The Little Girl and the American Man

A short story about a Mexican girl flying to Gilbert, Arizona because she was moved away from her house because her mother is a hoarder. Read more on how this girl manages to find new hope.

Hola, mi nombre Abril. I was born in Puebla, Mexico population 1,539,819. Si, make it 1,539,818. Abril Mora will be moving to Gilbert, Arizona. My English is pretty good, or how I say bueno back home. Oh, I don’t want to call Puebla “back home”. Let me start from the beginning, mi amigo.

My Mamá is an acaparador, Americans call it a ugh, what’s it called, hoarder. My house was filled with basura, garbage. My neighbor, Brisa Herrera reported my Mamá to the C.P.S. (Child Protection Service). They came and took me away. Took me away from Mamá! I saw the tears drip down her cheek. She wouldn’t stop crying because that mal mujer se me lejos de Mamá! Forgive me, I’ll translate.

Evil woman took me away from Mama!  

They sent me on this airplane to Gilbert, Arizona. We’re started vuelo, flying a few minutes ago. We past all of the cities I amor, love. Like Naucalpan de Juárez, oh, my tío and tía live there. And Toluca! I used to live there. But then Puebla was cheaper, my Mamá doesn’t make much dinero, money.

Arizona seems to be a huge desert in my naked eye, my desnudo ojo. Mamá says, “Yo amor mi bebé niña, Arizona es más de qué. Ser bueno.” Oh, forgive me mi amigo; I forget that you are American. I will translate for you.

I love my baby girl, Arizona is more than that. Be good. Said Mamá.

I have one question though, why did they send me so far from Mamá? I don’t entender, understand! Another thing that makes me wonder, where will I live? I don’t have any tíos y tías, abuelas o abuelos that live there! Oh yes, sorry mi amigo. You Americans call tíos, uncles. Ha �" ha! What a silly word! Tías are aunts, wait �" isn’t that what you call a hormiga?! The little black bugs! Ha �" ha! Silly words. Abuelas means grandmother and abuelos means grandfather.

Oh, too much confusion. I must rest.

 

Returning from earlier, the sky is close to nightfall. Velvets are so close to my head, and we are flying through the clouds. I’m sitting next to a stranger, he’s not from Puebla. Maybe he was a visitor. But he is a disgusting looking man; he has dribbles of saliva on his spikey, raven �" black beard. His ashen skin looks so fleshy, his indigo veins are sticking out it frightens me.

Just as I thought that, he snorted and stuck up as fast as a fly.

“Oh, how long was I asleep?” He asked me looking surprised; I wasn’t surprised he was asleep for four hours.

“Umm, a while,” I was so nervous I didn’t want to give him the direct answer I knew.

“Oh yeah? How much is a while for you little girl?” Then he let out a horse laugh, and stuck a cigarette in his slimy mouth. I let out a groan in disgust, and then a vuelo pendiente, or how you say, flight attendant rushed over to us.

Just as he was attempting to light it with the blazing flame, she grasped the cigarette and oddly snapped her fingers and pointed sharply at him like a dog.

“Oh mi dios! No! Señor! Este línea aérea hace no permitir cigarrillos!”

“Oh my god! No! Sir! This airline does not allow cigarettes!”

She yelled, astonished by her own actions. The man turned at me then turned at the women, he obviously doesn’t speak Español.

“Uhh… me… no…Spanish.” She had puzzled eyebrows; they scrunched up high and tight. So, I decided to translate for her after the moment of silence.

“Señora, él hace no hablar Español.”

“Ma’am, he does not speak Spanish.”

She understood easily, but the rude man did not. Ugh, what a tonto, fool. She started walking away then realized why she was there in the first place, so she looked over her shoulder…

“Hacer no dejar lo suceder otra vez.”  She addressed, glaring with her bitter words.

“Do not let it happen again.”

I glanced at the tonto of a man, he was looked back, but then I suddenly turned to look out the window. It was now at dusk, I felt like I could touch the twinkling stars of Tierra, Earth. Like in my favorite story book! La Niño Que Rodé Un Estrella.

The Boy Who Rode A Star.

It was written by my great, great Abuelas, or how you say, Grandmother. As I was gazing in the stars, remembering the peachy smell of Puebla, my familia, family �" the reeking breath of the pale American sunk into my nostrils.

“No wonder. You’re from Puebla! You foolish Mexican girl!”

“Ah, sí? ¡Necio! Al menos yo no estaba fumando en un avión! Espero que no viven en Gilbert, Arizona. Porque no quiero volver a verte.” I said so, but I mumbled it under my silky breath.                                 “Oh yeah? Fool! At least I was not smoking on a plane! I hope you do not live in Gilbert, Arizona. I do not want to see you again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope you at least know one Spanish word! If you were visiting Puebla, I would expect so.” I informed, getting off the subject.

“Veo que es como va a ser. Bueno, en realidad yo sé un poco de español.” He said in his repulsive breath touching my face, saying so if he thought as if he was at least bit of charming!

“I see what it is going to be like. Well, actually I know a little Spanish.”

“You speak Español?” My mind was overwhelming with questions! Small questions, big questions. But they all connected to one idea �" the idea of asking. He nodded slightly, closing his beady little eyes.

“Si,” he replied sluggish as if I didn’t know Español!

“Ugh. Then why did you pretend you didn’t know Español when you were talking to the vuelo pendiente? Err, I mean flight attendant.” Sorry mi amigo, I cannot stop throwing some Español in my replies!

“I did not want a little girl talking to me in Spanish!” He giggled but in a kind way, “I’m still a little iffy on it.”

I understood, but after over �" thinking it in my sea of thought, I finally came out and said so.

“Why are you going to Arizona?” I inquired, but he gave a worried look and moved on.

“Do you know what Arizona means in Spanish, little girl?”

“No, what?”

“I have no idea!” He began to laugh, and this time his laugh didn’t seem like a horse laugh, and he didn’t seem… foul. I joined him with the river of laughter flowing into our ears and out our mouth.

And all around me I finally saw the big picture. I saw a valley of sunflowers; I was in my favorite blanco dress Mamá made for me. I was twirling in the blistering sunlight. Giving a little hope in the scene. Mamá was there, making her famous pasta to the side.

It wasn’t that funny, but we laughed because we finally understood each other.

“You know what American man?”

“Yes, little girl?” He asked in return, looking at the people next to us.

“You’re not a tonto.”

“Well, that’s good! You’re not a tonto either.”

We laughed a little more, giving a little humor to the situation.

“Alright, I’m going to Arizona because I am going home.”

I was glad he had told me, and I nodded in understanding.

“Well, I wouldn’t call a little shack house with dirt floors a home! But, there’s a lot of hope in that puny house. You know?”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you have a real house?”

“Ha �" ha! You make me laugh to cries little girl. I work for the C. P. S, you know, the Child Protection Service. I just started because I am terrible with kids… and people. I forced myself to go and stay until I have regained my manners.”

“Whew, not working out so well is it little girl?” He continued, with a little smile under his chalky cheeks, “I have been thinking of adopting a child from the Foster Homes. Children who have been taking from hoarders, or as you say acaparador,” he was still talking, but I added a little giggle, “Those kinds of children need a parent the most, I believe. But most people say otherwise.”

I did not know children like me were sent to Foster Homes! This is great! Bueno! Fantástico! I was overwhelmed with holding my key inside my heart, that I was a child of a hoarder so I am not telling him… oh; well you only live once so I’ll give it a shot…

“I’m a child from a hoarder!” I blurted, he was astonished but seemed so sad.

“You are?” I nodded, smiling but still a little surprised on the situation.

“That’s so sad, I’m terribly sorry. I hope you find a great parent for you.” I gave him a look that screamed, “And?”

“Uhh… have a good life? Little girl, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You’re looking for a child, right?” I spoke quietly, and let my letters fill his eyes so they will close and tell him the answer to the solution. It took him a few minutes for his brain to switch to the “answering” section.

He didn’t say a word for twelve minutes. He just had a little bit of hope in his eyes.

“Yes. You’re looking for a parent, right?” We didn’t smile, or look at each other. And when I said:

“Yes,” we glanced at each other and saw in our eyes… a little bit of hope. A spark. It wasn’t a twinkle like the star the boy rides in La Niño Que Rodé Un Estrella, but I knew that after a period of timing �" it would get there.

I now see the picture. The picture of hope.

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[Brittany]

Hope you like my short story! I wrote this in about 20 minutes so it's not very good(: