“Do what?” Now she was pouting her lips, holding her phone at arm’s length. Press. “Like, go back and forth? You, like, cruise around, acting like yourself, but also, at the same time, kinda white—and then what? You go home and eat arroz con gandules and plátanos fritos and call it a day?” There. I’d asked it. She was the first person I’d ever spoken to like this, could speak to like this.
