know to call before any surprise visits. Mostly, they all have their regular days, their regular nights. Another dream. A field of flowers, blooms of every shape and hue. Such vivid colors, I felt as if I could taste them on the tip of my tongue. Trees with more blossoms than leaves, vines that twisted in ecstasies of color, the green earth swathed with streaks of red and yellow and white. I dreamt the sun was shining warmly on my body, my body naked and feathered and afloat on the breeze. Sweetness. The perfume-drenched air made me dizzy. Morning glories. I couldn’t resist the morning glories tumbling across the white fence. Summer sky blue with butter yellow centers. So sweet. My tongue unfurled, and I sipped. It spilled into me, light refracting inside me, tumbling and tumbling. They won’t stop talking now. They talk late into the night, talking and talking unless their mouths are otherwise occupied. Ramon: Lorena was so beautiful. She loved to travel. We lost count of how many trips we made before she got sick. The last trip was to Paris. She wanted to visit all her favorite places again, but she grew too weak and we came back to the U.S. in a panic. Jorge: My mom keeps asking me if I’ve kissed her neighbor’s daughter yet. I keep telling her it’s none of her business. Yesterday, she bought a four foot teddy bear and told me that she and my dad will pitch in with the down payment for a house if I make them grandparents in the next two years. I told them making grandchildren was no problem—it was finding a wife that was going to take a little more work. Mercedes: These are my two babies at Little League. Here’s Brian 6th birthday party. Michael when he was born. These are from last summer when we went camping. Yes, that’s my husband. Yes, the boys look just like him. Xian: My parents won’t have anything to do with me since I came out to them. My brother’s trying to talk to them, but they’re not having it. The last time I saw my mother she was weeping and saying this never would have happened if we’d stayed in China. Roel: A veces temo que ella se va encontrar a otro. Hace dos años que no nos vemos. Muy peligroso regresar. Ojala y tendre lo suficiente pa’ traerla el siguiente año. Jeremy: I was eight years old the first time I kissed a girl. Her name was Melissa—all freckles and red hair. We were on the playground by the swings. She burst out crying and ran away right after. They make me laugh, and they make me cry. I try to quiet them. But their words are always spilling out, even when they’re not there. The more I listen, the more a space inside me opens up. I woke tasting sweetness in my mouth, and Jorge was there, beside me. In sleep, he’d flung his leg over me. I wanted to reach for his arm and shake him awake. But I didn’t. They had been here. In this room. I’d heard them in my sleep. Heard them under the bed. I raised myself up on one elbow. In the night dark, I waited, perfectly still and perfectly silent. They would betray themselves. I strained for the sound of their humming wings. Nothing. Only my own breath, too loud in the ringing silence. And the sounds Jorge made. Not snoring, only a heavy inhale, exhale, inhale. I settled back into bed. He murmured my name and nuzzled my shoulder. Warm breath over my skin. I couldn’t help it, I turned towards him and wrapped my arm around him. He stirred awake. Through the long night, we moved together. I sipped at him, filling myself with his scent, the realness of him, his weight on me. The scent of him, sweet, not sweet, the scent stirred my memory, pink and purple blossoms. My lips sought out the center of him.
33 | Issue 41