Dominicana

by Angie Cruz

Love’s not a choice for you to make,

Mamá has lived long enough to learn a man doesn’t know what he thinks until a woman makes him think it.

Everyone’s always telling me to smile, even when there’s nothing to smile about. Smile, Ana! You’re a pretty, young girl! You haven’t seen the worst of life yet! So sometimes I smile so that people will leave me alone. But this time no smile comes.

What about what I want? What do you want, Ana? I don’t know.

Mamá grabs Papá’s arm in solidarity, an unusual gesture, understood by Ramón because he smiles and shakes my father’s hand as if I have already said yes, although nobody cares what I want.

Then it really hits me: I’m leaving. Dread and fear and excitement ripple through my body. Once I leave no one will ever treat me the same. My life will be a load of gossip material for Juanita and Betty, who lost their parents in a flood and have lived with us ever since I can remember.

I’ll be the woman with dollars, and fine clothes, and beautiful skin from all the good lotions Juan will buy me in America. I will be given lists upon lists, with orders to be filled.

They’re gonna eat you alive in New York if you don’t change that pendeja face. You need to toughen up, Ana. You think I like being the way I am? But your father has no backbone. Never fought for anything in his life. Not even me.

You go to America and pretend you don’t care about what he and his brothers are talking about, but you listen carefully and take notes.

I promise nothing bad will happen to you. You go to New York and you clean his house and cook him the kind of food that will make him return home every night. Never let him walk out of the house with a wrinkled shirt. Remind him to shave and cut his hair. Clip his nails so women know he’s well taken care of. Demand he send us money. Demand he take care of you. Make sure you sneak some money for yourself on the side. Women have necessities. And whatever you do, stay strong. Don’t allow yourself to be tempted or derailed by anyone. The city is filled with predators, and you’re just a girl. My innocent little girl. I’ll come to America as soon as you send for me. We’ll all go to New York to be with you, and together we’ll build something. I swear to God who’s my witness.

Please try and be happy. It kills your father to see your sad face all the time.

You really want to go away with that old man? Teresa asks.

Look, Teresa, I finally say, when one’s hungry no bread is too hard to eat. I have no choice.

Don’t worry, I say. We’ll all be together in New York one day. You’ll see.

Over there you’ll have no one, Teresa says. No family. No one to protect you. She presses her forehead against mine, our sweat gluing us to each other.

I’ll protect you, he says. I’ll fly there and kick whoever’s ass. A man’s heart in a child’s body, that’s Yohnny.

You’re just like Papá, Teresa says, who lets Mamá boss him around.

All morning, my father rocks on his chair and smokes his pipe. My mother pokes her head out the kitchen window checking on me, smiling and waving. All her hopes and dreams tie into me.

Oh, I want to be grateful for my fortune. But I don’t want to leave our house in Los Guayacanes painted the color of buttercups by my late grandfather, the only house for miles that has survived all the hurricanes. Our house, the one I share with my parents, Yohnny, Lenny, Teresa, Juanita, and Betty, where there is everything I know and can imagine, for all of my life.

To distract myself I run through the list my mother gave me before Juan’s arrival. Go to America. Clean his house, cook him dinner, clip his nails. Send Mamá money, learn from Juan, learn from the brothers. Study hard in school and become a professional. Learn English. Send for Mamá and Yohnny first, so they can work. Send for Lenny so he can enroll in school, and then for Papá and for Teresa and the baby if she is ever willing to leave El Guardia behind. I’ll demand what I need from Juan, for myself and my family. I will make myself indispensible.

Don’t look at people, it attracts trouble. And close your mouth.

You inspire me. You know that? Me? What do you mean? The happiness must’ve shown all over my face. No one has ever said such a thing to me.

So you love me? he asks. My throat has to unlock. What do I know about loving a man? Yes, I do, I say in a voice that sounds as if in between radio stations.

I will teach you everything I know because in New York everyone needs a side hustle to survive. You can’t just wait until someone finds you a job, you gotta have skills and get that cash.

Money, money, money. Is that all you brothers think about, César? Don’t you?

In between the lines: We miss you. We miss you. We miss you. Nothing is the same without you here.

You’re so generous and good in the heart, Ana. My eyes water. Not even my mother ever says such kind things.

Tell me you love me, he says. You know I do. Tell me you’re happy to be with me. I’m happy. I am happy. With me. Tell me you’re happy with me. I just nod.