Cubanita Read Free Page A

smiling openly.
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    I stroll around the art room, helping my seven-year-olds draw monarch butterflies. One of my students, a stocky little girl with shiny blond hair, tugs on my shirt. “Ms. Díaz?”
    â€œYes?” I smile.
    She points her black crayon at a wide-eyed boy next to her. “He’s bothering me.”
    I can’t possibly see how this poor boy can be bothering her. He looks like Bambi, for Christ’s sake. But there—it tooka whole twenty minutes for the kids to start telling on one another. That’s the only thing I don’t like about this job.
    â€œBothering you? Why…” I look down at my clipboard. “Yessica, he’s just sharing the crayons with you. You have to share, sweetie.”
    Yessica looks about as thrilled at hearing this as, say, a cat going in for a flea bath. She sighs. “Fine. But only because you knew my name. And because you’re pretty.”
    â€œOh.” I touch my hair for some reason.
    â€œYou look like that lady with the brown hair and brown eyes from that commercial about the shampoo that they play when my mom is watching that program she watches.”
    No clue what she’s talking about, but if I look like anyone in any hair product commercial, that’s good, I guess. “Well. Thank you. Yessica. That’s very nice of you.”
    Now, why didn’t Robi ever tell me things like that?
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    During lunch, Susy’s baffled. “Why didn’t Iggy ever mention Andrew? I mean, hello, they were roommates.”
    â€œWhy are you surprised? Don’t you think Iggy knew what he was doing by not introducing you two? You would’ve traded him for Andrew in a heartbeat. He knew that.” I guess Iggy wasn’t as dense as I thought. “Besides, you guys only went out for a month.” Sex. That’s all Susy wanted from him anyway.
    No answer, as she bites into a bologna and cheese sandwich.
    At 4:30, the first day wraps up smoothly. No accidents,tantrums, or barfing. No children eaten by ferocious alligators. Mami will be disappointed. My afternoon kids worked with watercolors wonderfully, better than I expected. Minimum spillage and a surprising sense of impressionism for second graders. Best of all, it’s been a peaceful day away from home.
    But every time I turned a corner today, walking the kids to their next activity, I felt a presence. As much as I tried to avoid it, I knew that Andrew’s gaze was fixed on me from the PE field, dark eyes following me from underneath his baseball cap.
    Though it should feel a bit creepy, a part of me is satisfied that someone actually bypassed Susy’s “take me, I put out” antics and noticed me instead. For once. So I find myself smiling for the second time today.
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    Home less than a minute, I already hear the kitchen radio blaring the daily specials at Sedano’s supermarket, and my mother begins invading my personal space. “ ¿Ey, casi las seis? ¿Cómo te fue? ¿Qué hicieron? ” She heaves a basket of laundry onto the living room sofa. She’s trying hard not to be intrusive, asking only three questions rather than the usual twenty.
    â€œI’m late because there was traffic, it went fine, and the kids loved my lessons. How was your day, Mami?”
    She sighs heavily and drops next to the basket to begin folding. “You didn’t call, Isa.”
    â€œSorry, Mom. It was a busy first day.” I plop down next toher and begin matching socks.
    She whips a T-shirt into shape, then transforms it into a perfectly folded rectangle. “ Stefanito se fue a la playa con Oscarito . He hasn’t called all day either.”
    Stefanito. His friend Oscarito. My mother must make everything diminutive. It can’t just be Stefan…no, it’s gotta be Little Stefan. Not Oscar, Little Oscar.
    â€œYeah, but if Stefan’s been at the beach all day, he should’ve called you. It’s not