Primitivo

by Croft, Rose

  He bent over and retrieved my tank top. “Clean up and get in bed.”

  “Are you staying?”

  “What?” He reached in taking over wiping me off when my shaky hands weren’t working fast enough. “You think we’re going to snuggle and fall asleep together?” His words were condescending.

  “No.” I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  “Good. I knew you were smarter than that.”

  Sofía

  “You’ll be working with Mrs. Rojas in pre-Kinder,” Janis Strum, the director of Building Blocks said. True to Mr. Cox’s word, I was offered a position to work in an early childhood classroom for the school year. “You will come in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from nine to two and volunteer for any after-school activities with the class as needed such as school programs or festivals.”

  “Great.” I was nervous and excited at the same time to be back in the classroom again. I’d interned in a few classrooms a few days a week when I was taking my early education classes, but it’d been a second and first grade class. Now, I was finally getting my glimpse of what most kids’ first year in school looked like. “I’m so excited for this opportunity.”

  “Excellent. Let’s get you situated.” We walked down the school hallway and she stopped me before we entered the classroom. I could hear children singing along with a song about the alphabet. “Miss Flores, I’m thrilled about your excitement. However, I expect you to take this work very seriously. Punctuality is important as well as having a take-charge attitude. You get in there, take notes, and learn as much as possible. Mrs. Rojas is a veteran teacher with a wealth of information. Many people go into this field thinking that having a love for children is enough and then realize it’s harder than it looks. It takes a lot of planning, preparation, and learning your craft to become a good teacher. If this is what you truly want, then you’ll work hard for it.”

  Believe me, I knew how hard it was and knew without a doubt this was what I wanted to do. “Yes. I will work hard for this. You can’t imagine how I’ve dreamed of this moment.”

  She smiled. “That’s what I want to hear.”

  I followed Mrs. Strum inside the classroom and Mrs. Rojas saw us and motioned for another adult in the room to take over as she approached us.

  “Janis, it’s so good to see you again.” They embraced like dear friends and her eyes crinkled in kindness as she smiled and held out her hand to me. “I’m Lyla Rojas.”

  I took her hand. “Sofía Flores.”

  “Yes. Janis told me about you. You want to be a pre-K teacher?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll let you get back to your class,” Janis said and patted me on the shoulder. “Make me proud, Sofía.”

  “I will do my best. Thank you for this chance.”

  Janis smiled and waved as she passed through the door.

  Mrs. Rojas clasped her hands together. “I’m about to read aloud with the class. Right now, if you want to observe, familiarize yourself with the class, and afterward, we’re practicing how to use centers in the classroom. I definitely need your help with that. If you have any questions, please ask.” She walked over to the carpet where a group of little ones danced and mimicked the man leading the class in songs. “This is Mr. Landon who also works with me.” He gave a smile of acknowledgment as I waved at him.

  When the song finished, Mr. Landon signaled with two fingers tapping the palm of his hand and the children sat down on the carpet. “Criss-cross applesauce,” he reminded them, and they crossed their legs with hands in their laps.

  I was amazed how easily they all sat down and followed directions. I glanced at Mrs. Rojas. “Pretty good, huh. It’s only their second week of school,” she beamed.

  I nodded as she walked over to a rocking chair next to an easel. “Boys and girls, I would like to introduce someone who will be working with us this year.” She pointed in my direction. “Miss Flores. Can you tell her good morning?”

  “Good morning, Miss Flores,” the children said.

  “Good morning. I’m so happy to be here with you.”

  One little boy with blond hair raised his hand to me and I nodded. “Are you a teacher?”

  “Not yet, but I hope to be one soon.”

  Another student said, “My aunt’s last name is Flores.”

  Before I could reply a voice to my right called out, “I have a cat.”

  “I have two dogs,” a little girl added.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Rojas interrupted before other students gave out any more random information. “I’d like to read a story about a boy who had trouble following rules in class, since we’re talking about rules at school.”

  I pulled out a small chair around a circular table and sat watching how Mrs. Rojas engaged the kids in the story. They listened, answered questions with excitement and oohed and aahed over the funny pictures.

  After she finished reading, she said, “Now, we’re going to practice how to use our centers in the classroom.” Mr. Landon had a blue box in his hand filled with LEGOs and set it on one circular table. Some of the kids called out, “Yes!”

  Mr. Landon set out other boxes on other tables with Play-Doh, simple puzzles, cubes, and blocks. All students wore nametags with a color dot on their tag coinciding with the color of the box on each table. We all helped to guide students to their proper work station/center and circulated around the room.

  Someone tugged on my arm. “Can you help me?” A little girl with dark brown braids and wide doe eyes looked up at me holding out a cup of Play-Doh. “I can’t open it.”

  “Of course,” I glanced at her nametag, “Destiny.”

  “Yep. That’s my name.”

  “It’s a pretty name.”

  “You’re pretty,” she said.

  “Aww, thank you.” I kneeled down beside her at the table. “You’re very pretty yourself.”

  “I know. My mom always tells me that.” I smiled at her candidness.

  As I moved around the room, I saw a little boy wearing a soccer jersey and had black hair shaved on the sides and longer on top slicked back stylishly. He was building something with LEGOs. I thought about my son in pre-school and wondered what his classroom was like. Did he like to listen to stories? Did he enjoy school? Was he making friends?

  I moved in closer to the table and studied the little boy from behind. He appeared to be making a house. As though he could sense someone watching him, he turned his head and eyed me. There was something so familiar in his expression.

  “Are you making a house?”

  “No. A shopping center.”

  “A shopping center,” I reiterated impressed with his imagination.

  He nodded. “You wanna help me?”

  “Okay.” I pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. I could smell the musky fragrance of cologne. Expensive cologne. A very familiar scent. “You smell good. Are you wearing cologne?” I looked down at his nametag, but it was twisted around.

  “Yeah. My dad lets me wear his.” He scrunched his eyebrows together as he stared down at his work contemplating what to do next.

  “So, what’s in your shopping center?”

  “A coffee shop, clothing store, and this one…” He pointed to each space. “Is my dad’s office.”

  “What does your dad do?”

  “He builds shopping centers.”

  “Oh, well, that makes sense.” I couldn’t help the funny feeling nagging at my brain.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Miss Flores.”

  “No. What’s your first name?”

  This little boy didn’t beat around the bush, and he spoke like a mini adult. “It’s Sofía, but my friends call me Sofí.”

  “Sofí.” He thought for a moment. “I like it.” He clicked two LEGO pieces together. “Do you know my name?”

  “Is it Lionel?” I teased. “I saw Messi on the back of your shirt.”

  He laughed. “No. He’s my favorite soccer player. Do you
like soccer?”

  “I do. I like Messi, too. Do you play?”

  “Yes. I play all the time with my dad and uncles.” He snapped some more pieces together. “Papá says he’s going to sign me up for a team this year.”

  “How exciting.”

  I helped him build his shopping center letting him tell me where to put the pieces. “Hey, Messi, you never told me your name.”

  “Guess.”

  “Johnny.”

  He smirked. “Try again.”

  “Turn your tag around. It’s backward.”

  He looked down at his flipped nametag and covered it with his hand. His eyes twinkled with mischief. This one was going to be a heartbreaker. “I’ll give you a hint. It starts with an E like elephant.”

  “Mmm.” I tapped my cheek as I thought. “Is it Edward? Evan? Enrique?” He shook his head with each answer, and the devious grin never left his face.

  I heard the tinkling of a bell. “Okay, class we’re going to rotate to our next center,” Mrs. Rojas said. “Remember to clean up first. We always pick up when we finish something.”

  I helped him take apart and put away the pieces.

  “Now, we’re going to move to our next station,” Mrs. Rojas announced and pointed out directions where the students would go. “You may switch.”

  As students started moving, the little boy peered up at me with a half-smile and a dimple that melted me. He flipped his nametag around where I could see it and pointed. My world stopped, and I had to keep my knees from buckling beneath me. Eric.

  “Eric,” I breathed, and my hands trembled as I reached out to touch him, but he was already moving on to the next table.

  My son. I saw my son. I sat on the city bus and stared out the hazy scratched-up window thinking about my first day of service. When he showed me his name, the pieces all fell together and everything made sense. His mannerisms, the way he spoke in a teasing way, and definitely his physical appearance was so much like Emilio.

  Oh my God. Emilio. If he found out I was working with Eric, he would have me kicked out of the school immediately. I couldn’t lose contact with my son again. It took all my power not to hover over him the whole day and show favoritism.

  When the class went outside for recess, Eric was playing soccer with some of the other kids, and it was obvious he played all the time. He dribbled with control around the other children who clumsily tried to kick it away. One boy was frustrated not having the ball and shoved Eric to the ground, and I had to restrain myself from running over there and scooping my baby in my arms and giving the other boy a dress down. However, Eric jumped up and brushed it off like it was no big deal while Mrs. Rojas was quick to explain to the kids to play nice.

  I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. What was I going to do? I needed this job. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was making a difference and loved every minute of working in the classroom.

  I would keep on and tell Emilio the truth and pray he’d understand. I would never tell Eric I was his mother, but I had the opportunity to see him again. If this was how I could see my son, I would take it.

  What was I going to do? I hadn’t heard from Emilio in two days. The other night had been surreal. This wasn’t a relationship, and who knew if he would even contact me again? He seemed like he was battling his own demons. He’d stayed for several more hours that night—touching, taking from me what he needed, what I needed. It was as though we were both desperate to chase that elusive high. The final time we were together, he’d shed his clothes and loved me slow and leisurely like he was savoring the moment. He was gentle and whispered softly as he moved against me, “I can’t get enough of you, Sofía.” The first time he’d said my name. We both climaxed together, holding each other tight.

  Unfortunately, the magical moment quickly dissipated as he squeezed his eyes shut and withdrew from me leaving me alone and empty. He was clearly ashamed, and it broke my heart. He tied off the condom and discarded it. “Do you still have my cell number or did you erase that from your life, too?”

  His flat words pierced at my heart. When Tito found me, I knew he’d want to go through my phone, so I took out the SIM card and destroyed it. “No, I lost my phone and had to get a new one.”

  He shrugged into his pants. “Give me your number,” he ordered gruffly. I did, and he punched it in. “Be ready when I contact you.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Whenever I need you.”

  Whenever I need you. I shook my head remembering his words. I was nothing but a warm body for him. A desperate mistake that he made when he was inebriated. And yet, I was willing to allow it. Who the hell was I anymore? Regardless, I wasn’t going to turn Emilio away. I would never turn him and Eric away again.

  Emilio

  “The place was trashed. Windows shattered, walls punched and kicked in and splattered with bullet holes, furniture destroyed, and gang signs sprayed all over the outer concrete walls.” Adrian spread his hands wide with a solemn expression.

  “Goddammit,” I cursed and rubbed the tension from my forehead. I hoped it wasn’t ES-22’s work. I warned Sofía about this shit, and she said she’d take care of it. If she was fucking involved in this, I would have her ass back in jail. I sighed. “So, they trashed out a closed down strip club. We were going to renovate it anyway.”

  “True, but they destroyed everything in the building, meaning nothing was salvageable,” Vince said in his dry tone. “Meaning more expenses on our end.” We were sitting in my office having our weekly Friday morning meeting. Adrian had been notified by one of his buddies, a police officer on the force about the building being vandalized. “Any leads on who did it?” Vince turned to Adrian sitting beside him.

  Adrian cleared his throat and gave me a meaningful glance. “It looked like the work of Los Malos.” Of course, it was.

  “What the hell is going on?” Vince gripped the arms of his chair and sat up straighter. “Why are they messing with our shit?”

  “I guess they consider that area their territory. When Adrian, Yovani, and I scoped out the club, it was basically taken over by ES-22 members.”

  “Oh, you mean the night you saw your ex whatever-the-fuck-she-is there, too? Is she involved in this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought she threw a brick through our window because she was causing baby mama drama. I didn’t know she was a straight-up gangster, but why the hell would I be surprised?”

  I ground my teeth together to keep from saying something I’d regret. Vince and I didn’t see eye to eye all the time, and I had an urge to strangle him when I rationally knew he could be right. “She’s on probation, Vince, if she screws up, she’s going back to county.”

  It was time I contacted her and found out if she was lying, again. Forget that I’d been thinking about burying myself deep and hard in her for several days. It’d been seven days since I’d seen her. Seven long days where I itched to see her. Get lost in her. Take her over and over until I poured out all of the hate, anger, and frustration in her until my soul felt cleansed. Unfortunately, my soul was a lost cause and could never be baptized, but I foolishly tried.

  “How do you know all of this? Are you fucking her again?”

  “God, no, hermano.” The lie fell off my tongue. “Adrian kept me posted.” I eyed my cousin and he nodded in agreement. It wasn’t a total lie. My primo did keep me updated on Sofía’s situation before I hooked up with her.

  “It doesn’t matter, but you better not be dipping your stick in poison, bro, or you’ll end up with a bullet to the head or a machete severing your throat.” He peered at Adrian again. “What’s being done about it?”

  “The area gang task force is looking into the situation.”

  “Those dumbasses have a lot of nerve showing their signs on commercial property.” Vince stood up and checked his phone. “It better not happen again. If this cuts into our profits…”

  “It will be handled,” Adrian assured us.
“The city is already feeling the heat of the local rise in gang activity and loss of life of teens and innocent bystanders.”

  The severity of the situation was sinking in deeper. ES-22 was spreading like a wildfire, and here I was fucking around with a girl who lived with them. Not just any girl—the one that I handed my heart while she crushed it between her fingers. It made me borderline nauseous. If she had anything to do with this, I would have no choice but to take her down.

  As soon as Vince and Adrian filed out of my office, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. What the hell was I doing? I was going against everything I believed in and built. I’d exonerated her memory three years ago, and all it took was me seeing her again to bring her right back to the forefront of my mind. I hated myself for it. I lied to myself. I compartmentalized my feelings rationalizing that I could satisfy my baser needs with her and detach myself. I wouldn’t think of her as the woman I used to love or Eric’s mother. I couldn’t. Besides, hate fucks were better than self-hand jobs.

  Like an addict, I reached out to my phone to set up my next fix. Don’t get high on your own supply. That’ll be your downfall. That’s what Vince and I always said to each other back in the day. Yet, here I was with hands clenched around my cell. My adrenaline pulsed. My heart pounded with the thrill and excitement of doing something I knew damn well I shouldn’t.

  I thumbed in my code and hovered over her contact. Screw it! I typed.

  Me: We need to talk.

  Almost immediately I saw the dots moving.

  Gatita: Where?

  Where? I leaned my head back against my chair. Hell, if I knew. I wasn’t going to waltz into her place again without something going down. The other night I’d been a fool and knew I took a big risk. I mentally cursed my stupid-ass self for the hundredth time. I wouldn’t bring her to my house again. Not to fuck in my bed. That was a hard line for me. I thought about the old neighborhood park where Vince and I hung out as teens.