Sunny spring Sundays
always brought the people out of their red brick apartments. The rows of
doorways popped open and screen doors kept the flies out. Opened windows let in
the fresh breeze and sunlight. The neighborhood knew to take advantage of it
because there were only a few days like this in El Paso’s spring before the
winds came.
El
Freddy walked down 3rd Street toward Stanton. He’d just left from La Bowie where he ate a
warm empanada. He’d passed on the cafecito even though he thought it always made
the piña of the empanda taste sweeter, but it was too warm for café.
As
he walked, he passed some vatos who were riding around the barrio on their
tricked out chrome blinding bikes. El Freddy nodded as he passed them and he
heard their laughter as one of them hit the curb and almost wiped out. El
Freddy didn’t laugh but just smiled. In the alley, he heard the sounds of
chavitos as they kicked a worn soccer ball shirtless and barefoot up and down
toward makeshift goal posts. He liked the sounds of his gente as he made his
way to his compa Beto’s house. Cumbias spilled out of the windows and mingled
with the vatos and chavitos laughter. La Señora Lupe was sweeping the sidewalk
in front of her door and she nodded at him as he passed. Her eyes were steely
and even though El Freddy hadn’t done anything wrong his gaze moved down toward
his feet.
Esa
Señora era bruja, he thought and walked faster.
El
Freddy found Beto outside, like everyone else, sitting in his dark green
Oldsmobile wiping down the dashboard with Armor All. He wiped around a black sticker with white
letters that said “Raza is Love”. Beto’s ruca had stuck it there one evening
after they’d smoked because she thought it was beautiful. He heard the easy notes of Malo’s Suavecito
flowing out of the car.
Laaaa-ah-ah, la-la, laaaa-ah-ah
Laaaa-ah-ah,
la-la, laaaa-ah-ah
That’s
what today was. Suavectio. El Freddy leaned against the side of the car and
shot the shit while Beto made sure the inside of his ride gleamed so bright it
hurt the eyes of anyone walking by.
Suavecito,
mi linda
Suavecito
The
feelin’ I have inside for you
Suavecito,
mi linda
They checked out the
chavas as they walked by and laughed when the girls rolled their eyes at them.
They were laughing so hard that El Freddy almost missed her. A mamacita he’d
seen around a few times but never talked to was getting out of an old Buick
across the street. He stared as she bent at the waist, arms against the window
frame, to talk to the driver. Her tight bell bottoms hugged all her curves and
he couldn’t stop staring at the jean clad corazoncito facing him.
“Ay,”
he said to Beto and jutted his chin in her direction.
Beto
turned to look, shook his hand fingers flapping freely and said, “Esa ruca,
man. Tiene un culo,” then bit his lip.
As
she straightened up, she turned to look behind her and saw El Freddy and Beto
staring. El Freddy froze, lips parted, but no sound came out. She smiled at
him, flipped her dark hair, and disappeared toward the corner tienda. The Buick
roared off.
Never, I never meet a girl like you in my
life
I never, no, no yeah
I never meet a girl like you in my
life
“Andale,” Beto
said toward the store.
El
Freddy looked at Beto, smoothed his hands on his faded Levi’s, and nodded.
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