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At night, we’d fall asleep with our phones pressed to our ears, like kids with conch shells, listening to the oceans out of reach.
That’s not to say I didn’t love him, but until we were reunited next, I placed him in the same mental drawer where I kept memories of pets that had run away: wherever he was, I just hoped he was okay.
I implicitly trusted any Caribbean woman with a resting get-out-my-face face,
it was like I’d ordered a Big Mac and gotten a MacBook.
Just for a little while, I want to remember the time before Pulse was the place where they were lost, back when we went there to be saved.
She said happiness is the ultimate rebellion. And I think that the man who hurt so many of our friends last night, his goal was to make us too scared to leave our houses and to make us feel like we were alone and like our community didn’t exist. And just by being here, we’re proving that that’s wrong.
There was a time when we were scared, the two of us stumbling down the sidewalk at night. But we weren’t alone. There were always people waiting. All we had to do was let the lights in the distance remind us the way.
I am a memoirist. There is nothing I want more than a happy ending.
The words sank into me like a rock. Okay, Panzón, I thought. Good for you. Good for choosing you. I didn’t say it, but I meant it. I still do.
To be the main character was to matter. It was self-preservation in a world that seeks to erase our existences.
