New Year's Eve

For New Year’s eve I was supposed to hang out with my friend Eddie in Miami. We were gonna go to some concert I can’t remember the name of the band, but Eddie fell ill. I decided instead, then, to spend the night at mama’s house. We bought broccoli an dtofu and I made a lovely stir fry that turned out too salty—not an omen for the year to come, I promised myself. We were thankful there was plenty of rice to soften the saltiness of the dish. I’d bought a bottle of red Chilean wine with the idea that after dinner sleep would overcome mama and I’d stay awake drinking and writing my newest play, Bitchez Wurk. Or maybe I’m calling it Hideaways. But I like the first title better. Anyway, I had imagined ringing in the New Year with my fingers at the keyboard and my eyelids heavy with wine.

Mama took me on.

We played Chinese checkers and drank glasses of merlot. Mama poured her third while I was still working on my first—she drank like a pimp in Vegas. I’d never seen her drunk and I told her so, I accused “You don’t know how to take your time with the wine because you’ve never been drunk.”

“What do YOU know?” She challenged, “I’ve been drunk. In Chicago with that bastard.” That’s what she calls her first husband. “He was screwing his whore and I was in the apartment drinking a whole bottle of whiskey by myself.”

I’ve never seen a picture never have known who this man was other than he was a borderline sociopath. If I could ever meet him I’d have to fight the urge to bite off his nuts. He ruined mama, and being from a culture where psychotherapy is frowned upon, she never recovered psychologically from the damage. He left her a paranoid, insecure cynic. He burned her innocence.

Mama, rightfully didn’t want to discuss him and I should’ve pressed her, but I was curious and the wine had taken away my modesty. I made her a deal: you can ask me a question and then answer me why it is you married him. Mama’s first question?

“Last time I was in New York you said that you let Rey sleep with other men.” That is NOT what mama and I discussed that day—I remember it clearly. I told her some people have open relationships, but mama inferred that I was talking about Rey and me. She was right. But still, I didn’t outright say it the way she was saying it. So I proposed, “You know what, let’s just keep playing. I think it’s my move.”