” quotes with the little couple of big faced characters (I can’t understand how I was so excited when I was filling the “Love is…” album, back at my Grandmother’s house; I was probably ten and times were different).
The door is halfway open and I can hear cars passing by out in the street. I think I hear some sort of music in the back, maybe from another room. A door opens, and I turn towards the door instinctively. I hear the flapping of barefoot steps and a groan. I see Leonor, dressed with a black T-shirt on the top and a nothing else. My heart skips a beat and I feel a devil recoiling on my lower body. She zombies her way to the bathroom door across ours, and closes the door behind her. I had a chance to see her naked legs and I close my eyes to trap the image on my mind. I look at the roof and feel scared and excited at the same time. Barry said that if her Mom finds out that I’m behind his sister, she’ll throw me out. Mrs. Leticia didn’t look like she was the type of person to be mad about anything in the world last night, she was all smiles and talking about me in a way like she already knows me. I had met her twice or three times at most, I guess Barry talks about me all the time to her. I wonder how much he talks to Leonor.
I hear another set of footsteps. I look at Barry and he’s still out cold. We had beers sneaked in to his room last night and the empty bottles are still under the bed. He told me to remember to not close the drawer before taking them out.
I see the figure of a guy, with a lot of brown hair in his back and dirty white boxers approach the closed bathroom door. I sit up on the bed ready to scream at him, but petrified knowing this is not my call, The guy puts his hand on the knob and jiggers it.
“Honey?”
Leticia opens the door, this time she’s in front of me, and I see her red panties’ front and her thick thighs. She chuckles and lets the guy walk in and right at that moment plants her eyes straight unto mine. I panic and try to turn my head somewhere else. I’m totally in shock. Leticia closes the door without taking her eyes off me.
I drop my head on the pillow, making a loud thump noise.
“What’s going on?” Barry mutters.
“Nothing,” I almost whisper, “it’s your sister – she just went to the bathroom.”
“Oh. What time is it?”
“I don’t know.” I pick up my Casio calculator watch and update my friend. It’s eleven a.m. on a Saturday morning of my new, weird life. I don’t know if I should tell Barry about Leonor’s companion, or if he knows already.
“Where’s your Mom?”
Barry lays down, with his eyes closed.
“How can I know? Do you see me walking around the house?”
At home, Saturday and Sunday mornings were a family ritual. I can’t remember having breakfast outside of my home on any weekend. Dad always wakes up, put some coffee to brew while he smokes the first of his three-pack ration of cigarettes, takes a quick shower and shaves and goes out to buy the newspaper before any of us (including Mom) gets up. He usually cooks arepas for us, with ham and white cheese, if we’re lucky and there’s ground meat leftovers, he will fry some empanadas and if we’re really, really lucky, he’ll make the best pancakes outside of the United States. I miss those pancakes a lot, right now.
