The Road Monologue
After taking Amabelle’s face in my scarred hands, I brushed my lips against hers, gave her a reassuring smile as our pupils met, and then I raced to find Mimi. The evening dampness cooled the skin on my scarred back, as I crisscrossed the stream and Don Carlos’ mill to reach the cement non-vwayagé home of Doña Eva. Hurrying past the spacious yards, crowded with fruit trees--laden with mangoes and avocados--to provide cover from the burning heat of the sun and to fill their bellies with the sensuous mangoes and creamy avocados. Usually thronged with people living their lives, an undercurrent of despair permeated the area: as though the entire neighborhood sensed that a violent storm approached. As I swiftly sprinted up the hill, I spotted Beatriz striding down the road: her long braid swung back
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Suddenly, we heard Senor Pico yelling, “We are going to take you to the border, now get in that truck!”
Mimi and the rest of us were pushed into a line to enter a different truck. Before climbing up, a soldier with a giant mustache ordered us to pronounce parsley. Every person who answered was unable to trill the “r” in perejil, so they were pushed, pulled, and prodded aboard. When it came my turn, it was as if I could taste the bitterness of it, as I hissed “pesi” at Senor Pico.
Dr. Javier started protesting the treatment of the people and angrily Senor Pico shouted, “You want to help Haitians so badly, you get on the fortaleza with the peasants!” His high shoulders drooping, Javier was ruthlessly shoved aboard the truck, as the pitiful crying of the priests reverberated through the forest. Mimi was in front of me, and she stumbled and fell back against me, while the doctor reached down and helped her up. Where had my strong and angry sister gone? The girl next to me quivered in fear and fury like a wounded
Suddenly, we heard Senor Pico yelling, “We are going to take you to the border, now get in that truck!”
Mimi and the rest of us were pushed into a line to enter a different truck. Before climbing up, a soldier with a giant mustache ordered us to pronounce parsley. Every person who answered was unable to trill the “r” in perejil, so they were pushed, pulled, and prodded aboard. When it came my turn, it was as if I could taste the bitterness of it, as I hissed “pesi” at Senor Pico.
Dr. Javier started protesting the treatment of the people and angrily Senor Pico shouted, “You want to help Haitians so badly, you get on the fortaleza with the peasants!” His high shoulders drooping, Javier was ruthlessly shoved aboard the truck, as the pitiful crying of the priests reverberated through the forest. Mimi was in front of me, and she stumbled and fell back against me, while the doctor reached down and helped her up. Where had my strong and angry sister gone? The girl next to me quivered in fear and fury like a wounded