Red & Black

Page 1

Red & Black | C@V3M3N

I was folding a black and red beaded necklace in half, sliding it up and down my wrist. I sat sprawled out across the armchair. Feet on the arms, torso tucked at the vertex of the other arm, back and seat. The life of a small person. I was admiring the alternating colors. The beads were the same color as my shirt that said ‘100% Genuine Kizomba Addict’. The same color as the bag that matched my shirt that I had given to Tony. The same color as the huge fan other dancers felt at liberty to take without asking when I went out. When I bought the fan, I asked them to put my last name on it. The cashier asked me if it was Carter like the president. No, es Carter como el rapero, Jay-Z. Ay si, she replied. El esposo de Beyoncé. Así mismo. Tony, my kizomba teacher, was seated in the chair in front of me, next to the vanity that I loved sitting in and that overwhelmed me. I stared at the beads. I asked Tony ¿como practicante, tu crees que sería una falta de respeto llevar el collar si no formo parte de la religión?


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