Boycotting Blue

28/Blue

Blue

Mom?

    My head spun, and I almost went into the room, demanding to see the woman that had decided to abandon me. But something told me to sit still and listen. So I sat back down silently, my head spinning, my fist clenched. Aye, calm down, Blue.

    Tio made a sound of contented agreement. “But you haven’t been around like we have,” he remarked. Her hands continued into his hair, running her fingers through the short spiky strands. “Ya se Blue. I know him.”

   Carolina made an impatient noise. “You know him from a man’s perspective. You keep pushing and shoving, desperate to scare him into some sense. That boy will not be scared straight, baby. That’s not him.” She sighed, and I heard the covers rustle as she turned over, turning her back to him.

   “Then what you propose I do? Nothing else is workin’.”

   “’Time heals all wounds’, love.” She stretched, the bottoms of her toes lifting up the covers, and her hands outstretching. “It healed yours.”

   “But I was never in love with Evangeline to begin with. Only you.” Tio reached out, lifting her chin with his hand.

    If he was in love with her, never Evangeline, then why the hard time he gave me with Evangeline? Lies, my brain told me. Tio had never given me a hard time about Evangeline. In fact, the most he had yelled at me about it was that one time when we got into an argument and he told me he would take any chica I had. But not once had he aggravated me about Evangeline, not directly. He was always calming me down, not her.

   “You keep a picture of her on your desk, though.” Carolina sounded a bit jealous.

   “I have no pictures of you to hang up, and Evangeline was one of my best friends.” He laughed, placing his head against her back.“You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

   “And you’re irritating when you’re drunk,” she replied, pushing him away. Their shadows played against the wall like a movie. She was so close to me. Mi madre. “You should’ve been his dad.”

   Tio sobered instantly, his tone going from teasing and light to serious. “I should’ve. But mi hermano is a force of nature. I couldn’t keep you safe. Lo siento. I’m sorry.”

   Sorry? What had my dad done?

   “It’s fine. I knew exactly what I was doing. I was young, dumb, and heartbroken because I had seen the love of my life making out with another girl—a girl who hung around quite often actually.”

   “Don’t speak ill of the dead, Carolina.”

   She snuggled back close to him, turning to face him. “Why does everybody act like once a person dies they become a saint? That girl was evil, the way she played Blue like that.”

    Played me? I listened closer, leaning my head against the wall because everything seemed like it was spinning. I wanted to see Lou, to talk to her, to hold her, but she wasn’t even home. Unless she had come back during the time I was listening. But I doubted it.

     Carolina continued. “First, she got his heart by seduction. Then she left him when she realized selling drugs wasn’t making the same amount of money as being in the NFL, just to throw out an example.” Her voice was bitter, angry for me. Like a mom should be angry when her son is hurt. “Then the little wench destroys the very pieces of his heart by following him to something dangerous. When you didn’t want her, she was ready to go back to him. When she first heard of what Blue was going to do, she could care less. But the minute you rejected her, she was gone back to Blue, trying to stop him. She broke my son, Juan, and I’ll never get over that.”

   How did she know?

   Tio made a disgruntled noise. “Women will hold grudges until the time Jesus comes back, I swear. She’s dead, Carolina. Evangeline is dead.”

   “I’m very much aware, Juan. But hurt me, and you’re forgiven. But when you hurt my son…. I would’ve had her blood had someone else not done it. Blue is my only baby, the only person I love more than I love myself. If I can’t protect him up close, I will from afar.”

   “But Rodriguez gave you permission to see him now, to out yourself.”

   “Do you think Blue wants to see me now?” she demanded. “He thinks so many horrible thoughts of me. I heard them in class one day. He wrote a damn poem titled ‘Fuck Bitches’ and none of it was about other women. Just me. I can’t say anything to him. He’s going through a hard time right now, why make it worse?”

   Class? Fuck Bitches? I had forgotten all about that poem. I had turned it into a teacher by the name of…. Mr. Smith. How did she even know about it? Who was she? Had I seen her before?

   She wouldn’t have made it worse. Or maybe she would’ve. I didn’t know right now. What I did know was that I didn’t want to hear anymore, didn’t want to see her right now.

   She was right. I didn’t want to see her, but it wasn’t because I was thinking badly of her. I had to settle my mind.

   Sleep wasn’t an option, so I grabbed my basketball, slid my feet into my basketball shoes, and slammed my door loudly. As I passed by their door this time, they were silent and still. I went through the backdoor and flicked on the lights to the basketball court.

   I bounced the ball once, enjoying the sound. Then every time  I bounced it, I counted off a fact I knew was real.

   My name is Blue Rodriguez. Uno.

   Bounce.

   Yo tengo deciocho anos. Dos.

    Bounce.

   I am in love with a girl named after a video game character. Tres.

   At the thought of Lou, my heart took off in my chest, and my game was forgotten. I needed to see her. Right now. My whole body screamed to knock on that door and three in the morning and demand to see her. I wanted to hug her, hold her, kiss her, frustrate her, and then tell her how close I was to my mom.

   Instead, I turned away from her window, aware that it meant she wasn’t home. Even when she slept, there was a glow from a lamp—she said she kept it on because she couldn’t function in the dark. But her room was dark right now.

   Sighing, I pulled up for a shot. The swish the net made as the ball went through sent a thrill of delight through me. Perfect.

  I worked on my shot until I couldn’t feel my tired arms. Each time, I memorized the feeling of the ball on my fingertips, and the way it spun through the air before hitting the net at the corner.

   I was no fool. I would never be in the NBA. I wouldn’t live to get there.

   The sun was coming up when I finally put the ball down and went back inside. Tio was sitting at the table with a woman.

   Dios Mio, she was beautiful.

    She was almost as tall as Tio with olive skin and long brown hair that curled on her shoulders. She wore blue jeans over long, curved legs and one of Tio’s hoodies. She was without make-up, and her full lips and blue eyes matched mine. She looked at me, her mouth opening in a small ‘o’, and she reached a hand for me. “Blue—“ Her voice was familiar, but I couldn’t recognize from where.

    I took a deep breath, backing out of the kitchen and towards the living room. “No.”

    I was never a runner. I didn’t like to run.

    But I turned and fled the room then.