RADIANT SHADOWS / By Bud Navero

RADIANT SHADOWS

By Bud Navero

I.
She sat on the curb, head down, watching her dark oily reflection waver in the gutterwash. A small plastic baggie like the ones used for selling crack, came sailing by. “That’s me,” she thought, “sailin’ on a street rainbow, headin’ for the drain.” That wasn’t what she wanted. She knew what she wanted. It just seemed like there was no way she was ever gonna get it. Not with the way her grades were dropping. She was “blowin’ it.” That’s what the school counselor told her. At the rate she was goin’ she’d be a drop-out for sure.But what could she do? She couldn’t run away. Who’d take care of her baby sister? She couldn’t go home – not the way her mother’s drunken boyfriend kept getting up in her face, and now sayin’ how soon she’d be a woman, all lookin’ at her and like that. She hadn’t slept there in days. Even when he was passed out snorin’, who knew when he’d wake up? Then what? She decided to wait a while so at least he’d be dead drunk when she snuck in. That way she could check on her baby sister, make sure she was clean and had sumthin’ to eat, maybe grab some clean clothes for herself, sneak back out and take it from there. She couldn’t oversleep again. Mr. Konikoff at the drug store had made that clear. People wanted their prescriptions before work, and the tips from the prescriptions she delivered before school paid for her and her baby sister’s food. If she was late she “disappointed the customers and short-changed herself.” That’s how he put it. And of course, he was right. She was caught up. If she found a safe place to crash, she might oversleep because crashin’ around wears you out. You usually just sleep when you’re too tired to stay awake and then you wake up when the sun hits you or someone’s tryin’ to grab your stuff or a cop tells you to move. She knew if she overslept, she lost money and little Carmen didn’t eat. If she stayed up to be sure she didn’t oversleep, she was so tired by the time she’d delivered her last prescription, she nodded out in school. That’s why she was “blowin’ it”. Damn! The sun was setting on her building. Right now her mother and Tonio would be getting drunk without even noticing how when the sun set on the river sometimes it turned it a bright reddish gold like those lava flows they showed in science class. Imagine if Brooklyn and Manhattan were separated by a fiery river from some volcano way far away. How would you cross it? And suppose it was only fiery for a little while and the rest of the time it was normal, how would you know when it was gonna be on fire? Aiee! Made getting away even harder.

Maria Elena pulled up her hoodie, zipped it to her chin, pushed her hands into its front pouch, and headed to see her baby sister. It was just a few blocks over but it might as well have been another country. Where she’d been sittin’ was safe. It was pretty funky but there were signs of life. There was a community vegetable garden down the street, the laundromat, and even a bodega that was being fixed up by a whole different kind of people from the ones on the stoop she was approaching. These were zombies, eating dreams instead of flesh. One was Tonio’s Uncle Pacho. He was always offering her a job for twenty dollars a day and a piece of the action if she would stand a block away and bang a pipe against a bus stop pole when she saw the cops coming. He also gave her “the look.” Fool. He thought he was making her some kind of big time offer. On a good day at Mr. Konikoff’s, she made twice that. It wasn’t every day but he never disrespected her. She’d throw herself in the River before she ever wound up on the stoop or workin’ for the stoop. As she started up the steps, Pacho stuck out his leg to block her.

“No arroz con pollo today, bonita? Que pasa?”

“It’s Wednesday, cho-cho,” she kicked aside his stupid leg, and sneered at his monkey ass face.

Every Sunday, Maria made a few days’ worth of chicken and rice for her mother and sister. She made it according to her great grandmother’s famous secret recipe: “Some say it’s the chicken. Some say it’s the rice. The smart say nothing!” she used to laugh. Her mother never learned to make it. Who knew why? But Maria had spent hours standing on a chair watching her grandma cook. Those days were paradise.

The broken door and bare bulb glare of the vestibule led to a stench so bad it made her gag every time she came and went. The elevator didn’t work. The marble stairs were worn down where all the people had gone up and down for so long. She couldn’t believe you could wear out marble like that. Some days she felt like the feet; some days she felt like the marble. Rap and salsa and arguments and telenovelas blasted from the apartments. She approached 6B, her supposed home, like a burglar. The television was way loud, so at least no one would hear her unlock the door. She turned the key and pushed. The room was dark except for the television. Out the window, the lights of Brooklyn stretched out beyond the boats going up and down the river. She stood there a second to take it all in. “So many dreams,” she thought. “Each one of those lights is someone’s dream, like a star to make a wish on.” She tip-toed past her mother’s room and heard Tonio snoring. Her and Carmen’s room was down the hall. She stood looking at the sister she loved. She was asleep and her diaper was dry. Her breathing sounded good. Maria knew that this couldn’t go on like this much longer. She had to make a plan to get them into a better situation…together. She grabbed a clean flannel shirt, and returned down the hallway like a cat. Before she left, she decided to check the fridge to see what they were eating.

Nothing.

Nothing?

Nothing but rotten butter, an empty jelly, and some kinda spills and stains.

The light from the fridge hit the table, and there it was – pizza boxes and beer bottles. What was Carmen eating? What happened to the arroz con pollo? Had they already eaten it? Pigs! Where was the baby formula? She slammed the fridge door and turned to leave when, out of nowhere Tonio grabbed her shoulder, turning her and shoving his unbearably smelly face down into hers:

“What the fuck you doin’? Huh?” he belched. “Get over here and clean up this mess! D’yu bring any beer?”

Maria, disgusted, pushed his arm away and turned to leave. He stiff-armed the door shut over her right shoulder, spun her around, and slapped both palms against the wall on either side of her head:

“ Flaca, I been watching you!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you know what I see? I see a weasel…a weasel who don’t know what she want.”

Maria squirmed but…nuthin’ doin’.

“Listen to me. Starting tomorrow you’re workin’ for my uncle and you do whatever he says…whatEVER!. Understand?”

She turned her head. He turned it back, squeezing her chin and tilting it up. She thought his eyes looked like roadmaps in hell.

“Who knows?” He pressed against her, “Someday, maybe the weasel grows up to become a fox?”

He pinched and grabbed and rubbed her chest, ran his hand down to her waist, and lifted her onto her tip-toes by her belt. The thought of her grandma gave her courage. What would she do? She bit her lip, knocked his left arm away, tore herself loose, and ducked out from under him as he fell face first into the wall. Before he recovered, she was down the first flight of stairs and a block away before she even looked back. She ducked into a corner of the park where she could see anyone coming from any direction. She wanted more than anything, to kill him. She even knew people who would do it just to get into a gang. Of course, then she’d owe them. And god knows what the uncle might do to her mom and Carmen. And if she didn’t start working for the uncle, then what happened to her, or her mom, or Carmen? There was nothing for the cops to do. The school counselor would only get Social Services involved and if they did anything, which wasn’t likely, they’d separate her from her sister and put them both in foster care.

It was like all of those lights and dreams belonged to everyone else. She thought of the baggie on its way to the drain, dug her hands deeper into her hoodie, tapped her feet like a wind-up toy, looked around for no reason, wiped away tears with her sleeves, and headed to McDonald’s.

II

Fernando Lopez was checking it out. Down there, on Madison, the world wasn’t cooperating. He had this thing he did. He’d stand against the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, “Reading the City.” His colleagues used to laugh at him and call him “Swami Lopez” but he got results. He’d pulled more than a few rabbits out of more than one hat and he was up against it again. As a member of the Board of Directors of ALMA, an organization designed to expose low income children to the Arts, he was especially passionate about his current project – renovating a donated bodega in his old neighborhood into a drop-in gallery/ studio/ performance space where artists could give some of the local kids a chance for some hands-on interaction, developing skills and confidence, and most importantly, gaining access to another world. The City had just shut him down. Permits! Unbelievable. The same people who hired him were making it impossible for him to do his job. He knew it wasn’t the City per se. It was the unions. No doubt about it. And behind them, it was the Mob. He noticed a woman so striking that even from this far up, he could tell why she was turning heads on Madison Ave. “This is why we never give up,” he thought. “Right now the next Madonna is showing up broke at Port Authority or flying into JFK from overseas. Every moment is new. If you’re not moving forward, you’re falling behind. Now, the City itself, and its hanging-on overpriced unions were becoming their own still-born children.” He thought of his own days in the hood when he was a self-styled Godfather Robin Hood, dealing cocaine to the kids who wanted to be actors and musicians, most workin’ as bartenders and waitresses. Then they all started hangin’ out together and his customers became his partners, selling to the kids who came in clubbing on the weekends. Everything was smooth. No crack, no smack, no guns, no rip-offs. In winter he’d check on the old people to make sure they had heat and food, and get them whatever they needed. Then he got out, apprenticed to a neighborhood outreach program, went to night school, and here he was, just across town and a few floors up, bangin’ heads with the same city whose streets and schools put him where he was. Still and all, the City held the purse strings. “Money talks…” He had to figure out some way to loosen that grip. After all, if he could get it done in L.A. and Buffalo, he could do it for the neighborhood that made him. With all of the new cafes and galleries, there had to be a way to give the home kids a chance. He shook his head, exhaling a long familiar regret. In his case, hood was even thicker than blood. That wasn’t right. It was just the way it was. He turned away from the window and saw Anna, his assistant, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Anna?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you but there’s a call. It sounds important.”

“Do you know which department?”

“Department?”

“Is it a City department calling?”

“No, it’s a school.”

“A school?”

III,

Maria stank. She should’ve already known it but she truly got it when one of the women she delivered to, offered her a deodorant with her tip. Embarassing. But hey, it was a free deodorant! Now she was doin’ like all the other street people – using Starbuck’s bathroom to “freshen up.” She’d slept, well, not really slept, more like nodded out, in the storage shed behind the drug store. It was cramped and cold but it was safe. Most importantly, it was right where she had to be in the morning.The garbage trucks woke her up just in time to pick up her batch of prescriptions. Mr. K. was on the other side of the store when she hollered her “Good Morning, Mr. K!” and hit the street. She made twenty-five dollars and some change but school would have to wait. She had other things to do. It felt weird. She’d never deliberately cut school before but now that she was “blowin’ it”, she figured she might as well give her new life on the street her full attention. Mr. K’s shed definitely wasn’t the answer.

This was gonna be tricky. The shelter would wanna know why she wasn’t in school or with a guardian. She decided to tell them a version of the truth. She’d say that she worked in the morning and when she went home to get ready for school, her mother wasn’t there but her boyfriend who she didn’t get along with, and she had an aunt who sometimes came to the shelter so she decided to find her aunt to see if she knew where her mom was. The people at the shelter would at least give her something to eat and a little time to keep making plans.

IV.

Fernando’s cab bumped down the narrow street of his youth. It had somehow avoided the gentrification everyone was complaining about. They thought it was historical. He liked to say “So was the Black Plague. Wanna bring it back?” Those preservationist romantics should try living in one of these roach and rat infested walk-ups. It was all about getting’ out and givin’ back, until everyone who wanted out had the opportunity to go. No one should be trapped here, especially by their own mother. There was no one around – too early. He fought his way past the smell of urine and climbed the steps to his sister’s apartment. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since their mother’s death. He stood there for a while, processing his mood and thoughts, making sure they were in harmony. Then he took a deep breath…and knocked.

‘Marisol Santos!”

The television was shouting out an exercise regimen in “one’s and two’s and three’s and fours.” Someone had clearly passed out with it on.

“Ms. Santos! It’s the truancy officer. Is Maria Elena here? I have to report that I’ve seen her and she’s OK or I have to call the police!”

The television noise vanished and there was the sound of shuffling feet. Ah, the power of the “P” word. He hoped that the next voice he heard was female. It was.
“Who’s there? We don’t need no police.”

“Open up please.”

Marisol opened the door as far as the chain lock allowed and tried to shut it as soon as she saw who it was. He’d already wedged his foot and put his full weight against the door.

“Listen Marisol, everyone knows what goes on around here. If you don’t talk to me you’ll be talkin’ to the real police.”
The lock slid back and the door opened slowly, revealing a really sad version of his once beautiful sister, he held onto his emotions. Marisol knew what she looked like.

Fernando looked around and kept his calm:

“Is Maria here?”

She pulled her bathrobe tighter and thrust out her chin.

“She’s in school. Where do you think she is?”

”Of course. Today’s a school day. I forgot.”

He opened and closed the refrigerator.

“Carmen?”

She pointed down the hall. Fernando looked at his sister. Then he looked at her bedroom.

“Get him out of here.”

Marisol’s eyes widened.

“I can’t. He’ll…”

“Do it. This is your home. I’m gonna check on my baby niece. Once I’ve done that, we’ll sit down and see what’s what. Thirty seconds should just about do it.”
“But..”

Her eyes, already red, began to tear.

He patted her shoulder.

“No buts. This is over. You can do it. Does he have a gun?”

She shook her head.

“Good,” he smiled. “I do. Thirty seconds.”

And he headed down the hall.

She was so small in her small bed. Her complexion and breathing were good. Obscenity-laced protests were drifting from the front room but Marisol was having her way. She kept saying that it was private – about family and money, and that he could come back later.

“ Whatever.” Fernando laughed at his new-found maturity, “as long as he leaves.”

In the old “Code of Honor” days, something bad would’ve happened. He’d learned to stay focused. The door opened and, after a few parting threats, it was shut and locked. Marisol was wiping away tears and gave him a mean look.

“Happy?!”

“Yes.” He answered matter-of-factly. “In fact, I’m impressed. You wanna know what impressed me? What gives me reason to believe that this all may have a happy ending?
The fact that you demonstrated that,” he gestured around the apartment, “despite all the evidence to the contrary, you are still a Lopez.” He took a seat. “That you still know what’s right…what’s important…what’s necessary.”

Marisol started screaming. “What do you know?! You come in here out of the blue and suddenly you’re giving the orders? What? The check at Christmas suddenly wasn’t enough? Suddenly you got a conscience?”

“How’s Maria Elena doing in school?”

“She’s doin’ great. If you care so much, why don’t you go talk to her teacher.”

“I’d like that. I’ve got a few minutes before I have to get back. Maybe I’ll stop in.

Who should I ask for?”

“Huh?” She was still high from the night before.

Fernando looked her in the eye, and spoke very slowly. “What is her teacher’s name?”

Marisol started rubbing her hands together.

“Um…Leibman or… Friedman. It’s Ms. Friedman.”

He nodded slowly.

“I’d like you to clean up and get dressed and get little Carmen cleaned up and dressed. Mrs. Santiago is going to babysit her for a few hours. You and I are going to meet with Mrs. Diffinee. She’s Maria Elena’s homeroom teacher. She called me this morning because Maria is not in school. We know she’s not here. So we’re, you and me, are going to straighten this out before it gets any worse. Does he have a key? Don’t lie to me.”

She nodded.

“OK. Get yourself and Carmen ready. I’ll be waiting with a cab downstairs.”

She was ashamed but she couldn’t risk any trouble with Tonio:

“Nando, please.”

“No worries. Cross my heart.”

He’d call a locksmith. In less than an hour a new key would be waiting with Anna. He’d hit the school, have a cup of coffee with his sister, get her a new key, no copies, and follow it with a two o’clock meeting with the boys from City Hall. Not a bad day’s work. It felt good to be back on the old streets.

The cab pulled up. Fernando leaned into the window to tell the driver it would be just a second when the driver’s eyes opened wide, looking past him. Fernando felt the fire explode in the back of his skull, and the uncontrollable weight of his body lurch and crumble to the ground. Marisol appeared at the top of the steps.
“Nando!” She ran to her brother, pushing past Tonio, who was laughing and slapping a pipe into his palm. Fernando wasn’t moving. She screamed, “ That’s enough!” and knelt beside him, cradling his head in her arms, sticky blood everywhere. She kept screaming “Call an ambulance! Someone help!” Tonio laughed. “Send this maricon back to where he came from.” His laughter was interrupted by an approaching police cruiser. He tucked up the pipe, put a serious look on Marisol, turned, and strolled to the corner.

V.

There was only one place to go when you had to disappear and didn’t know anyone anywhere else… Up. Maria knew how to get on her neighbor’s roof. Tonio and his uncle might even know that she was up there but they wouldn’t go after her. They were too lazy, plus they knew that sooner or later she had to come down to check on little Carmen. Anyway, their real interest in her was about a year away. She pushed open the supposedly locked door and stepped out onto the usual array of condoms, needles, and crack vials, littered under a clear blue sky streaked by contrails from people leaving LaGuardia.

“Someday”, she thought, un-shouldering her knapsack. She sat on the gravely tarpaper, and leaned against the low brick wall bordering the roof. Then she took out her sketchbook and started drawing.

She was so deep into it that she didn’t even hear him walk up.

“Hey, whatcha doin’?”

Maria jumped.

“Whoa! I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just gonna ask if I could put you in my painting.”

She shaded her eyes. He was a funny looking old white guy with a real funny voice, pointing across the roof to a seat and a set-up where he was painting a picture.
“That’s what I do. I paint paintings. I like it up here because there’s no street or sidewalk, ya know? Don’t get me wrong, I got nuthin’ against people. I’m a people person but I’ve been painting in the street for years. I thought, ‘Hey, why not paint up in the air?’ Ya know, maybe something quiet compared to the street. Up here there’s nuthin’ but once in a while a pigeon. I like pigeons. I put them in my paintings. Don’t get me wrong. But you’re the first person I’ve seen up here except for people doing things they don’t want anybody seeing. Whatcha doin’? Studying? It’s none of my business. I’m just over there. I saw you and I thought it would be cool to put a young person studying up here on the roof, in my painting.”

It was all Maria Elena could do not to burst out laughing. He was the funniest person she’d ever met. He looked like a little old Santa Claus in shades with a funny little cloth hat. He seemed OK but she kept her guard up.

“Whatever… If you want to sit over there and paint, then sit over there and paint. I got stuff to do.”

She looked around for a way to get to the stairway door, while she slipped her book back into her bag. If he went back to where he was painting, everything was tight. But if he went for his pocket or his zipper, she’d bust a move.

He kept talkin’, “Hey! I don’t mean to make you stop what you’re doin. I’ll stop botherin’ you. I just like to ask if it’s OK. OK? No offense.”

He took a few steps backwards, palms up. He was like a cartoon character. She was pretty sure he was OK but she played it carefully.

“I said it was alright. Alright?”

He kept back-peddling.

“OK. Just checkin’.”

“Watch it!” Maria yelled. Too late. He hit a little rise in the roof and fell over backwards.

She jumped up and ran over to him, ” You OK?”

“Yeah. Do you see my glasses anywhere? They must’ve gone somewhere! It’s hard to paint when you can’t see.”

Maria already had them in her hand.

“Here mister. Sure you’re OK? You should sit down.”

She led him over to his seat. He plopped down.

“Man, that was sumthin.’ What a buzz kill.”

“Buzz kill?”

“Yeah.” He took a few deep breaths. “Whew, the whole roof was like..rollin’, ya know?

His face lit up.

It didn’t really roll, did it?!”

To Maria he seemed a little crazy. Maybe he hit his head.

“Mister, you alright?”

“Yeah. Sure. Are you alright? Aren’t you supposed to be in school or sumthin’? What’re you doin’ all alone up here in the middle of a weekday? Hey, if you’re playin’ hooky… Look. That’s none of my business. When I was your age…”

She stopped him, pointing at the canvas “That’s cool.”

“What? Oh, that? That’s just…”

“I like the way the whole sky is moving and the rooftops are like dancing and everything is so many different colors. It’s like a dream. How do you do that?”
“Well, you just …you just paint the feeling. You know, you try to listen to the song…every moment has its own music.”

“Yeah?”

She looked away, swallowed hard, bit her lip, and started trembling. Her head was spinning and she could feel the angry tears surging in her eyes, her small chest heaving like it was gonna blow up. She fell to her knees, shaking her head back and forth. “What about me and my sister?” She looked up at the blurry old man on the seat. “Why don’t we have a song?” She pounded the roof with her fist, sniffling loudly. “It’s not right.”

The painter almost fell over backwards again.

“Whoa! I’m sorry. Hey. Here. C’mon. Here.”

He offered her a clean handkerchief.

“C’mon, take my seat. I’ll sit over here on the wall.”

A few long seconds passed without a word while Maria Elena calmed herself.

The painter remembered growing up on the tough streets of Chicago. But that was a snap compared to this. No crack, no AIDS, neighbors who watched out, for better or for worse. He couldn’t imagine bein’ a kid these days. He could hardly imagine bein’ himself.

Maria looked over at him through aging exhausted eyes, her voice cracking.

“Can you help me?”

He couldn’t believe what was happening. She looked like the little birds he’d seen once in a while that fell from their nests before they could fly. He always felt bad for them, really bad. But he always walked by. Like, what could he do? He knew there were people who took them home and fed them with eyedroppers, but phew, man, that wasn’t him. Who knew if they ever even lived or learned to fly? He didn’t do kids or animals. He flew solo. Then again, she wasn’t some pigeon. Suppose she was an angel! Suppose this was a test – like God, if there was a God, was pullin’ a fast one to see if he had the goods or if he was just bounce’n’ along, getting high, rollin’ on the sidelines. It was at least worth a listen. Even if there was no God, what was he gonna say to a cryin’ kid all alone up on a roof in the middle of nowhere? No?! I’m not gonna talk to you?

“Sure” he fidgeted. “Sure kid. What’s up? I’m Dwight.”

VI.
Fernando’s head was numb and throbbing at the same time. He knew that the gauze was holding it together but he felt like it was squeezing his brain out of his ears. It hurt to open his eyes and just looking around made him woozy. A voice was whispering his name.

“Hey Swami, I didn’t mean for you to take the name so seriously.”

It was Cindy Allison from Cultural Affairs.

“Hi Cyn. I always wanted you near my bed but not like this.”

“Easy tiger. You took a pretty good shot. You’re gonna be here for a little while. I’ve been talking to your sister. She sends her love.” She squeezed his hand. “For what it’s worth, your little escapade worked out for everyone but you. You’re all over the papers. I explained that it would be better for everyone if the story line was all about how the City and the unions were donating space and know-how to our kids instead of “Arts Organizer KO’d While City Shuts Door In His Face!” They got it. We’re good to go!”

Fernando squeezed back, smiled, and let her words carry him to dreamland.

VII.

This kid was sumthin’ else. Dwight was no social worker and he was too old to get mixed up with some mad dog drug dealers but he had good street sense. The pop-up bodega/gallery just might do it.

“See what I mean?” Maria pointed up.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. I get it. That’s cool, but it’s too bad. I mean it’s cool but ya gotta get out, at least like to Central Park or someplace besides the roof.”
They were talking about the sky. She’d showed him drawings of uneven rectangles, cut-off triangles, bits of squares. When she was really little, that’s what the sky was to her – blue or grey or black shapes between buildings, above alleys. Someday she’d do a sky video starting with her drawings, then it would become pictures of the real sky from the alleyways and streets, then a big big sky when she was somewhere far away. She’d go far away where the sky was big like in the movies and she’d wait for a rainbow and film it. And then if she could, she’d make a rainbow in the street like the one she saw the other day right where they were standing. First there’d be the fake dirty rainbow in the street; then there’d be the beautiful rainbow in a big sky. She’d do a “voice over” about herself and the sky and rainbows in the sky, not going down the drain in the street. She just had to learn how to do it.

The pop-up bodega/gallery was hoppin’. There were all kinds of people in sweat pants, coveralls, and jeans, inked-up and earring’d, many in hand-painted hi-top Cons, sporting dreads, shaved heads, scraggly beards, and pony tails, boppin’ to rap music and running around in what looked like circles, while older men in hard hats leaned over a table full of drawings and shook their heads. A large, paint-spattered white woman with dark curly dreads, greeted them at the door:

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite sidewalk superstars! Figures you’d know each other. One’s always paintin’; the other’s always drawin.’” She leaned over to shake Maria Elena’s hand. “Hi. Welcome! Mucho gusto! I’m Madie. My Spanish isn’t too good. Maybe you can help me with that.”

Maria had learned not to trust smiling strangers. They always wanted something. She mumbled a “Maybe” in response and found herself unexpectedly relying on her new friend, Dwight. He pointed into the construction space. “Guess you got the go-ahead, huh?”

“Just a while ago. C’mon in. Let me show you around Paradise. They’re already calling it “Pair’a Dice.” Actually, I kinda like it. Whaddaya think?”

They went on talking about plans and politics and proposals while Maria took it all in. Everyone was smiling and talking to each other as they worked, and they were working hard – knockin’ down the back wall, scraping the floor. They were even laughing a lot while they worked! Her grandmother was the only one she ever knew who smiled while she worked. Here, there was a whole roomful of them, except for the old white men who didn’t seem happy at all. She had to be careful not to get in the way but no one was cursing or threatening anyone. She liked it. She liked it a lot…but she had to be gettin’ back to check in on her sister and figure out what she was up to.

“Maria?”

It was Madie.

“May I show you something?”

Maria looked up at Dwight. He nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

Madie took Maria’s hand and led her through the workers and out the back door.

They picked their way through a rock and weed strewn yard full of broken glass, busted furniture, a supermarket shopping cart – the usual.
“Careful,” Madie cautioned.

“They used to do all kinds of weird stuff back here but we’re gonna fix it up. We wanna put a little restaurant back here with tables and umbrellas to keep the sun off.” They reached the back of the building that fronted the next street over.

“Here. I want to show you something.”

Madie opened the door and then immediately opened another one on the right. She flicked on the light as they entered:

“This is where me and my boyfriend live. We’re in charge of making sure everything is OK with this building. We put out the garbage, sweep the street, fix whatever gets broken. And they give us this apartment. Not bad, huh?”

Maria could feel what a nice place it was. The only windows were facing the back but it was all clean and pretty and bright. It made her feel happy.
“Now, Dwight tells me that you want to go say hello to your baby sister and that’s a good thing to do. But after that, if you don’t want to stay there, I want you to come back here and stay on that couch, OK? You can stay here anytime you want to. We’ll be working in the gallery. Just come to the door and I’ll bring you back here, and you can get a good night’s sleep so you can be wide awake for school. You gotta do good in school or you won’t be able to help your sister, right?”
Maria thought her grandma must’ve sent this woman from heaven.

“Yeah. I know. OK.” She didn’t want to cry. “I gotta get goin.”

“Me too.” Madie smiled. “Let’s go.”

They made their way back to the front of the gallery where Dwight was negotiating an advance on a painting from an admirer. He was assuring him that putting his chihuahua in the painting was no problem. Maria interrupted him to tell him she was leaving.

“Hey, kid! How’d it go?” He looked at Madie. “Did it go alright?”

Madie smiled and nodded. Dwight turned back to Maria Elena:

“You OK then?”

“Yes, Dwight. Thanks to you. Gracias amigo.”

She wanted to hug him but held back. Dwight peered over his shades. “Hey, no problem. Us artists gotta stick together, right?”

“Right. Later.”

She turned and headed down the street, not knowing whether she should laugh, cry or shout at the sky. So she just kept walking.

Things were different when she walked up to her mother’s house. There was no one on the stoop. Even before Tonio and his crew showed up, there was always someone on the stoop. In fact, there was no one anywhere. Something was wrong. She took the stairs two at a time to Carmen. When she got there, the door was unlocked. The door was never unlocked. She pushed it open ever so slowly, and wha…? All the breath left her body. The room was spotless. And her mother sat motionless, slumped forward on the table, head in her blood-soaked arms. Half puking, she ran to her sister’s side. Baby Carmen was fine, smiling that amazing Baby Carmen smile. Maria picked her up, held her, and kissed her like she never held her or kissed her before, the whole time whispering promises that soon they’d escape to a better place. She placed her back in her bed, took a very deep breath, and returned to the kitchen. At least Tonio wasn’t there. He’d be snoring or gettin’ ready to do business. Slowly, she approached her mom. The urge to puke came back. She gently poked her shoulder. It was the first time she’d touched her since her last birthday.

“Momma?”

A broken muffled voice sobbed, “I’m so sorry Maria.”

She was alive!

“Momma! You’re bleeding! Where’s the phone!? Where’s…”

Marisol half-raised her head and stared into the face of her humiliation.

“It’s not my blood. It’s your Uncle Fernando’s. He came here because…” she started to tear at her hair, “because he cared about you more than your own mother!”
“Oh Momma!What happened? Where’s Uncle Fernando? Is he OK?!”

“I don’t know. He got hurt. The police were here. They took him to the hospital. Listen. Have you got a place to go?”

“Yes. But I’m not going to leave…”

“Listen to me. Mrs. Santiago is coming for Carmen. Carmen will be fine. You can see her there.”

Maria wiped her mother’s hair from her eyes.

“What about you momma?”

Marisol placed her palm against her daughter’s cheek.

“I’ll be here. Tonio has to come back to get something he left. I have to be here to let him in.”

“No you don’t!” Maria insisted, “He’s evil! You weren’t like this before he came here!

This is our house!”

Marisol smiled.

“You are your Uncle’s niece. You sure you have a place to go?”

Maria nodded.

“Then go. You can’t change this. This is mine to deal with. Let me deal with it.”
Maria hugged her around the shoulders.

“I’ll take great grandma’s pot and bring some arroz con pollo tomorrow. I love you.”

Marisol held her close.

“Be safe, my angel.”

Maria passed Mrs. Santiago on the stairs and promised to see her the next day. On her way to the gallery she saw Tonio and his uncle in the park, thought of her Uncle Fernando’s blood all over her mother, and vowed that he better be OK…or else.

VIII.

Maria looked at the clock and smiled. It was almost two o’clock and she felt strong. She’d paid attention all day, she had money in her pocket from Mr. K’s, and she was on her way to keep her word and make arroz con pollo for everyone at the gallery. That way, she was helping out – not just taking something for nothing. Later, she’d take what she put aside, to her mother. She knew that if she didn’t put some of it away, there’d be nuthin’ left. There was no point in buying baby food for Carmen. Mrs. Santiago didn’t believe in it. She’d have her on mashed tostones and fish chowder – probably better than any baby food. .

She could hear and see the hustle and bustle at the gallery from a block away. The dumpster was almost full and they were still loading all kinds of junk into it. Madie threw in a broken chair from the backyard, wiped her forehead, and started back in.

“Madie!” Maria yelled.

Madie turned with a huge smile. Maria was running to her.

IX.

Marisol felt her jaw swelling even as the bitter taste of blood burned in her throat.

“Get up, bitch!” Tonio loomed over her, fist clenched. “I show you who’s the boss aroun’ here. Thanks to your stupid fuckin’ brother, we got cops all over the place. We can’t do no business. Well, maybe we start a new business. Get up ‘n get in the bed!” He offered his hand, smiling. “My uncle gotta friend. He wanna get to know you.” Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Tonio’s eyes widened. He motioned for Marisol to get up, pointed at the door, put his forefinger to his lips, and slipped into the bedroom. Marisol gathered herself, wiped her mouth, and took a deep breath:

”Who is it?”

“It’s Ms. Diffinee, Maria’s teacher. Is this a bad time?”

Tonio motioned for Marisol to get rid of her.

“Thank God I cleaned up,” Marisol thought, rubbing her jaw. “At least there’s no blood showing.”

She grabbed her jacket, opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it behind her. Marisol’s jaw only re-confirmed what Ms. Diffinee already knew. As a teacher of many years, she’d found herself, like her kids, in the middle of all kinds of destructive domestic scenes.

Marisol zippered her jacket and stuck out her hand.

“Can we walk?”

Ms. Diffinee didn’t skip a beat.

“Sure.”

By the time they reached the gallery, Marisol had been turned inside out.Why was a stranger telling her how her daughter was doing in school, where she was living, and what she was hoping to be? Shame didn’t begin to describe her sense of worthlessness. Then again, this Ms. Diffinee was a gift from God. Thanks to her and to the people they were about to meet, Maria had been saved. Marisol knew all about how kids in the hood who ran dope, went to jail and got killed…or killed themselves any which way. Maria was surviving. Ms. Diffinee was now “Suzanne”. They were sisters. Suzanne and Madie and Fernando had been there while Marisol was missing in action. Now, her job was to get back on top of things so that everyone was there for the next kid who needed help.

That’s how it worked. Suzanne hugged her, wiped away her tears, and told her to be strong. Marisol was amazed at the changes taking place in the old bodega. She knew how bad it used to be. These new folks were serious. They reminded her of her brother. They had the brooms out. No B.S.. They were gonna keep the best of what the neighborhood had to offer and get rid of the rest. Straight up. She looked at the overflowing dumpster and the freshly painted walls. The choice was obvious.
Madie needed no introduction. She walked up, wiping off her hands.

“Hey Suzanne! Here to paint?” She turned to Marisol, pretending not to notice her jaw. “You must be Maria’s mother. Quite a girl ya got there.”

Marisol had trouble looking her in the eye.

“Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

Madie was leading them inside.

“No worries. Man, I’ll tellya, I’ve been around some food. That girl can cook! She learn that from you?”

“No.” Marisol mumbled. “My mother.”

“Well, whatever…” Madie smiled. “She just fed the whole crew and they loved it!”

Marisol kept looking around.

“Is Maria here?”

“Should be.”

Madie grabbed one of the painters.

“Seen little Maria?”

“I think she and R.J. went over to the firehouse to check out some video equipment.”

Marisol kept not knowing what her daughter was doing. And she kept hating herself for not knowing. Madie explained that “the firehouse” was the home of PRO-TV, a city outreach program for kids who wanted to learn about shooting video. The city had picked up an old firehouse and converted it into headquarters for the program. “R.J.” was a fifteen year old intern in the program. “Don’t worry.” Madie assured her, “R.J. is a brainiac from Stuyvesant. Maria couldn’t be with a better guy. I’m sure he’ll walk her back and, if it’s OK she’ll be staying with us tonight.”

Marisol had to accept the shame and be grateful that her daughter had found such wonderful people.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, better that she stay here.”

“Well,” Suzanne perked up, “that sounds good. I’ve got to go correct papers.”

“Yeah,” Marisol added. “I better go too. I’ve got some things to do. Tell Maria I’ll see her after school tomorrow. Thank you.”

With that they headed out the door. As they were leaving, Suzanne turned, Madie pointed at Marisol, and Suzanne gave her a thumbs-up. Outside, Suzanne asked Marisol if she’d just wait a bit until a cab arrived. Marisol agreed, and soon noticed a gypsy driver she knew who she motioned over to them.

“This guy’s cool. He’ll take you right to where you’re going. Well, I gotta go too. Thanks for everything.”

Suzanne smiled: “Get in.”

“What?”

“You’re not going home.”

X.
All the way over, Maria was telling R.J. how she wanted to make videos, how she carried “Digital Video for Dummies” everywhere she went, and how she’d never had the chance to work with real equipment. He promised to change that. She felt like she was in a fairy tale. The building had a big roof with windows built right into it and a tall tower on one end. R.J. loved being the tour guide. “I’ve studied up on it. It’s a firehouse from 1895 that became too old to use so they let DCTV pick it up and now they teach video classes and screen our videos here. Pretty cool, huh”

It was way cool. No one had tagged the walls or broken the windows. It felt magical.

R.J. smiled, “Thought you’d like it. C’mon, let’s check it out.”

They walked in and he introduced Maria to another smiling face named Tanisha and then he took her to the equipment room.

”Anything you could want is here. People donate all kinds of great stuff. Look at this!”

He held out a camera about the size of a cell phone. “This is a digital camcorder. You can shoot over an hour of high quality video with this thing.”
Maria turned it her hand. “Wow! It’s like a spy camera! It’s so small and light.”

“Right? You can even turn it on with a remote. You could just set it up and turn it on anytime you want. You don’t even have to be there. Or you could be in the video. Whatever you want, you can do it.”

R.J. kept describing equipment, specs, and uses, but Maria wasn’t listening. She had a plan. She’d have to learn more about the tiny camcorder:
“ Whoa!” R.J. looked at his phone. “Gotta go! Test tomorrow. We better get back to the gallery.”

It was after seven. The scene at her mom’s would be all business. She knew Carmen was
safe. The arroz con pollo could wait a day; her plan was at the top of the list.

X1

The next school day flew by. It was all about the plan. This had to work. It would bring her family together and get rid of Tonio. Back at the gallery, she made a nice pot of arroz con pollo, waited for sunset, and then headed over to 6B, trying not to think of what she’d do if he threatened her or tried to touch her. It was still slow on the street and the stoop. She lugged the pot up the stairs and slowly, let herself in. There was no one in the kitchen and the TV was off. It felt weird. She heard Tonio’s disgusting snoring in her mother’s room, She’d never been alone with him in the apartment before. She put the pot on the stove, and quietly pulled a chair away from the table. Her knees were shaking as she steadied herself on the chair and checked out the inside of the far upper corner cabinet. That’s where she’d hide the camera, catch Tonio dealing, and hand the video card to the cops. Her heart was pounding. She wondered where her Mom was as she closed the cabinet. It was always shut. If Tonio ever noticed that it was open and found a camera he might kill her…or worse. She left a note with the food.” Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Salud! Maria.” And she headed for the stairs. Soon Tonio and the others would be up doing business.

May they rot in hell.

XII

Dwight loved the sunset from up on the roof. The light and its long shadows transported him to his Chicago roots. He’d been painting in front of the building all afternoon, thinking that maybe he’d run into Maria.. Her not being around was probably a good thing. The people at the gallery were the real deal. Whatever was happenin’ downstairs was no good. She could get taken out in a crossfire or sumthin,’ It was just a bad scene. He looked around for the new tube of cadmium yellow a young artist had laid on him earlier. It was one of the perks of the gig. People were always layin’ stuff on him. Besides the paint, he’d probably had ten hits on various joints and about five sips of booze. The sunset was electrifying the sky. “This is a hit record!” he thought. “If I can get this on canvas, someone’ll snag it for sure!” Dwight was at his highest when the combo of good weed, a nice booze buzz, a great painting, and a rich buyer, all came together in one ecstatic convergence of oil and money. “Here we go!” he thought. “Lift off!!” as he poked through his box for the tube of yellow paint that would make his masterpiece possible. The kid who gave it to him said it was the same paint Van Gogh used. Where the hell was it? The light was shifting. Soon he’d lose it! Dwight started to get frantic, feeling his pockets, looking under his chair, standing and turning in circles searching the ground, reaching into his bag. He took a few hits on a joint to clear his mind and focus. Finally, he tossed away the roach and decided to check around the roof. He felt the sunset slipping away…and with it, the whole shebang, including the great dinner he was gonna buy himself. Plus, it was probably a twenty dollar tube of paint! He walked over to the door leading to the stairs. Maybe it fell out when he was walking up. There’d be another sunset tomorrow. Now, it was all about the paint.

Mrs. Santiago said a quick prayer for baby Carmen. How could one so small and helpless survive in this crazy world. She worried about Maria too, and their mother. Marisol wasn’t a bad person; she was weak. Madre de Dios. This was no place for the weak. As she looked heavenward and started to bless herself, her fingers stopped at her forehead. Black smoke was billowing from the roof of Marisol’s building. She yelled “Fuego! Fuego!” startling passersby who craned their necks and immediately punched in 911. A crowd appeared on the sidewalk, pointing, and assuming the worst. One young man ran to the building yelling “Fire! Everybody out!!” He ran up the steps and went on on in, pounding on doors. By the time he got to 6B, the street party was well underway. Tonio yawned and shook his head:
“Fire?! Shit.”

He pushed the curtain over and peeked outside. People were everywhere. There was more shouting coming from the halls, along with babies crying, and an approaching siren. He rolled out of bed, took a swig on an open beer and got ready to leave…for good. Enough
was enough. The place was cursed. He’d pack up his shit and go to his uncle’s.

Dwight heard all the commotion and figured it was a bust. It was exactly what he’d been fearing for Maria and her family. The paint had simply vanished. He decided to return to the roof and wait out whatever was going on downstairs. When he opened the door, he froze. The area around his easel was belching thick black smoke high into the evening sky. It was his paint rags! This had happened once before. He was pretty sure he knew how they caught fire. He started kicking the rags around and pulling his easel away. There was a lot more smoke than fire but he knew it looked bad from the street. He had to get off the roof before the cops and firemen showed up. He didn’t need any bad publicity. Once he got downstairs, he could blend into the mob scene.

Tonio had just re-loaded his supply and he wasn’t gonna leave it behind. Cops and firemen were already outside. They’d be out back too. There was no way to go but straight out, just like everyone else. He’d been fronted a quarter kilo. Marisol was supposed to be part of the payback. That would have to wait. He’d just roll the dope in some clothes, throw it all in a garbage bag, and rush out with everyone else. Nothing to it. He went to the kitchen to get a garbage bag from under the sink, spread it open on the table, and loaded in the drugs and clothing. There was a loud knocking at the door. “Fire Department! Anyone in there?!”
“Just me!” Tonio yelled.

“Gotta go! Now!”

“OK! I’m leaving!”

He tied the open end of the bag into a knot and saw Maria’s note. Figuring “Why not?” he grabbed the iron pot with his left hand, gripped the bag by the knot, and joined the crowd scrunching down the narrow stairs, past the firemen hauling a hose to the roof.

A few floors behind him, Dwight was a stoned jumble of easel and canvas, half stumbling down the stairs, thanking the firemen as they pushed past him, and trying to look inconspicuous.

As Tonio arrived at the top of the stoop, he looked over the crowd and spied his uncle across the street. They exchanged smiles, and Tonio gave him a thumbs-up with the hand holding the bag. He was glad to be leaving Marisol and her whole bad news situation. It would’ve been fun to mess with her daughter but she’d be around when the time was right. His foot hit the top step and instantly flew out from under him, slamming him hard onto his side. The iron pot landed with a loud clang, spilling arroz con pollo all over the place, just as the garbage bag popped open and the dope went tumbling down the steps. Tonio lunged for it but instead found a blue shirted wrist that had beaten him to it. The officer smirked down at him:

“Easy, Poppy. What have we here?”

“I’ve never see that before!” Tonio screamed.

The officer tossed it to his partner, who opened it, tasted it, and smiled. Tonio’s face was pressed against the ground as the handcuffs bit into his wrists. “Too bad about the rice and chicken.” The officer lifted him to his feet. “I’m sure it’s better than the food at Riker’s”

The crowd parted as Tonio got hauled off. Dwight arrived at the top of the steps and saw the tail-end of everything. Then he spotted it – the stepped-on squished-up tube of paint all over the top step…right where he’d left it. A trail of cadmium yellow oil stained the stoop and sidewalk step by step to where the patrol car had taken Tonio away.

XIII

The big night arrived. It was hard for Maria to believe it was only two weeks since Dwight had brought her to the storefront. The old bodega was now officially the Pair’a Dice Gallery. Their motto: “This is how we roll!!” Her mom was gonna make her first public appearance since she finished the two weeks away that Ms. Diffinee had arranged. Maria and her new friends from the gallery had completely re-painted Apt. 6B. It looked brand new…just like the beginning they were all gonna have. Baby Carmen would be coming home from Mrs. Santiago’s but could still stay there if something came up. And of course, there was great grandma’s arroz con pollo to be served to all of their guests. Plus, there was “R.J. the D.J.” who was rockin’ Rhianna with The Beatles – a mix that was makin’ him a star. Maria was nervous. Where were the people? She’d made a ton of food and the gallery paid for it. Who was gonna eat it? It was getting stormy outside but Madie assured her that everything was fine, saying that people always came late. Sure enough, little by little, the “art scene people”, the media, the Mayor’s office, locals, and other artists started to drift in. Maria ventured out from Madie’s kitchen and before she knew it, the place was packed with adults – really nice adults, laughing, kissing each other on the cheek, and posing for pictures. Madie caught Maria’s eye and pointed at the entrance. A couple was arriving to all kinds of fuss and excitement. Maria couldn’t tell who it was because of all the bigger people blocking her view so she made her way through the crowd and, there he was, Uncle Fernando! He was with a beautiful woman who was turned talking to some people at the door. She ran right up to him as he crouched, beaming, to take her into his arms.

”Maria Elena! Cocinera granda!” He swept her into the air, announcing to one and all.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce the chef responsible for the fantastic arroz con pollo you are all invited to enjoy! May I present the one and only Maria Elena Lopez-Santos!” The gallery gave her a huge ovation that made her blush. Fernando kissed her, whispering:

“I want you to meet my date.”

Maria turned in his arms and there before her was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She looked like a movie star. Everything about her was perfect. Maria shrieked:

”Mom! Oh my God! You’re so beautiful!!”

Marisol wrapped her arms around her brother and her daughter, kissing them. A male voice interjected. “Excuse me, but is this the great chef I’ve heard so much about?” Fernando turned:

“Oh, Jesus! Anthony Bourdain!”

“Pantero?”

Fernando laughed while they hugged and slapped each other’s backs.

“Pantero” used to be Fernando’s street name; Bourdain was one of those customers who became friends in the old days. Fernando introduced him to Marisol and Maria who both knew him from television. He smiled a warm “My pleasure” and excused himself to “mingle.” Maria was almost delirious.

Just then, there seemed to be some kind of a scene taking place outside. A chihuahua was on point at the end of its leash having a barking fit while its owner was berating Dwight. Dwight turned and walked away shaking his head, his hands over his ears. The man grabbed the canvas from Dwight’s easel, flung it into the street, and stormed away. Dwight ran into the street to get his canvas and almost got run over. A police cruiser pulled over. Dwight explained that the guy thought the chihuahua looked like a rat and refused to pay for the painting and that Dwight told him that his chihuahua looked like a rat! So the guy went nuts. They handed back Dwight’s canvas, told him to take it easy and avoid trouble, and they took off. He couldn’t believe he’d done all that work for nothing. Just then, Madie and her boyfriend came running out.of the gallery to see what had happened. Dwight started to tell them.

“Whoa! No way!!” Madie pointed.“That looks just like Bonita, my mother’s chihuahua!”

Dwight said he’d paint-out the first guy and paint-in her mother, no prob, for free!

Madie was ecstatic. Dwight shrugged and smiled.

“Hey, it’s not the first time a B-side became a hit record.! How’s the food?”

Back inside, Bourdain sat beside Maria.

“So I hear you wanna travel and make videos?”

Maria smiled and nodded.

“Well.” he smiled. “Tellya what. If you keep up your grades, you can come and work with me during the summer. You cook for the crew and my people will show you around the video equipment. Deal?”

Maria thought a prayer of thanks.

“Deal.”

They shook hands. Then Bourdain leaned closer. “You wouldn’t want to tell me the secret to your arroz con pollo, would you?”
Maria smiled:

”Some say it’s the chicken. Some say it’s the rice. The smart say nothing!”

Bourdain burst out laughing.

“Ha! Point taken!”

She closed her eyes and glimpsed her destined rainbow.The journey to it had begun with the love and laughter in the room as the compass in her heart

.

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