The Park

Samantha had grown up so far looking at central park west out her bedroom window. She spent a lot of time in the park with her parents during the day on weekends. They even took out their cross country skis (normally only used upstate) after the rare large snow storm. Once the sun began to set, the park belonged to others.


As a fourteen year old, Samantha could tell her parents that she was going out for a short walk after dinner. She had just finished eighth grade and it was still light out at seven thirty so maybe the park hadn't yet been handed over.

There were indeed families, after work business people, and joggers. They were thinning out and heading toward the cement while Samantha was headed wrongly toward the trees and bushes. A group of teenage boys sat on a rock and looked at Samantha as she walked passed them with stiff feeling legs. She kept her head pointed down at the cell phone she held in her hand. When nothing happened she look up from her phone only to see Sylvia Rodriguez from school.

“What are you doing here,” Sylvia gathered her waist length thick shiny black hair over one shoulder.

“I'm talking a walk.”

“This is not the place for a walk.”

“Why not. It's still light.”

“Getting darker. Did you see those boys over by the rock.”

“Yes.”

“My older brother used to hang with them before he got rehabilitated.”

“You'd better come with me.”

“What are you doing here?” Samantha began following the girl she had almost never spoken to at school.

“Collecting bottles. See my bag. I'm collecting bottles for a trip to Spain to see my mother.”

“That sounds like a lot of bottles.”

“I also babysit and clean houses.” This sounded like a lot of work to Samantha who had only helped with the after dinner dishes. She also knew that Sylvia was probably a scholarship student who had to keep her grades up.

“Why is your mother in Spain?”

“D-i-v-o-r-c-e. My father is from here, Puerto Rico originally, and he got custody. Mom went back to her family in Barcelona, Spain.”

“You're lucky that you get to go to Spain,” said Samantha whose parents were not divorced. “Where are we going?”

“To my house on East 100th.”

Dusk fell as Samantha and Sylvia walked to the opposite end of the park. There were more gangs of solemn kids waiting for something, maybe complete darkness. Samantha decided she would call her parents once they arrived at Sylvia's.

The girls walked up a staircase in the back of a store and entered a small living room with a fan. There were two men sitting on a worn sofa in front of a television wearing undershirts tucked into shorts. The older one held a beer. Sylvia's brother drank a soda even though he may have been old enough to drink a beer. Samantha thought about her parents at home in a more spacious air conditioned living room not in sweaty undershirts.

“Who's your friend,” said the beer holding man.

“Her name is Samantha. We're in the same grade.”

“There's Arroz con Dulse in the kitchen.”

Sylvia handed Samantha a bowl of what looked like rice pudding.

“This is so good. I don't usually even like rice pudding.”

“It's Arroz con Dulse the most popular dessert in Puerto Rico. It's made with coconut milk.”

“Where do you get it?”

“My father was a restaurant chef until he bought the bodega downstairs so he could be with us more. Now he's getting famous enough for his homemade desserts to maybe by an air conditioner. People from your neighborhood come to his bodega.”

“How do you know my neighborhood?”

“You were on the west side of the park near our school.”

“You're right. I only have a short walk to school.”

Sylvia's father walked into the small kitchen, dropped his empty bottle against more glass in Sylvia's returns box, took another beer from the refrigerator and looked directly at Samantha.

“How do you like the pudding?”

“It's the best pudding I've ever had. I don't usually like pudding and I love this pudding.”

Sylvia's father smiled. “Come back on Sunday afternoon. I'll make a Puerto Rican lunch for you girls and teach you how to make Arroz con Dulse for your parents.” He looked down as his voice became soft. “You won't believe how easy it is.”

Sylvia's father walked back to the television.

“Does your father miss your mother?”

“He used to seem really sad. Now his voice just changes a little when he says certain words like parents.”

“I noticed.”

“I know. How are you going to get home?”

“I don't know. I have to call my parents. Maybe they'll come get me in a cab.”

“Tell them we'll take you home.”

“Who?”

“Me and my brother will go out to the street with you, help you wave down the right cab, and collect the money from your parents when we get there.”

Samantha put her parents at ease when she said a classmate's family would see her home.

Sylvia's brother, who had once used his accurate gaze and sinewy muscles to pitch baseballs for his high school team, looked up from the TV at Sylvia and Samantha.

“Hey, what's goin' on?” he asked seriously.

“We're taking Samantha home so put down the 7-Up.”

“OK little sister.”

“She's the boss,” he changed his serious expression to smile at Samantha. He had chocolate eyes with a hazelnut rim.

Outside Samantha learned from Sylvia's brother that he fell in love when he was a senior in high school. His attractive girlfriend convinced him that cocaine and eventually crack, would make him a better baseball player with energy to spare.

“She was just a beginner user herself. It was great for awhile then we both crashed. Five colleges offered to pay for transportation and a hotel for me and my parents just so they could convince me to play baseball at their school and be a student with a full scholarship.” He looked down and massaged his forehead. “Instead, I went and lived with Ma in Barcelona for awhile. I went to a rehab center there but it was really Ma and my other relatives that cured me. You should go sometime.”

“Where.”

“Barcelona. Except Ma worried about me too much because of everything that happened. My grandfather convinced me to go on long walks with him everyday while he described the buildings designed by him and other architects. Sometimes we rode our bikes down to the beach. I think Ma and Grandpa were trying to wear me out during the day so all I wanted to do after evening meetings at the rehab is come home, sometimes have Churros with the family and go to bed.”

“Then, I came back here to community college. I met this girl in the learning center who said she was majoring in business. I told her I lived in Spain for awhile and my mother was still in Spain. She was cute with light brown hair that went up in a little flip,” he took a handful of Samantha's hair and flipped in up from her shoulder.

“Hey,” said Sylvia and pushed him.

“I liked her until she asked me where Spain is. She asked if Spain is in France. I couldn't believe it. Is Spain in France?”

Sylvia's brother's now looked dark in the street light. Samantha realized she had paused before replying, “No,” and hoped that he knew she was certain Spain was its own country in Europe and not in France.

Sylvia and her brother did not wave down certain types of cars with their lights on.

“We could have called a car service.”

“We know what we're doing Samantha,” Sylvia sounded enthusiastic. “You have to know which cars to let pass you buy.”

“Do you think the right car will come soon?”

Sylvia's brother put his arm up to stop a yellow cab. They piled into the back seat.

“OK. So what's the capital of Spain?” he said continuing the conversation.

“Madrid?”

“Hey you're friend is smart. Ever been there?”

“To Barcelona or Madrid?”

“Either.”

“I've been to Puerto Rico.”

“That settles it,” said Sylvia. “You're coming this Sunday for lunch.”

“Come upstairs with me. I'll introduce you both to my parents. When they find out about your Dad's desserts, they'll want to go to his bodega. I know they will.”

Samantha's parents hid their surprise and invited Samantha's friends in to sit on comfy blue patterned furniture while drinking iced tea from a bamboo tray. Samantha pictured the Spanish Churros being served with the tea. They turned off the air conditioner because there was a “lovely breeze” coming in from the park. Samantha could smell summer air in the city and wondered if there were many parks in Barcelona, Spain.