“My mother’d like to topple the system, but my brother? He genuinely wants to fix it. For people like us. And he’s not perfect—he’s a little na?ve, he’s a people pleaser—but I also know we’re better off that it’s him in office versus some other crooked motherfucker.”
“Olga, you think you’re so cynical, but you could break into ‘The Greatest Love of All’ right about now.”
“My brother just brings that out in me!” Olga sang. “But, I am cynical. Because I understand all the problems, I just fundamentally don’t believe we can fix them. However, I fully support those on the bottom taking as much advantage of the top as humanly possible.”
Matteo began to sing.
How gratifying for once to know,
that those above will serve those down below!
Olga stared at him, quizzically. “I dig the sentiment, but don’t think I know that one.”
“Sondheim. Yeah…” He grew bashful. “Musical theater was big in my high school. I was on stage crew. Anyway…”
“You have a good voice,” she answered awkwardly.
“I’ll tell you what, though, girl.” He raised his eyebrows mischievously. “I’m an okay singer, but I’m a hell of a dancer.”
The bar was more crowded now, mostly old guys playing pool and dominos, a couple dancing a bachata on the dance floor. He called out to Sylvia to turn on the disco ball, and he headed to the jukebox. Bobby Caldwell started singing about opening your eyes to the possibilities that love could bring and Olga slammed down her rum so she could join him on the dance floor, as dizzy and bright as the electric disco ball that illuminated them.
JUNE 2001
June 15, 2001
Mijo,
My heart is swollen with pride as I write this. The world now knows what I’ve known since you were a little boy: my son is a natural-born revolutionary. A fighter for the people of Borikén.
I was skeptical when I heard you were running for public office. More than a few Brothers from the Lords went in this direction and I found that participating within the system forced them to compromise their values. Watered down their sense of right and wrong. But when I saw you being taken off of Vieques—our stolen land—with the news cameras following you, I realized I’d been wrong. Suddenly the media—and the world—had their eyes on Puerto Rico and its struggles. I recognized what you, bendito, had already figured out: your platform as an elected official will enable you to do more for the liberation of the Puerto Rican people than working as a community activist ever could.
Prieto, any time in prison can change someone. Can bring on a certain darkness. When the public adulation ends, these next few weeks and even months may feel hard for you. We’d see Brothers from the Lords go away and come back totally different men. Even your Papi, when they sent him to Rikers for the CUNY protests, was changed. It was only two weeks, but when people treat you as less than human for even a day, it can haunt you. So, you have to do your best to just keep going. Pa’lante. With your eyes on the next fight.
But also, when I think about it, one thing your Papi had, that my Brothers in the Lords had too, was somebody to come home to. Someone to be soft with when they took off the armor they needed to survive in the White Man’s world. While generally I worry that romance can be a distraction for activists, I think in your case, with the right person, it could be an advantage. It was easy to win your first election as a young bachelor, but as you age, un muchacho tan guapo como tú still out there in the field? Well, it makes people less excited and more skeptical.
For what my opinion is worth, mijo, it might be a good thing for you to take a wife. To have a good, strong woman by your side. Think of all you could do in the world if you didn’t have to do it all by yourself?
Pa’lante,
Mami
P.S. Speaking of relationships, please talk to your sister. This man will hobble her. She’ll listen to you.
AUGUST 2017
THE WHIP
The summer air was hot and thick, but Prieto rolled the windows down anyway, knowing that soon enough, he’d be driving fast, the velocity forcing the air to hit him in the face, again and again. The only thing that, after these meetings, he felt could cleanse his sense of shame. He removed his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled up his monogrammed shirtsleeves. As he started the engine, he turned on the stereo, steadily raising the volume. By the time he pulled out of the parking garage, the car vibrated from the bass line of his soundtrack, the aggressive hip-hop beat piercing the late-night quiet of the Upper East Side and numbing his mind. He cut a left north onto Park Avenue, heading further uptown, hoping to extend his thirty-minute drive into one of necessary length for him to compartmentalize and rationalize his latest act of cowardice. Hoping that by tomorrow he could get up and attempt, in small ways, to atone for the sins he had set into motion so many years before. Sometimes, when he needed to settle his nerves this way, he would drive around the entirety of Manhattan, finding himself grounded by the water and the flickering lights of the outer-borough landscape. Tonight, he worried the island might not be big enough to do the job.