She drank more and more merlot. I’d swear she was flirting with me under her veil. I offered to drive her back to the Bronx.
“Shut up,” she said. And then Alicia startled me. She reached under her veil with one finger and flicked away a tear.
“I loved to be their lookout. I’d dance in the street, while Uncle Tiny bust his balls, carrying sinks on his back. And my other tío, this old man. I always danced for him, like Salome. I haven’t danced ever since. Now I live…”
Alice’s Eyes from Jerome Charyn’s Bitter Bronx –Thirteen Stories
Originally published at blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com.