Is he the one who Frank hates?

Ana Cruz Gives Birth

The phone rings. It’s after ten o’clock, too late for Delia to call. Her mother doesn’t believe in calling people past nine.

“Isabel.” Auntie Bernadette’s voice is breathless and filled with excitement like when she wins at bingo. “Come over to Mrs. Cruz’s house now. Ana is about to give birth.”

“Why do I have to be there?”

“I might not be around one day and you’ll need to know what to do. Besides, don’t you want to see a miracle?”

“Auntie, I haven’t finished my homework. I’ll see the baby tomorrow.”

I hang up the phone. I’ve never used homework as an excuse before, but I don’t want Auntie to turn me into a midwife. Still, when I close my eyes tonight, I can’t help but think that I’m missing out on something.

Watch Me

“Your sister needs you,” Sister Agnes tells me in the middle of science class.

Olivia is at the door with one of her friends. Her damp bangs stick to her forehead, the way they do when she’s been playing outside all day. Her white uniform shirttail hangs over her skirt.

“Will you come watch me dance?” she asks.

“Olivia,” I whisper, “I’m in the middle of science.”

“At lunch, then, please?” She has second recess during my lunch period.

“Okay, I’ll see you at lunch. Now go.”

She and her friend skip away, holding hands.

When I return to my desk, I flip to the back of my notebook, where I wrote today’s list. I add to the bottom: Remind Olivia to keep her blouse tucked in.

Watching Olivia Dance Outside the Cafeteria

Olivia dances like she has no troubles—
shakes her body, head to toe,
taps her feet to the beat of the drum.
She is the guitar’s vibration,
the soprano’s highest note.
When the music slows, she moves
like a coconut palm, swaying
in an island breeze.
She thinks she’s onstage in front of an adoring audience.
Never mind that the music plays from
Carlos’s radio propped in the cafeteria window and
that almost everyone in the crowd
is just now learning how to multiply.

Closed Docs

Our home has turned into a house with closed doors. My morning begins when I hear Tata shutting the front door as he leaves to fish. Olivia used to leave the bathroom door open, even when she was on the toilet. “Shut the door,” I’d tell her. “No one wants to smell your stink.” Now she locks the door and spends so much time in there, I worry that her little heinie has fallen through the commode.

Today after school Frank slips into his room and closes the door behind him like a thief hiding out. I bang on his locked door. “What are you doing in there?”

“Homework.”

What goes on in his room besides homework? I wish he was like Olivia, letting the cha-cha do its magic.

How can any spirits move around our house with so many closed doors? Maybe they wait until night, when we leave doors open so that the air from the air conditioner in the front window can circulate through our house.