La India

The other branch of my life continued even after the right had withered and broken off. This branch was my nights. La negra never let me kiss her or touch her in any way she didn’t want to. When she wanted something, she went for it.

Before the sun set, I opened my window wide and let the cool breeze come in from the beach. It would be hours before I saw he show up under the street lights. She came only in the shadows and usually told me to turn off my lights when she was in my room.

One night she arrived in almost a panic. I had been lying on my bed staring at the ceiling for quite some time. She jumped in through the window and closed the window behind her. When she turned to me, a look of fear was spread across her face.

I sat up and she rushed towards me. She held my head close to her chest; so close I could smell her coconut oil smell. Soon enough, her breathe became heavy and it gradually turned into sobs. She slumped down closer to the floor with every heave. I came off my bed to hold her close. She dug her face into my shirt.

Her sobs became small streams of tears and stopped soon afterwards. She looked up at me with her big green eyes. Her face still held its fear, but her glow had begun to come back.

“Mi amor,” she gushed, “I shouldn’t be here with you.”

I stared back in disbelief, “What do you mean?”

“Please, listen to me. I have told you over and over that I am a lowly whore. Why do you insist I keep coming back? Don’t you understand that why I can’t let you have your way with me? I could never be anything for you. Find another girl. One who is pure and doesn’t sell herself just for money. You go to the better school. Find that high class girl that will make you happy.”

She stood to leave but I held her arms.

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I love you, Miguel, but how can I let you go through with something like this? I’m not clean. I’m not pure. My lips are tainted with the kisses of dirty men. My pussy reeks of sweaty men. My breasts and butt have been grabbed by too many grimy hands.”

“Will you stop insulting yourself, Artemisa?” Now it was my anger that flared. “Don’t you understand that I don’t care about any of that? Do you think that if I had wanted to just fuck you like any other man that I wouldn’t have paid you and gone on my way? I love you because of who you are and not because of your body. I once loved a woman just because of the way she looked. That is not love. I see it now. She left and I cried but it’s all in the past. Other women will have her curves. You are something so different to me, mi negra. Can’t you understand that?”

I had confessed more than I had meant to. My mouth had continued to run on its own accord, as if my brain had told it to go on. It didn’t matter at this point. I had let her into my thoughts and now there was no way to reverse it.

“A whore shouldn’t be treated with such kindness. But you are waiting for nothing. By the time I am done with this job, I’ll have nothing left. My body will be a wasteland. My hair will be stringy. My face will be oily. My lips will be puckered by bitterness. My pussy will be dry. My breast will be saggy and my butt will have fallen from its high pedestal. I will be worth nothing some day.”

“Then stop working.”

“Do you think I want to work there? I have no choice! I need to go to school!”

“Then, live with me. You have three more years of school. I can’t let you continue doing this to yourself.”

“Your grandmother will never–“

“She has taken in strangers before. Don’t go to work tomorrow. Come here straight after school. I’ll wait for you with my window open.”