The Pulse between Dimensions and the Desert by Rios de la Luz Read Free Book Online

Kate Winslet naked in Titanic at the Dollar Theater on Paisano. I cared when I settled a couple of fingers inside myself during winter time to warm my hands at first, only to wake up to pruned fingers after a nap. I cared when I kissed Laura as a dare at a church retreat. I cared when Rosa laughed and pointed at my crotch during a sermon.
    My underwear was too big and the skirt I had on was too tight. My bush overcame the tightness of my skirt and created a puffy cloud over my pubic mound. I tried to press it down before we had to shake hands with new members of the church. Pat, pat, pat. I was frantic and continued to smack the fluff. The cloud remained. When I got home, I shut the blinds and combed through it. I gooped hair gel on it and tried to flatten it out. I sat in my purple fold-out chair with no calcones on and a cool breeze whispering to my crotch from the air-conditioner. Mom walked in and yelled something like “Ay, mija, this isn’t the Panocha Monologues. You can’t just sit with your legs open like that.” My face burned and mom handed my underwear over to me.
    “Mamá, I don’t think I’m normal.”
    “Why not, mija?”
    I couldn’t bring myself to mutter a word. She sat with me in silence and patted my head when she was done braiding my hair.
    “Take a warmth bath. Wash the gel out of her or him or whatever gender kids are giving their panochas these days. I’ll bring you some tea and I will turn on the X-Files for you okay?”
    Sunday school became fun because of Laura. We sat next to each other in the second story of the church and documented the number of women with anti-gravity hair. The average number being seventy-two. There was one Sunday where we both brought a bottle of hairspray and tried to give each other anti-gravity hair. Her hair was curly like mine so I decided to make her head into a nest instead. She braided my hair up and sprayed it to a crisp. We ran to the second story of the church and tried to hold back laughter as the pastor discussed white lies becoming habitual.
    “Do you ever lie to people?”
    Laura asked me this while tracing the curls in her nest with her finger. I told her I wasn’t sure what I would have to lie about. She took out her notebook and jotted down the number of people with gray hair below us. She counted the redheads. She surveyed for anti-gravity hair last. When the sermon was done, she handed me a piece of paper and told me not to read it until I got home. I couldn’t wait to get home. I ran up to my room and opened her note. It said “I like you.” Mom knocked on the door and asked me what I wanted for lunch. I held the note between my hands. I asked her to come in.
    “Mamá, someone left me a note. It says ‘I like you’.”
    She smiled and snatched the note from my hand.
    “Do you like them back?”
    My heart was thumping louder and louder. I tell her yes, but it’s a girl. Mom, it’s a girl who likes me and I like her back.
    “Okay then. You both like each other. That’s very sweet. What do you want for lunch?”
    I hugged my mom and my belly growled with butterflies and hunger.
    The next Sunday, I saw Laura and she looked away when I waved at her. I asked her to sit with me upstairs. I remember sprinting up the steps. I got there before she did and once she made it to the bench I simply said “YES.” I wrote “I like you too” into her notebook and erased it so the people above us could not see it. I motioned for a high-five and she smiled and we high-fived. I smiled through the sermon, although I can’t remember what the pastor was saying. The church felt comfortable and safe for once. It was because of the church that I met Laura.

 
     
    LA LOBA

    Darkness has shifted the desert air. I watch. The distance is enough. She cannot hear me. She’s wearing a red gown that drags behind her as she inspects the environment. She starts a fire. She’s wearing the mask of a quetzal with iridescent green feathers and a tiny yellow beak.