When We Make It

by Elisabet Velasquez

  SQUATTERS

  G knocks on the door and asks us for the rent.

  What? G is the landlord?

  Tone’s not coming back.

  They found him overdosed in the park.

  G said he owns this building

  & a few others on the block.

  He said he copped them when they were abandoned

  back in the day when nobody

  wanted to live next to

  Black American & Puerto Rican people.

  This building is still abandoned.

  I curse G out in my head.

  I’m so angry.

  G’s been behind this shithole this whole time.

  He thinks he can get away with it

  ’cause he brings us corned beef every fifteen days?

  We can’t even sleep without

  worrying if we’re gonna wake up to enjoy it!

  G says he’ll give us extra time if we need it.

  Matter fact: The next two months is on him.

  & suddenly G is a savior again.

  HOW WE GOT OUR NAMES

  RAID

  When the roaches multiply too much,

  So much that you can’t comfortably ignore them,

  it’s time to kill them.

  The best time to spray the roaches

  is when they don’t see it coming.

  Either at night when they feel the safest

  or the moment right before the sun rises

  and they’re scurrying back to their hiding places.

  Raid works best when it’s a surprise.

  You shouldn’t be in the house

  when a Raid is about to go down.

  Raid can’t tell the difference

  between you and what it’s trying to kill.

  THE NEW YORK TIMES

  At the bodega I pick up a copy of The New York Times.

  I try to unravel the long pages easily

  like I know what I am doing.

  I hold it a few exaggerated inches from my eyes.

  I squint at it, hold it up toward the light

  then pull it back again toward my face.

  I inspect the paper like I wanna know

  if it has an expiration date or some shit.

  Goldo knows I am trying

  to sneak read today’s article about the drug bust

  in our apartment building

  without having to pay the fifty cents for it.

  That’s not a toy!

  All the adults use this phrase

  when they want you

  to take things seriously.

  The New York Times is serious.

  I fold it up like a slice from Tony’s

  & shove it under my arm.

  Goldo yells that I am messing up the paper.

  I want to buy this—I say in a tone

  I imagine the cool white teacher’s husband would use

  when he talks about investing

  in our neighborhood.

  I’m gonna buy this!

  So I can do whatever I want with it.

  BELL ATLANTIC IS TEARING US APART

  The phone bill is way too high lately

  so today Mami rips the twisty cord

  from the phone and shoves it into

  her purse as she leaves the house.

  This way Estrella can’t spend hours being a puta

  on the phone with her boyfriend Jesus.

  After Mami leaves, Estrella digs an extra cord from her bra & resurrects the phone by reattaching the artery.

  Oooh,

  I taunt.

  If Mami finds out

  she’s gonna kill you.

  Estrella laughs a threat my way.

  I look for another business to mind.

  I know it doesn’t really matter

  if Mami tries to kill Estrella.

  Some part of Estrella has already died.

  I can tell because people who are truly alive protect themselves from danger.

  LOSING MY VIRGINITY

  Lately, I spend most of my days with Church Boy.

  We cut class & explore the city together.

  Today we raced up & down

  the Broadway Junction Escalators.

  & took the J train

  to Kosciuszko street.

  Church Boy and I take turns pronouncing it.

  Cos-Key-Yas-Co. That sounds about right.

  We walk down Broadway until we get to Dekalb Avenue

  Where Church Boy lives. We sit on the fire escape

  & I remember what Señor Maví told me about Bushwick burning.

  Hard to believe this all went up in flames once.

  Church Boy doesn’t hear me though

  His hands are already up my skirt

  Trying to start a different kind of fire.

  MAMI THINKS I AM STILL A VIRGIN

  It only happened once so maybe

  I think I still am too.

  ESTRELLA GOES MISSING

  Maybe it’s because they think

  you ran away with the boy who looked like God.

  Maybe it’s because they think

  you’ll come back three days later like you are God.

  Maybe they are expecting you to resurrect like this again, like you have always been a dead girl

  waiting for the moment to rise,

  glory and miracle.

  Maybe no one is searching for you

  because you being gone

  is not enough evidence

  that you were indeed missing.

  You so loud so the police are sure

  we will find you. Crying wolf. Crying.

  You so loud that when you are silent,

  they point us in the direction of your echo and say, look

  a cave in love with her own darkness.

  You are not a girl worthy of a torch.

  You girl with bonfire hair, do not get to be illuminated.

  You do not get to smile for the sake of being happy.

  You have a grin ready for a mugshot.

  They say it’s your mouth that keeps you captive.

  You’re a name too hard to pronounce,

  must mean you’re difficult too.

  Must mean you’re not worthy of a chorus

  to sing you into prayer.

  Must make you a melody

  we forgot the words to, a quiet hum.

  It is no wonder you are missing.

  IF BEING BORICUA IN BUSHWICK IS A FEELING IT’S THE WORST KIND

  Not worst like we wish we were anybody else.

  Worst like we know we not supposed to be us.

  Worst like I can’t believe Mami traded in a singing coquí for a roaring M train lullaby.

  Worst like we gotta wait on line for everything

  especially our humanity.

  Worst like everybody in our hood is Puerto Rican

  but ain’t no Puerto Ricans in our history books!

  Worst like is history tryna tell us we don’t have stories,

  or that we don’t have stories worth telling?

  Worst like we belong to a missing people or something.

  Worst like we know our people not missing

  ’cause we find them every day.

  Worst like if I was to go missing, would someone try and find me?

  Worst like, damn, I hope I never go missing.

  Worst like what if I am missing right now?

  ESTRELLA IS BACK

  & everyone acts like she never left.

  GOT A SECRET, CAN YOU KEEP IT?

  Our church is on the corner

  of Morgan Avenue & Thames Street.

  This is the part
of Bushwick

  where people come to sin

  and sinners come to die.

  The church is the only holy thing

  on this block. Before church,

  Estrella and I race to the corner and hide

  from God between the abandoned factories.

  Estrella has a secret

  and she makes me swear not to tell anyone.

  I run through every secret-keeping pledge

  I learned from Lala

  whenever she tells me about her crushes or

  a girl she’s about to fight at recess.

  Estrella is kind of like my homegirl.

  I think these pledges apply here.

  Cross my heart and hope to die.

  Nah. ’Cuz If I accidentally told somebody,

  that’s my whole life.

  Pinky swear.

  Damn, that would require actual physical contact.

  We not that kind of family.

  I settle on what seems like the safest option.

  I zip my lips, and lock the end of my smile

  with a twist of my wrist and throw away the key.

  Estrella doesn’t buy my imaginarily zipped lips.

  You can still open your mouth, stupid.

  I keep them closed anyway, point to my mouth and shake a thumbs-up towards her to signal

  that the zipper really works & she can tell me.

  She rolls her eyes so far back that I almost think

  she’s checking heaven to see if God found us.

  Whatever. I had sex for the first time.

  With Jesus. That’s where I stayed the last few days.

  She leans against the brick wall

  like it’s the first thing to hold her all day.

  I post up next to her,

  feel my hand melting into hers.

  In Bushwick it’s hard to be soft

  when everything is so hard.

  I don’t know what to say

  so I keep my promise & say nothin’ at all.

  LOVE

  Church Boy tells me he loves me.

  This is the first time I’ve heard the phrase.

  It doesn’t sound like I imagined it would.

  He says it like he wants something from me

  but he must know I have nothing to give

  so I allow it.

  I pretend I am happy to hear it.

  Maybe I am. I haven’t decided yet.

  I ask him to say it again.

  This time so I can start getting used to it.

  This time so I can mouth along with the words.

  Practice how they feel if I ever said them to myself.

  HOW WE GOT OUR NAMES

  TAG

  Church Boy has a black book and he wants me to tag it.

  I don’t have a tag name yet so he suggests Nena.

  Choosing a tag is important. On the news the mayor calls it vandalism and at home Mami calls it porquería.

  If you paid enough attention to the streets you would know vandalizers are actually called writers

  and that porquería is actually an art form.

  Tagging up is the stuff of legacy.

  Corner Boy Jesus’ tag name is G.O.D.

  He says it stands for Get Out or Die.

  That it has a double meaning:

  1. A warning to outsiders.

  2. A promise to himself.

  Technically with the extra “o” the tag should have been G.O.O.D.

  but Jesus is a respected writer so it’s disrespectful to question his philosophy.

  G.O.D. was tagged on almost every wall in Bushwick like Jesus was tryna bomb his way into heaven or something.

  Just like that, Jesus had people talking.

  A good tag will give you notoriety.

  & it don’t matter if publicity is bad.

  If people hate you enough it can almost feel like they love you.

  HOW TO GO MISSING

  One day the city

  started paying

  cleanup crews

  to paint over

  all the tags.

  I wonder what

  it feels like

  to be so visible

  that people want

  to make you disappear.

  SILENCE

  Church Boy runs his fingers

  all across my thighs

  like they were a bad neighborhood

  that he knew the shortcuts through.

  I apologize for my stretch marks

  because I want him to say

  don’t worry about it

  or you’re still beautiful

  but he doesn’t.

  He says nothing

  and nothing

  is sometimes saying a lot.

  HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  Sarai.

  It is the fall again and my name

  drops off Estrella’s tongue

  like a leaf from a tree.

  She tells me about her idea to move

  to Chicago, Pennsylvania or Florida.

  Lots of Puerto Ricans live there too.

  I’m always surprised to hear about other places

  Puerto Ricans live in

  besides Puerto Rico.

  How they all get there?

  Why are so many of us here?

  Like when Ms. Rivera told us

  about Boricuas in The Bronx.

  I wonder why Puerto Ricans

  would ever want to leave the island?

  Either way, in a few more years

  with all the money Jesus is making dealing for G

  we can leave.

  Buy a house.

  Can you imagine?

  Estrella is lost in her imagination.

  A house? With a backyard.

  Maybe even a pool!

  It’ll be the American dream

  if we add a dog.

  But we’ll need a Rottweiler or some shit.

  You know, for protection.

  I guess she means no matter where we go

  we’ll never really be safe.

  Even when we make plans to leave Bushwick,

  Bushwick will never leave us.

  MAMI THREATENS TO SEND ESTRELLA TO PUERTO RICO

  In Brooklyn, nothing belongs to us

  not even our mouths.

  Mami can’t stand Estrella these days.

  Mami said she’s been acting different

  since she started dating

  Corner Boy Jesus.

  Ay Mami. Chill.

  You buggin’.

  I come to Estrella’s defense.

  Mami doesn’t appreciate how I

  give my tongue a lazy comfort, a home.

  I know you don’t talk to your teachers like this in school

  —which is to say

  she doesn’t feel white enough to be respected.

  AGUADILLA

  Damn, what will Estrella do in Puerto Rico

  when she doesn’t even speak Spanish?

  What a way that would be for Mami to abandon her.

  Drop her in the middle of Aguadilla

  with her mouth steady stuck in Brooklyn.

  Estrella is threatening to run away again.

  I calm her down. Mami couldn’t go back to Puerto Rico

  if she wanted to. La piña está agria.

  Mami owes too much of herself to Brooklyn to leave it.

  BORI WELA IS DYING

  & all Mami did today was stare at the phone

  waiting for it to ring.

  We found out from Mami’s brother, who was as much news to me as Bori Wela dying.

  Mami never talks about he
r family in Puerto Rico.

  It’s like she left everyone behind.

  It’s like that was the first death she knew.

  ESTRELLA GOES TO LIVE WITH PAPI

  Mami is stressed since hearing the news of Bori Wela

  & the fighting with Estrella has escalated.

  ¿Pues entonces? Mami opens the door.

  What are you waiting for?

  ¡Vete!

  Estrella is free to leave and Mami is free

  to pretend she didn’t just kick her out.

  Estrella grabs her best clothes.

  She leaves me the wack ones.

  She isn’t sad to leave.

  Maybe Papi’s new wife

  can be her new mother.

  I MISS ESTRELLA

  I tell Church Boy I miss Estrella.

  I have no one to laugh with now.

  & now there’s only one of us for Mami

  to take out her frustrations on.

  Church Boy says I can always talk to him.

  & we kiss until I have forgotten Estrella, Mami, Bushwick.

  For a brief moment I feel

  like I understand Julie’s addiction.

  How easy it is to love something

  for how well it can distract you from your pain.

  WE’RE GOING TO PUERTO RICO

  Mami’s brother has offered to pay

  for Mami’s ticket to Puerto Rico

  to visit Bori Wela in the hospital.

  He bought a ticket for me too.

  I feel sad I can’t share this moment with Estrella

  & I feel guilty for being excited about going to Puerto Rico.

  I make a note to learn the word

  for having so many feelings at once.

  I think of Señor Maví and his carrito.

  The Puerto Ricans dancing on Fifth Avenue.

  He’ll be happy to know

  that I finally get to learn my history.

  I finally get to go home.