I want to say that I was a daddy’s girl. 

I’m almost 40 so some of the memories are a little fuzzy lol. My parents split when I was a little over ten. My father and I didn’t really have many experiences together after that. I never knew a second home with him. When we were together it was always in the street. Having dinner and talking for a few before he took me home.

 I always wondered why he never brought me to where he lived. Why he never tried to connect me with his other family. I had a lot of questions then and now. They’ll remain unanswered but that’s ok, I’m not here to tell those stories right now. 

From what I remember, my father was never a disciplinarian.

As a man who wrestled with his demons, particularly alcoholism-most of what I recall involves some stage in the intoxication circle. I will say, I never experienced him being violent or mean. I did however, see him get hurt countless times, including a slip and fall in the shower. Several times where he cut himself ( as a diabetic this was a major issue) and the occasional mugging he experienced. 

This doesn’t sound like someone who could really take the moral ground. What I remember was a lot of comedy relief, a lot of hugs and kisses with his raspy mustache. ( THAT I HATED! the ‘stache not the affection) and some really random things I’ll save for another post as they are too precious for me to share at this moment. 

There were about three times where he played the Dad card.

 I can’t really remember the reason, other than he probably had asked me not to run or something like that in the house. Of course I was defiant and again, a daddy’s little girl. He casually threatened me with the chancla. So naturally I ran in circles in front of him while he was watching tv. At some point, the chancla made contact with my tiny baby ass and the world crumpled beneath me. 

I felt betrayed. 

It didn’t even hurt, and if it had, it still wouldn’t have made a difference. It was the fact that he, my father, did anything else but love me and let me get away with it. I recall immediately crying giant wet tears. I also remember that before the chancla came off my person, he had me in his arms. basically apologizing to me, which made me cry even more. He said he didn’t want me to get hurt, which was ironic, cause did you not just hit me with a sandal? I knew what he meant then. I deserved it because he patiently warned me a million times. Yet I insisted that I needed to have my way and thwack,

the chancla slap heard round the world happened. 

As an adult, I can see how problematic all that was. How it also created a soul memory that will later carry into my relationships with men. I demanded to be allowed to do anything I wanted. With no repercussions or protests and although that attitude helped me also survive a hell of a lot of traumatic experiences, it was really toxic.

The second time was when I wanted to hang out with the neighbor’s son.

They lived below us. My mom and his mom were friends, which meant we played together all the time. So mom had to step out and I was left with my dad at home. I reminded dad I was allowed to go play, and he said, “Sure, after lunch.” Didn’t think anything of it. He sat me at the table and says “You have to eat all your food and then you can go.” “OK!”  I must have said, or something like that, as I happily bounced on the chair. In a moment, he placed the plate of buttered noodles ( one of my favorite things) in front of me, and my heart sank. 

Might as well have put the whole colander in front of me

because let me tell you, there was a pound of pasta on my plate. NO EXAGGERATION. I took the fork and began eating. Long story short, I was at the table, stuffed to the point of throwing up, but hardly made a dent. “Daddy, I’m full now! I ate a lot! Can I go now?”  He sat next to me, leaned over and said “Did you finish all your food?” eyebrows raised in question. “No, but you gave me a lot!” I said, annoyed and pouty. 

He goes on to explain why I wasn’t going to play. I did not hold up my end of the bargain. I remember arguing the only point I had. Which was that he cooked the entire box and expected ME to eat all that when clearly, I had eaten more than my share, it was just too much. 

No. 

Betrayed again. 

I never had the chance to ask him why he did that. I can guess it had everything to do with me going to play with a “Boy”. Especially that I would be going to his house, and was totally out of sight. I think my parents had a conversation about it at some point. I don’t really remember being able to hang out with Brian often after that.  It was his way of protecting me from men. Was it toxic? Yea, but bless his spirit for trying and not knowing any better.

**( So randomly having a conversation with my mom and I ended up getting the answer to this mystery. At some point I was wearing a dress and Brian lifted my skirts. My father was pissed AF, now we know!)

 As a young adult, in a very heated argument with my ex I let fly

“If my daddy was still alive, you’d be dead.”

Somewhere inside of me, I believed, as some little girls do growing up, that their father would protect them. That they would give their lives for you, and probably commit several crimes, including murder. We had been estranged for years before his passing. He was dead and gone, but I gave myself permission. In that instance to invoke his spirit of protection in a moment of danger and it worked. 

The third time, I had just gotten my first tattoo.

It was a classic tramp stamp! I was 18 in a crop top and the lowest-low rise jeans invented. I was hanging out with all the loading dock guys. Showing off my ass when he comes flying out all flustered and basically says I can never meet him at his job ever again. We were like two rams butting heads now. Both of us making points as to why the other was being ridiculous and neither of us budged at all. Finally he tries to hit me with

I’m too young for tattoos, and shouldn’t have them, anyway.

I take a step back, observe his late summer outfit of shorts and a t shirt then gesture at his whole person. “Dad. You’re literally COVERED in tattoos ,like there’s no room to even see your skin!” he hits me with the usual “well, I’m a man” and got the famous face I make at men who say dumb things to me. 

Thrice betrayed. 

Eleggua has been with me, watching me, taking care of me, all of my life. The steps leading to being initiated in the ATR of Lukumi /Regla Ocha, I have been fortunate to have a down to earth (literally) connection with this orisha. I haven’t had the opportunity to see many of his mounts in person. Our interactions are mostly through divination and the random eshu in the street. When I say we are close, I mean that any reading I have had, Eleggua manages to speak about all the hidden things I keep inside of my brain. He pulls the thread and releases them into the light to bring me peace and understanding.

I have had the craziest experiences

with random people on the street giving me the advice I so desperately needed in that moment. He has approached me to say that I was beautiful. To keep my head up and smile through my pain. He has complimented my food scraps, and always offers his blessing. His child once entertained me with an air violin. I am truly humbled and blessed.

He has been the father I always needed. 

 The countless times  el saco la cara pa’ mi ( stuck his neck out )  I’ve been in crazy situations that I don’t think I would have survived if he wasn’t always watching me. He held my hand and dragged me through several thresholds I needed to cross. Things were kind of a hot mess before I made Ocha and honestly I didn’t think I was ever going to make it. Then the worst happened.

Eleggua embarrassed me. Publicly. 

I wanted to die. I went home and I threw myself at him, cried aggressively and just kept asking why. The way that all went down, was awful from start to finish. He mounted someone I was having issues with. I get left on the floor, and the whole room is staring at me, then I get thrown into the throne, given a very short time line and my “godsiblings” were laughing at me. 

I felt so betrayed by him.   

Overnight something shifted though and I was walking my basket over to my Madrina’s house. Anyone who in their adult life works towards initiation knows the struggle, and the millions of obstacles. Eleggua sent one of his kids to help us all get there through laughs, fights, strife, tambores on the 6 train, great food, dim sum and the magic that eleggua’s kids bring to a situation – RESOLVIMOS ! 

Year 2010 :

In Ita as the first to always speak, he straight up said, I never betrayed you. legit, that’s in my book.

I’m your dad, love it or hate it  I’m going to show you how awful the world is but also how great it is too. By the way, if I ever have to show you how dumb YOU are, its not going to be cute. Im not going to spare you because I promise that I have warned you, tried to help you etc so

I’m going to let you trip.

When you’re on the ground, bleeding and crying, I’m going to stare at you for a moment.  We are gonna lock eyes, so you know I’m literally watching you cry,  then pick you up ,throw peroxide on the cuts then take you for a soda float, because you’re my child and I love you, but please, try and see where I’m coming from, so we don’t have to do this. (that’s not really how he said it but but that’s how it came across). 

Fast forward to 2019

Eleggua says, hey, you have an idea, and I like this for you, I saw what you started last year and I’m on board, lets get it! 

2020 Eleggua says

Ok, ok… there were a few bumps on the road, I know how you get, but can you try to move past them and let’s make it work? You got this , just have to be creative about it, use ALL the things…. 

Pandemic hit! I shut down, and haven’t recovered. 

2021 Eleggua says

You raggedy ass bitch, I TOLD YOU several years ago to get it together and now look at you? This is going to be one hell of a year, you thought it was bad before but child… You’re going to trip if you’re not careful… if you do… remember what I said about that?

 :: insert pursed lips::  Also… I’m still trying to help you….

January came and hit me with a bomb I thought I would never recover from but I managed, still managing it,  then May happened and I cosmically tripped. 

May 2021 OYA says

MOVE ASIDE ELEGGUA, leave her on the floor!!! Did you hear what your father said? Eh?  Now we both are annoyed so guess what? It sucks to be you. Now get UP

because no one is coming. 

I’ve spent all these months licking my wounds, because there was no peroxide, no bandage and certainly, no ice cream. I’ve been put in some annoying positions and some scary one’s too. I know what loss is, and I’m afraid of it. That’s what has me paralyzed. Fear. I’ve become a coward, a domesticated cat that’s been put out into the wild again and I’m spiraling. The instincts are there, I don’t think that ever goes away, but boooooiiiiii it is taking a long time to kick in! We are in the winter months and it’s about to be cold out there, literally. 

I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me

but unlike many people when stuff happens to them, I’ve known about this for a while. I’ve run out of “get out of jail free cards” and have to do the time. I was really hoping for another out, I even rolled the dice, praying for good odds but got a 5 and a 4. It’s fair. 

 I spent 2021 like a deer in headlights. Standing there, paralyzed by fear, not picking a direction in which to jump because the possibilities were too many and so now at the end, I brace myself for the impact and pray the car that hits me will swerve so I only break a foot and not my neck.

–

It hit me. 

I’m laying on the side of the road, in the dark and no one’s coming. 

That was the lesson he taught me this year because I’ve been laying on this road for a lot longer than I thought and just didn’t realize it. No one is coming nena because they are waiting for you somewhere else, and now you’re injured, in the dark, with no map and it’s snowing.  

Ive spent so much time figuring out how NOT to fail

that it’s the only thing I have actually achieved in all this time. Failure to even try, haunted by fear. I let everything get in front of me, unable to walk through the fog while having 4 eyes, my ass has been blinder than ever. 

Hey rock daddy…

the only thing I know that I can promise for 2022 is that I’m going to try and embrace the macaroni paintings of life because the Botticelli’s are out of reach right now, but that’s not forever, and I know that now. I’m learning that slowly, as I’m still laying on the roadside.

 Really… I’d just like to get to the part where I learned my lesson, we are going for a soda float and you’re holding my hand again… 

 I’m working up the courage to stand up

and take those steps towards you, still in the dark, still full of fear, but now the fear has to be a motivator because the reality is, nothing is worse than the wrath of Oya! (I KID! I KID!! ) There is a lot of work ahead of me. 

I appreciate all the time I spent laying down and digging deep to try and figure things out. I still dont know what the fuck I’m doing but I’m happy about that (genuinely) and although I am a ball of nerves, I’m ready to get up, which I think, is exactly where Eleggua wants me to be. 

I was dating my High School sweetheart

for about two years. It was almost prom season and we were all thinking about college. Except, I was running around trying to finish an internship in order for my conditional acceptance to the CIA ( Culinary Institute of America) to be moved to fully accepted. 

My Boyfriend had graduated the previous year and was out in the work force while attending college classes, so needless to say, well all had a full plate. After years of friendship, we knew each other well enough that although time was no longer a luxury we had, we would make the best of it. Luckily, I had a half day on his day off. He would pick me up from school so we could hang out or go somewhere. 

It was my favorite thing to do all week. We were a classic goth couple, children of the night and always dressed to impress. These were the days I pulled out the lace, the corsets, the pvc, the leather, the boots, the gloves, you name it. I was his Goth princess. Mr. W was 6’2 with dark hair and pale skin, much like me but I was 5’3 making me tiny next to him but the boots helped give me a few inches extra! 

Sadly, things took a turn with his schedule

so we were only able to see each other once a week, sporadically, and that meant that sometimes we didnt see each other at all, but we spoke every day on the phone, and exchanged letters when we did see each other. I missed him terribly, and I know he missed me too. The conversations also started getting less frequent and I remember the “this is getting so hard to see you with our schedules” conversation which should have really been a red flag but I was dumb and in love. 

Walking across the East Village to the west side with my bestie, I complained about missing him. She did her best to cheer me up and give words of encouragement, but I was in my feelings. That is,  until we saw Carlos. He always put a smile on my face! Mostly because he was so hot ( dont judge me, I was 17). He had long light brown hair, a classic goatee, tattoos and 5 tongue piercings. He was an artist, and worked at an art supply boutique. Seriously, he was dreamy and I always fantasized of having a Draw me like one of your french girls, jack  moments, but that never happened. 

He was always happy to see us

and that day was no different. We started chatting and basically he mentioned having been with Mr. W recently. “Really?’ I questioned. He sheepishly tried to back track and reminded me how close they lived to each other and that they got together to watch wrestling etc. “So you haven’t seen him?” he asked, kinda scared. The red flag was hoisted here folks! “Have you guys, er.. Spoken?” he searched my face for the answer but was met with confusion. “ Is something going on?” I finally asked. He tried to laugh it off and blah blah blah me into a safe space but It didn’t work. He said “Look, its not my place to say, but you guys should talk, that’s all I can say.” he threw his hands up and we left it there. We hugged him goodbye and we left. 

Half a block in silence

and I said “Fuck it, I’m going back! Wait for me at Barnes and Noble.” Leaving my friend behind, I ran to the store, busted through the door and said “Tell me. Now.”  Carlos sighed deeply, locked the door, took my hand and brought me upstairs to the studio. It was exactly how the movies portrayed an art studio and for a second I got lost in the beauty as he lifted me onto a table and said “Look.” 

Rubbing his face with his hands he says “Its no secret that I like you, so coming from me doesn’t look right.” “Carlos!” I pleaded “You’re fucking hot..” he whispers into my ear. I am literally shaking. Here is Dreamy Mc Dreamboat telling me he thinks I’m hot, literally whispering into my ear everything he wanted to do to me at that moment, so please know that my soul just left my body. I think my heart stopped ya’ll. 

“Carlos please!”

I said, whimpering. It took everything in my person to not give in to this Goth King, I was weak as hell! He squeezed my thighs “Ok…” a lump formed in my throat, my heart was racing from the excitement but now it just turned to fear. “Tell me” I breathed.

 “Remember how I said Mr. W comes over to watch wrestling?” he raised an eyebrow at me. I nodded and he continued. “Well, one day he asked if he could bring over a friend, and I said sure. Soon he just started bringing this girl over all the time which was no biggie to me until they started kissing.” He immediately grabbed my hand. “He’s with someone else Drea. I’m so sorry.” 

He pulled me into a tight hug

expecting me to ball my eyes out but I was shocked. “Are you ok?” he asked softly. “Uhum..” I nodded. He lifted my chin with his thumb and forefinger. searching my face he sighs “I love when you give me those big brown eyes”. Here is where I died again for the second time and really lost sight of why I was there. Instinctively I reached out to hug him again, tightly, fighting the tears, because I wasn’t going to cry. I loosened my grip a little as I began to calm down. He kissed me, and I let him. That escalated quickly. 

“let me worship you…”

he says, like a true Goth King. He smiled but sadly, because he knew my heart was broken and he knew that I wouldn’t consent. “I can’t.” I smiled just as sadly back. “I gotta go.” I sighed, as I jumped off the table and grabbed my stuff. He walked me out and kissed my hand as I was leaving. “Amor, I’ll be waiting here for you whenever you’re ready.” “Oh, FUCK!” I stammered. “Omg, Aura!” “Cariño” he purred “she’s knows how I feel, and she’s waiting for you too, if you want.” he gave me a pat on the ass out the door and I left. Angry, confused and excited all at the same time. 

I found my bff and told her what happened while we rode the train home. Getting off at 42nd street on the E train, we walked the tunnel to catch the N train. This was the best route to get to my house. We were still turning over all the details about my conversation with Carlos when I dug my nails into her arm. “No fucking way” I chuckled as I pointed for her to see what I saw. Mr. W was walking towards us holding hands with a tall ass goth chick with huge tiddies. He was lost in conversation but all I could see were those giant breasts getting closer to me. ( clearly I felt some type of way since I was a B cup and thought they were cute, be her tits were gorgeous, and I seethed with jealousy).

It all happened so fast

but he must have felt us staring because he locked eyes with me and my friend. He quickly threw her hand, as if we didn’t see him holding it the whole time and made as if to say my name but before he could say anything, me and my bestie looked at each other, then back at him and cackled while waving goodbye. “Andrea!” he finally squeezed out, so I turned, blew him a kiss and wagged my finger No at him. 

I wouldn’t take his calls for a while.

Shortly after, I went back to see Carlos for lip service and coffee. I was hurting and he offered me comfort. Aura met us after and held me like a baby, stroking my hair while I raged because I still couldn’t find the tears. “It was the tiddies, baby” she cooed. “He was mesmerized by them.” “I mean, they were great” I mumbled. Swatting my ass gently, we both giggled.

Wrapping me in her over sized sweater, I played with her soft blond hair as she rained kisses on my forehead and cheeks. The affection was helpful, as she meant to mend me too. “We are here for you” she said, entwining her fingers in mine. We drank our coffees holding hands and laying on each other on a big couch. In our little nest I felt safe, and not at all weird about what had just happened with Carlos. As if reading my thoughts, she kissed me and said “It’s all right baby.” They walked me to the train, both kissing me goodbye and I went home. ( If you saw the last season of YOU where the NDA came out, that was me, in confusion.)

They would have made great sex magic partners. Click the link to read more about that.

Side Note: 

I didn’t see Carlos again for a while until we ran into each other at the Albion on my 18th Birthday. I was seeing my first husband at the time but when Carlos saw me, he let out a giant roar of happiness! Excited, I ran towards him. He lifted me into the air, smashing his face into my chest while turning me in circles as we laughed and he kissed my cheeks. He saw my fangs and I saw the look in his eyes.

The Fuck me eyes were strong

When he was putting me down. Squeezing him tightly so he would listen, “I’m here with someone” I giggled and he quickly went to shake everyone’s hand- Forever Goth King Vibes. I don’t have many regrets but this was probably one of them though I wasn’t a good candidate for a thruple lol. 

Back to the story… 

 I was ready to talk.

We spoke, he apologized and asked to see me. I was numb but I wanted to look at his face. 

We saw each other and the pain ripped through me like a million paper cuts. My skin burned with rage, hate and pain, but I wasn’t ready to feel that yet. We hugged at some point, even kissed, but we broke up that day. We were really in two different places and I couldn’t look at him the same anymore. I made him promise to take me to prom. There were too many people who were waiting to hear we broke up and didn’t make it. I wasn’t giving anyone that satisfaction, so I kept the break up quiet. Still, I didn’t mourn, I wanted him to feel my pain.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. 

My revenge was arctic. He got to see me run away with my much older lover, in the old school Rolls-Royce that brought us, as I watched him from the back window and waved goodbye to him for the last time. Mr. W broke my heart but that night, after breaking his I drowned my grief in vodka red bulls and kisses in the dark. This was where I belonged, in these arms, and so, I didn’t need to process this pain. I was living my dream life. 

Until those dreams were dashed on the rocks of pride.

but that’s another story

I want to say I was in fifth or sixth grade. 

I had an afro that created a large black halo around my head. Nothing about it was cute, and I dressed somewhere in between baggy but I’d really like to try and look more feminine, but it was an epic fail lewk. I struggled a lot with my appearance. Mother always wanted me neat and clothed. It didn’t really matter what that looked like. For me, it meant getting made fun of constantly. I kept to myself a lot but also learned that I had a voice to go along with my frightening appearance, so I became a formidable force.

I had a few friends but stayed away from boys a lot. Encounters with them turned into crazy battles, hurtling insults that ended up in me screaming at the top of my lungs so that I could keep the tears in. Being quick witted saved me most of the time yet it always ended with me crying about it later.

I wanted to be a pretty girl, desperately wanted to be seen. 

The classroom was broken up into 6 groups with 4-6 kids to a clump. I sat in the first row of groups  at the far end, near the windows at a table of 6. Easily accessible to the teacher and within ear shot, we were a no nonsense group. I was always a good student and enjoyed learning, most times. English was my favorite subject, but somehow I didn’t make it into the elite reading club, as apparently, I was ready for it so instead of reading at my level, I leaned on trashy supermarket novels or whatever I could find in the library to soothe yet another wound of rejection. 

Lonely hearts story: 

Generally things went smoothly in class, I really don’t remember much as it was so long ago but I will never forget Manny. I think he was thrown into our class with the hope that our teacher could deal with him. It didn’t take long before he moved from group to group as he was disruptive and did not catch on to the material quick enough.  He stayed with my group the longest ,and I want to say it was because of me that he lasted as long as he did. I tried to keep him focused and on task, helping where I could, shushing when I couldn’t. He was never mean to me, and made sure to do whatever I said. I remember getting sick and when I returned to school, Manny was no longer at our table.

Manny was moved to a desk that faced the black board.

Literally, up against it. The teacher even placed a divider between him and our group as we were the closest to him and she didn’t want him interacting with anyone.  As an adult looking back, I think he may have had ADHD and needed to be in a Special Ed class. Sadly, folks were still pretty ignorant about those things and so, he was forcefully isolated. 

Manny stayed quiet for a while, and behaved. Occasionally Manny allowed to interact with us sometimes, when the teacher let him move the barrier. He did goof around still, and went out of his way to try and make me smile or laugh. I liked Manny, he was my friend. A detail I omitted with the rest of my classmates. 

Everyone said he was weird, annoying, stupid and didnt belong in our class. When I tried to stick up for him the first thing people would say is “Oh? So you like him or something?”. Immediately, I shut up. These bullies would say anything; I didn’t, but they wouldn’t believe me. 

I didn’t believe me. 

During recess, I encouraged him to listen and behave. Sadly, I begged him to act normal. He laughed at me and said, “But I am normal!”. I reminded him that he faced the black board all day and was hidden in a corner. “That can’t be right, and you know it” giving him a raised eyebrow, he nodded in response.

Unfortunately it came time for there to be another situation where Manny was trying to be social during free time but everyone thought he was being weird. “Leave him alone!” I said to the boys bothering him. “He’s not even talking to you guys, just go away!” I chided. 

“Andrea likes Manny!!!”

they screamed in unison. “Stop!” I said mortified. “You’re being childish ” I said. They started pushing him, egging him on to fight back. This time I yelled, getting the attention of everyone around us “Stop!! Leave him alone!” a crowd formed around us, closing us in. The boys began pushing him again so he pushed back. “Stop!” I screamed with several other girls chiming in but clearly these boys wanted a fight. 

“Why are you defending him?” one of the boys asked me. “You DO like him!!” another boy yelled from the sidelines. “STOP!” I yelled back again, “I DON’T!!!” looking at Manny, I sighed and said “He’s my friend.” 

They all laughed at me. 

“Stop Laughing at Her !” Manny roared, pushing the boy who instigated the whole thing. “Leave her alone!” I could see he was breathing heavier, his chest going up and down faster and faster. I don’t know if he’d ever been in a fight but he looked ready. Before I could do anything the same kid yells “so YOU like her! What a joke! She’s ugly, look at her!” and they all laughed. Tears burned in my eyes like acid, leaving marks on my cheeks because I couldn’t hold them back.

 I pushed through the crowd that was still laughing yet in the background, I heard Manny say “I love her, she’s beautiful!” while raining punches down on the boy. I was long gone before teachers rushed in to break up the fight. Running into the bathroom I locked myself in a stall. I  cried so hard I was choking. Holding myself in a tight hug I tried to understand what had just happened. “I like you too,” I whispered. 

I Imagined it was  Manny’s face that I pressed my face to and not the stall wall. 

He was out for a couple of days. When Manny came back, his right eye was a little black and blue, his lower lip was cut. I remember asking him if he was ok, but his immediate response was to hug me. I flinched and pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!” I said harshly. 

He looked at me confused and sad, “but I like you” he said softly. “I love you” he whispered. “No, you don’t.” I scolded, turned on my heel and sat down right away. From that moment on, he tried everyday to make me laugh or smile. He would do anything, and that got him into more trouble than usual. 

I ignored him completely. Determined to forget what happened and what I was feeling, I switched seats with someone in my group so I was as far away from him as I possibly could get but he was persistent. Leaving chocolates in my desk, little notes, and tiny fake flower bouquets. All of which I pretended to ignore but secretly put away when no one was looking. 

February rolled in…

Valentines’ day fell on a Friday. We all made valentines day cards for everyone in the classroom and would distribute them during free time before we went home. The teacher let us have a little party so we all got to relax and hang out with our friends. Poor kid wasn’t allowed to join us. He watched us, smiling but I could see the sadness in his eyes. 

Towards the end Manny was given permission to distribute his cards. Many of the kids were cruel towards him. They ripped his card up or threw them away. Some even flat out refused to take them but he still went around to everyone then sat back down. I and a few other girls went over and gave him cards. Happily, Manny jumped up from his seat and started pacing a little. This is something he did when he was nervous or excited. “ Hey Andrea?” he said softly. The girls had already moved on, leaving us alone for a moment. “Yeah?” I said curiously. “Can you come to the back of the line at dismissal please ? ” he asked. I gave him a weird look and he says “ please, just come.” “Ok,” I said and walked to my desk.  

He decided to stay standing at his desk

so he could see everyone enjoying themselves at our makeshift party. I sat at my desk fidgeting with cards while making small talk with my tablemates. This gave me an opportunity to look at Manny without being obvious. 

He had his hair slicked back, with what looked like a little pompadour. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, with slim fitting jeans, a small cuff at the bottom. Paired with simple dress shoes, he looked very neat,put together and handsome. It was a retro look, something I came to admire in my adult life, but in that moment, he was just precious to me. Manny smiled and laughed to himself as he watched everyone. Pacing every now and then but quickly reminded himself to be still. He casually combed his hair with a little black pocket comb that came in a burgundy plastic holder and fidgeted with that the rest of the afternoon.  

 I wondered what he wanted that I should stay behind at dismissal. 

The day was over and we formed our two lines to exit the building. I stayed in my place until the other kids rushed past me to find their parents. I stayed back as Manny had asked me. “Here” he said, shoving a small box into my hand. “Happy Valentines Day,” he said with a big smile. feeling shocked and overjoyed I returned a toothy smile while quickly opening the box. 

The gift was a pink candle from Avon in a heart shaped sea glass container. A simple little red velvet bow adorned the cover. I touched the ripples of the glass, unable to look up at him in my shyness. “Do you like it?” he asked. “Yes” I whispered, blushing. In the background I heard some kids asking what we were doing, and there was a buzz all around us but I was in the moment. Trying to carefully put it away, I was so nervous that my hands were fumbling as I struggled to get it in the box. 

“Thank y-” I began but was quickly caught off guard when he leaned in to kiss me. Manny missed the target and got half my mouth, half my cheek. The crowd around us roared in shouts of screaming children saying “EWWW!!!” 

My face flushed beet red.

I was embarrassed and angry. I immediately threw the candle on the floor and as it shattered I screamed into Manny’s face “ I DON’T LIKE YOU!”. His face crumpled. I could see the hurt as he lifted his hand to his chest to hold his breaking heart. I wanted so much to be seen, to be pretty to someone but how, when I didn’t actually feel it. Worst of all, there were so many conditions in my head, criteria even. Although Manny was handsome, sadly he didn’t measure up, solely because he was different, and we both couldn’t be different in my mind. 

I ran. 

I ran for what felt like forever but it was just a few steps to my bus. 

“Que te pasa?” Mariola the bus lady barked at me. “What happened to you?.” “Nothing!” I said back icily, and she didn’t bother me the rest of the time.  

In my seat I was alone and sad. I cried myself to sleep hoping this was a nightmare. When I got home, I ran upstairs to try and forget the day. Thankfully it was a Friday. The weekend would hopefully be enough for most people to forget but I wouldn’t, as I held the little red velvet bow that somehow ended up in my pocket. 

I broke my first heart. 

Broke my own in the process.

I let the world bully me into hurting someone, to protect myself from that same hate. I was a coward, which was probably the really hardest feeling to swallow. We liked each other but I couldn’t reconcile everything happening around us and so, I didn’t have the tools to fight this war. I surrendered before it even started. 

We went back to school and it was as if nothing had ever happened but Manny was hurting, and misbehaved. A lot. He threw things. Screamed at the teacher, and at one point was forcefully taken out because he would not listen to anyone. A few days later, Manny was removed from our class on account of his uncontrollable behavior.

I never saw him again. 

I mended my heart with the help of my grandma’s kitchen magic for a sad pre teen. Buttered saltines and her famous sweet-spice tea. Manny was no longer occupying space in my mind after a while but would forever remain a barometer for the rest who followed.