The Accidental Native
Page 27
Driving toward Arecibo, “I Hope You Dance,” came on the radio. I thought of Rita Gómez and raised the volume. My mother started singing, much to my dismay. I stifled a laugh, looking away, but she saw me and slapped my thigh.
“You can dance, but you can’t sing, deal with it,” I responded.
“Oh? I was planning to sing at your wedding.”
I turned to her, wide-eyed, and she laughed.
I shook my head and we both laughed; and then we listened to the rest of the song, letting the sorrow in our hearts drift into the wind. As the car consumed the curves heading west, my head tilted toward the window. The blistering midday sun melded into the surrounding tropical greenness, and we dissolved into that unbearable green light.
Also by J.L. Torres