Inspired by Connected by Vincent Figliola
Diana Holguin Balogh
Even door beats – knuckles on wood, knuckles on wood. Each knock punches her gut blows. She clenches her throat. Silence, then unseen thunderous raps sound again. Edge of a thin curtain eases away. A sliver of sunlight invades the dark room, Outside predatory intent illuminates. Chota cops, Las Cruces PD, policia, damn be us… “Mr. Salamon Ramirez, are you in there?” Shattering, icicle thoughts empale her racing mind. “Have a warrant here for your arrest.” She shakes her father. Eyes shift panic… she to her father, her father to her. Silent screaming moments pass like the crackling of heaven. Like the quake of hell. They’re here for Apá, her protector, her end all. With a slow side nod, Apá tightens his face. … Half asleep, uncle’s weight had smothered her. Foul early morning breath reeked above her in breathy gasps. No words were spoken, for that was the other uncle. A searing pain knifed up into her. Slimy, oily, mucous dotted and entered her virginity. 4 | EKPHRASIS 2022
She grunted helpless pleas. When the door broke open to a bearlike figure, her apá stood like Absalom to Tamar. Tío Severo had had his dirty way with her. Apá, Salamon Ramirez, had his way with him. Bloodied from bald head to flaccid head, Severo’s filthy act met its consequence. And after the red light raced away, nothing was left but shame. In shame hid their unspoken memory. In vengeance, the shameful secret lay buried. … “Apá, don’t answer.” Salamon’s pressed jaw strain a dooming surrender. Door opens. White plastic ties snap a pinching rear-stack cuff. “Mr. Severo Candelaria died this morning at Three Crosses.” “You’re charged with his death.” “You have the right to remain silent.” “What you say can be used against you.” “And you have a right to an attorney.” In a jerk, he’s forced out the door. She rushes to hug him one last time. Grasping loose khaki would not stop time. Head down over hers, they became one alliance. “Apa,” Her tears wet his chest. “Vaya con Dios.” u
