Free Open Mic by Mitali Perkins Page B

back.
    For that,
    I’d be willing to stand.
    Just not next to my brother.

The day I talked to my sister started out as an ordinary Sunday. Papá began yelling at us to get ready two hours before we needed to leave for church. I knew Rosalinda would be staying home because I had heard her battle with Papá earlier that morning. Once a month, Papá reluctantly agreed to let Rosalinda stay home on account of
problemas de mujer.
    “Luis, let’s go!” I heard Papá yell all the way from his room. I covered my face with my pillow.
    “You all right?” Bernie was standing over my bed. He had a worried look on his face. He and I had shared a room since forever. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Is everything okay?”
    It was hard to keep things from Bernie. He could read something wrong a mile away. And when he asked how you were, it was difficult not to spill your guts out. But there was no way I could tell him what was bothering me that particular morning. Rosalinda was the only one that could help me.
    “I can’t go to church today,” I said.
    “Why?” Bernie asked. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
    “I just need to stay home — that’s all.”
    Bernie was thoughtful for a few seconds, and then he gave me this look as if he understood that my problem was more mental than physical.
    “Luis! Why aren’t you up yet? We’re late!” Papá’s large body seemed to fill up most of the room. He had on his shiny black suit with the usual fully starched white shirt and the blue tie with velvet stripes that our mother had picked for him when she was still alive. On Sundays Papá always reminded me of an undertaker. Papá placed his hands on his hips, and that was the signal for me to get up. I never argued with Papá once he put his hands on his hips.
    “Papá,” Bernie said softly but firmly, “I think Luis should stay home.”
    “What’s the matter with him?”
    I glanced at Bernie and then at Papá. “I’m okay,” I said.
    “He’s sick,” Bernie said. “He was up all night coughing.” I could have sworn I saw Bernie wink at me.
    “I didn’t hear nothing,” Papá said authoritatively. “Besides, since when does a little cough keep a real man from doing what he needs to do?”
    I glanced up at Papá’s face in the hope that he might be joking. But no, when it came to pronouncements on what real men do, Papá never joked.
    Bernie was not giving up. I don’t know how he did it, but he had mysteriously figured out how important it was for me to stay home that morning. “If Mamá was here, she’d make him stay.” I was standing up now. Bernie reached out and placed the palm of his hand on my forehead. “Go ahead and touch him,” he said to Papá. “He’s burning up.”
    Papá lifted his hand slightly as if to touch me and then changed his mind. “Both of you guys are a bunch of girls, I swear.” Papá waved his hand in disgust. “Go ahead and stay, if you’re so sick.”
    We waited until Papá was out of the room. “Thanks,” I said to Bernie.
    “Enjoy,” he responded.
    My sister’s bedroom shared a wall with my room. Her door was always closed when she was in there. I knocked, timidly.
    “I’m not going.” Her voice was unwavering.
    “It’s me. Papá and Bernie left already.”
    “Please be so kind as to read the sign on the door.”
    A Do Not Enter sign hung in the middle of her white door. Below the yellow letters, Rosalinda had scribbled with a red marker: SPECIALLY LITTLE GEEKS . That was a reference to me, her geeky little brother. Spelling was not Rosalinda’s strength.
    “Are you decent?” I asked.
    “No. I’m indecent.”
    “I need to ask you something. It’s really important.” There was silence on the other side. I knew that was as close to “Come in” as I was going to get. I turned the knob and opened the door slowly. She was lying horizontally on her bed reading. The novels Rosalinda read usually had shirtless men embracing women with glassy eyes and