What do you think? Would your parents be okay if I came to visit? I mean, we never talked about anything like that when we were at camp. Maybe I’m too pushy asking you this, but Beth says, “You never know until you ask.”
It’s embarrassing to invite myself, but I really miss you, Maureen. I’d also like to have a break that I could look forward to. It’d be great for us to be together just like we were at camp. If I spent a weekend with you, we’d have two days to just hang out and talk.
Talking, really talking, isn’t easy where I live. The only people I can be open with are grown-ups, not anyone my own age. Meaningful conversation isn’t something teenagers do here. I don’t want to constantly chatter on and bother Mrs. C and Díaz. After all, I’m part of their jobs, not their girlfriend.
In the meantime, I feel like my words are stuffed down inside me, with nowhere to go. Maybe that’s why this letter’s getting so long. The words I can’t speak to anyone in my “real” world just keep spilling out all over these pages.
Until camp, I never had a friend like you. Someone who feels like a smart weirdo. Someone like me. Just knowing you exist makes me feel less lonely.
It’s hard to believe, but most girls here never leave. Marriage, kids and a place near their families is all they want. If they know there’s a world outside, they sure don’t act like it. They call Manhattan “the City,” like the Bronx is a tiny village.
Moms loves me to pieces, but she has her hands full, worrying about my brother staying out of the gangs, keeping up with the twins and dealing with Pops’ affair.
Moms prays for me and does her best. She says it’s a blessing from God that educated women are taking an interest in me. That’s cool of her. I mean, Moms could feel threatened or jealous about the other grown-ups in my life, but she doesn’t.
There’s another woman in my life, too, my godmother Inez. She’s actually a distant cousin, but we always connected. When I was eleven, Inez asked my parents if she could take me on field trips sometimes, and they actually agreed.
Once every few months, Inez comes in from Jersey to get me. We’ve gone to museums, galleries and even the opera. I didn’t understand much, since it was in German, but I loved it anyhow. Inez is a secretary. She wanted to be a singer, but her parents talked her out of it. Now she really, I mean really, wants me to go for my dreams. Inez tells me to do it for both of us. I plan to.
I called Inez to tell her how weird I’m feeling. She asked me to write a story about it, and even enter it in a contest. Hey, why not? Maybe this letter is the beginning. Writing this made me feel better.
Maureen, I’ll be straight. I know your parents are Irish and Italian, so maybe having a Puerto Rican like me stay at your house wouldn’t be cool with them. Some white people don’t like Latinos. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with it. So, if they don’t want me there, just tell me. I can take it.
Well, it’s almost dinnertime and I have to help Moms force the twins to take a bath. Write soon, okay? Central Park’s safe during the day, so maybe we could meet there and hang if a sleepover’s not cool. Sorry this is so sloppy. I’m writing like lightning. Let’s at least get together soon, okay? Miss you!
Love, your friend,
Lorena
The Almost Murder and Other Stories Page 9