The Mare

Velvet

I went to bed that night not even wanting to touch my mom because she threw my horseshoe out the window and started screaming when Ginger called. But I fell asleep and then I woke up and she wasn’t there and I was scared. Instead of her, Dante was holding a pillow put sideways, like somebody took my mom and put the pillow there to fool him. I hoped she was just in the bathroom, but I knew she wasn’t and I was right. I got out of bed and went to look for her. When I got to the kitchen, I thought she’d gone away and left us. I opened the window — I don’t know why, maybe to call for help — and I looked down and saw she was standing on the sidewalk with her hoodie on over her nightgown. It didn’t make sense, she was afraid of this place. She turned her head sideways so I saw her nose and forehead from above; that made her look small, like a kid who was lost. I went downstairs and opened the door. I put my head out and said, “Mami, what are you doing?” When she turned around, her face was quiet and far away. I came out and I saw — she had my horseshoe in her hand. It made me smile so much I couldn’t talk. We stood together. The air was smelling like fall already. I saw that her legs were bare, but she had her sneakers on untied. “Peaceful,” she said. “It’s peaceful.”

We just stood there, hearing the quiet, feeling the buildings in the dark and the ground humming under us. A car went by booming music and it was different than during the day.

When we went in to bed, she put her back to me like always. But when I put my arm around her, she held my hand. I said, “Bendición, Mami,” and she answered with a smiling voice. “Dios te bendiga.”