Cement
Jared Berberabe Lolo Boy steps out onto the concrete deck, feeling the scorching heat lash through his calloused feet. He barely registers it, and picks absentmindedly at an itch in his side. Beads of sweat roll down his back like little crawlers. His other hand comes up to shade his eyes. It takes a moment for him to see. Across the way, down past the bushes and trees, there stands a lone deer. Its thin muzzle and frame are frozen in time, and it regards him with dark eyes that seem to glow with a mix of confusion and pity. Lolo Boy knows this cannot be, because deer are stupid creatures who do not think about what the owners of their yards feel day by day, but he considers this anyway. He and the deer stare at each other. The sun beats wildly on them both. Lolo Boy feels sweat on his brow, then his cheeks. It’s everywhere. It falls over his eyebrows, spills over the lids, and a stinging brings him to a blink. In that instant, the deer is gone. Lolo Boy wipes his face with his arm. He sighs, looking away from where the deer stood and now at the concrete. Where he stands he can still see the faint impression of his foot from when the concrete was first poured. The sight drives a special chill through him, and he steps away. He turns around and walks slowly up the steps of the wooden back porch. The beams creak under his weight. He slides open the screen door and goes inside. The dining room fan is on, and Lolo Boy pauses in the doorway, feeling the rush of cool air flow over him. The reprieve takes him out of the heat, and he closes his eyes, one hand reaching out and resting on top of the kitchen counter. He can still smell that morning’s breakfast: pan de sal and spam. For a moment he is taken back to that fateful day, a clear summer morning, the bread fresh and the spam sizzling in the pan, no sign that anything would become undone. That moment is a happy memory, and Lolo Boy revels in it. “Close the damn door, you idiot! You’re letting out all the cold air!” Lolo Boy’s eyes snap open. In another life he might have 52
