Like the Back of My Hands (Rilaya)

Chapter Three: These Dreams

Riley fought relentlessly and blindly for love. She believed in it so fiercely that she would create fantasies for herself in order to only imagine the good part of love—the safe part of it.

Because girls like Riley didn't know pain. They had the privilege to daydream about Prince Charming and "Happily Ever Afters..."

Maya couldn't afford to daydream. Her rose-colored glasses were snatched away at a young age and Maya could only see the world for what it truly was: difficult.

Maya placed the check inside a folder in her backpack and rushed to the State and Lake train stop, waiting for the Pink Line train to make its stop and take her home.

In order to avoid people attempting to talk to her she put on her headphones and started listening to her music on shuffle, humming along to a Spanish song her friend, Esme, had shown her.

Once her train arrived, a swarm of people exited the train while others entered the train. Maya took a seat and stared out of the window, the train riding so high it made the people below her look like ants. That would be a good picture to take.

But Maya did no such art anymore.

Even if she was good at it, Maya could only dream of her work providing income. And that was the thing about her art: she could only dream of it taking her anywhere. Maya could not afford to dream. She had to be realistic about life. The only way she could get ahead was by working at something she could actually find a job for and pay well enough that she could take care of her and her mother.

That was her main goal. More than anything in the world Maya wanted her mother to never have to worry about bills or putting food on the table. Maya would take care of it all.

After listening to 10 songs, Maya reached her stop and quickly got off the train. Maya resisted the urge to tell some dude to fuck off when he tried talking to her and Maya huffed as she walked over to the area where people locked their bikes, unlocking it and hopping on her bike and starting to bike it home.

To people like her grandmother, Little Village was a Latino community that was poor, run-down, and violent. To Maya, it was the best place in the universe simply for the fact that it was the home her mother gave her.

Maya appreciated the fact that her mother had her live in a place that provided a good story—in fact, it provided millions of stories of people finding home away from home; People who were as hardworking as her mother to provide for their families; People who overcame all obstacles in order to thrive.

So her grandmother could talk shit about Maya's home as much as she wanted to because that would never take away the family Maya found there.

Maya pulled up to the brown, bricked home that should, theoretically, only fit two families since it only had two apartments. However, people found a way to fit if they had no other choice. So Maya and her mother had their own apartment on the second floor while their longtime friends, Celeste and her daughter, Lucy, lived on the first floor. And another family lived on the basement and another in the attic.

Needless to say, there was never a dull moment in Maya's household.

In that moment, Lucy opened the window and peeked her head out. "Maya!" she greeted with a smile. "My mom had an inkling you were here and she says to get your little culo inside para comer."

Maya chuckled as she opened the gate and pushed her bike inside. "But I'm not hungry." she responded.

Lucy hummed. "I didn't say you had an option." she retorted with a chuckle. "And you know better than to say no to my mother about eating. You don't play with a Latina mom's cooking."