How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water

by Angie Cruz

In fact, this blazer doesn’t fit her anymore, even when she wears the faja. She never takes off the faja. Never. Not even to sleep. OK, maybe sometimes to sleep.

I told her and Lulú that I know what is real and not. I am not a pendeja.

And my son, Fernando, has been gone for ten. Why do you say sorry? Ay, no. My son is not dead. He abandoned me. Maybe one day, si Dios quiere, I will tell you about Fernando.

But listen to this, she didn’t even think to sue the building. We all told her to do it. But she said, I’m my father’s daughter, and then sang, Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crece la palma. Do you know that song? Yes? It’s a good one.

In my bag I always have napkins, the dry ones and the wet ones. I even carry plastic bags for emergencies like this.

She's just like me, fr.

Let me give you some advice, fall for the man who loves you more than you love him. Do you have a good man in your life? No? You should secure someone while you are still young.

Ay, now it’s me that is too serious. This is why I prefer not to talk, because if you don’t talk, it is more easy to forget the things of life.

The old super who lived in the basement would bring out the barbecue. We’d throw chicken, hamburger, everything we wanted on it. And the management never said nothing. But now, dique everything is a fire hazard. We were able to do what we wanted before the hospital opened all the laboratories and those other people moved in.

We know: the secret to a long life is to get at least ten minutes of sun every day.

She would have never gone to the college and could never write that poem that supposedly won her a $1,000 prize. One thousand dollars! She should be publishing a thank you letter to her mother’s chancleta. It saved her life!

My purse flew up and my lipstick, my change, my Kleenex, my wallet, my keys, my aspirins, my banana for when I got hungry, all the photos of my son that I carried for when I asked strangers if they had seen him—all of that fell to the floor.

You never heard that word? You said you’re dominicana. You don’t understand Spanish? Oh, just a little. OK. Desahogar: to undrown, to cry until you don’t need to cry no more.

Anyway, when Fernando left, Lulú did something for me that not even my sister Ángela would do. When Ángela saw me cry, my sister said, You’re drowning in a glass of water. I tell you, Ángela is cold. But cold! Pfft! She has no feelings for me. Not Lulú. She understood that I had to cry until I undrowned from the inside.

Every day, Lulú comes to my apartment to drink un café, because I make it better. So when Lulú didn’t appear today, I lost my understanding of the day.

she still comes to my apartment every morning and we talk about our dreams. No, not the dreams we make for the future, but dreams from when we sleep and get information about our life. Sometimes we don’t know what is happening in us, but the dreams know. So we must listen.

You know the song by Los Hermanos Rosario that goes: Esa muchacha sí que baila bueno—they wrote that song for me. ¡Ay, sí! Men always chose me, even above the women who were young and dressed cheap like a cup of flour. When I went to dance, I forgot my life.

In the apartment I saw a big photo of Walter Mercado. The photo remind me how every night, all of us, Ángela, Fernando, Lulú, and I would wait to listen to Walter’s horoscopes.

We all had washing machines for many years but that was no problem because nobody wanted to live in Washington Heights, only us. But now everybody wants to live in Washington Heights because it’s not expensive like downtown. And now the area has the white people bar, and the white people gourmet bodega, and the $15 white people personal pizza, not even for a family.

Alicia the Psychic wrote to me the day before I went to that interview. She said Mercury is in retrograde. You don’t know what that is? Every few months for three to four weeks communication is bad. So, for example, you can’t sign contracts.

Ángela will still not talk to me. She’s an Aries. It takes a very long time for an Aries to forgive.