The Mare

Velvet

So I had to tell Strawberry she could not come see the horses. I told her at recess when she came to see me in the cafeteria. She was quiet and then she said, “It’s okay. I won’t be here anyway. My mama found a place. I’m going back on Easter break.” And she went to be with the others.

—

Then they invited me for the day after Christmas. They were going to have a tree. We never had a tree. In school we had one, my cousin Donna had a pretend one, and there was a silver and gold one at the restaurant where we went last New Year’s. But my mom never got a tree. At first Dante acted like he didn’t care. He said, “Yea! You won’t be here!” Then at dinner he acted like a brat, sticking out his tongue with food on it. So I stuck my tongue out too. My mom was so busy slamming dishes down on the table and talking so loud about somebody at work who criticized her that she didn’t notice. Until he kicked me under the table and I said, “Mami, make him stop!” And she slapped my head and said, “It’s your fault.” And he kicked me and I shoved his food in his lap and he fake-cried and my mom hit the side of my head and told me to go in the bedroom, no food.

I didn’t care. I just closed the bedroom door and opened the window and looked out. Outside, it was raining hard and cold. You could see the rain hitting the dirty sill and pouring in the streetlight. You could smell the wet street and see some dirty snow from before. The only thing that was Christmas was colored lights in the window across the street. I couldn’t see the people that lived there, but I could see their shadows moving on the ceiling. I could feel my grandfather there saying, She doesn’t mean it. She loves you. She’s letting you go have the tree.

I believed him. Still, I wished somebody from here could go with me. My brother. Or Strawberry. I wished Strawberry could go.