Love Bites

She walked away toward the six just as she had that morning. Being lost was made worse if you’d worn your very best; all day wind pressing her dress smooth against the front of her legs, wind also making it flare back to where her sombra was, hanging back like something following. When the six came she had her hand on her belly, that newly acquired habit. She wasn’t going to the clinic but kept alert when she passed Polk. If not then, some day she might be pregnant. And there was Tyler now, there Zang. She stayed on the camion while others came and went and she saw familiar places and remembered names of people and things they’d done together and sometimes she’d begin to doze against the window while looking out, flashes of everything, everything a blur. Where you gonna sleep? Dallas is vast—if he looks, and he may not, only chance will have us meet. Where will you sleep? There was Carmen with the limp in Duncanville who she’d helped to change a tire once after work; there was Luz the lavaplatos she used to lend money to—she lived in Irving now; there was Marta who was so close to the church and Jesus she couldn’t possibly say no. And her tio Martin. And Maricruz. Jimena. Lucero. There was Leticia and her husband, Rigo. They lived in Oak Cliff still and had always been kind.

There is a frequent use of Spanish in the work.