ELECTRICITY ON YOUR BED by Veronica Suarez
(Words to know: Dejalo- Leave it alone, mi duele- it hurts, tío- uncle, bruja- witch)
Dejalo friend, I’ve got something sour to tell you. It’s about knowing sir, you’ve got to know when to shut your mouth, just clamp it tight and bury the key, you know how they say it. Because you see, people think, they really believe that knowledge is something golden, and when the time comes to understand that knowledge, they act all like you be the one to betray them, that you just full of malevolent intentions. Enough, sir, I tell you some things are best left silent, especially when dealing with Soledad and her man.
You see sir, it was the big six month anniversary and for a woman, half of anything really means something. Take it, half off an item of purchase, our women know they don’t need it, but at half off, it’s a steal. Take it in the boyfriend-girlfriend formula, half a year is equivalent to marriage and a break-up any time after this date only results in divorce with the boyfriend-girlfriend yelling hatred on each other for eternity. But there wasn’t going to be any break-up between Soledad and her man because they were in L-O-V-E, love.
I was the witness, using born-with-a-spoon-in-your-mouth-silver nail polish on my lower digits. Soledad was summoning a hurricane in the closet. There were clothes being ripped out you see: it was raining skirts, blouses, pants, and dresses in every color of the light spectrum and every kind of silk, cotton, nylon, hemp, polyester, satin, canvas, vinyl, spandex, and suede before my eyes. There was a flash flood forming on the floor and it halted when Soledad turned to say, “What am I gonna wear, huh, what am I gonna wear!” I could only shake my head. She wasn’t someone to answer with advice.
What she did though, was stand in the closet doorframe, looking like something of a young Elizabeth Taylor, miss drama incarnate. Her towel-wrapped head hung in her chest and Soledad looks at me for a minute. You know, it’s something to see her skin before all the glamour is painted on until she looks ready for kabuki. Without it, her skin and expression are something of a calm glowing from a morning reflection. Once all the glamour is on though, I can imagine easy Soledad dancing on the stage, knife in hand and ready to perform the tragic double suicide with her lover. Only, there wasn’t going to be no theatrics at the moment. Remember friend, she was desperate for an outfit.
I couldn’t conceive a color or clothing combination she hadn’t already used. Soledad had worn primary, matching, she had worn shorts and tees and slacks and skirts and blouses, button down, military, folksy, bohemian, you name it, but it had all been done before. It was no wonder she turned to me to find a costume that her man had never seen. Still, I had to tell her because I couldn’t hide a thought from her.
“He’s breaking up with you”
Friend, those were shameful words I said to her. Blunt speech is not meant for the impulsive. But then, neither are subtle words. It’s plain difficult to speak with the impulsive. And quickly, quickly, Soledad became something of a bruja because she was yelling at me with her teeth bared like a jaguar ready to tear me to bloody parts.
“What did you say, huh Caro. You say that again.”
“He’s gonna break up with you”
It’s the truth friend. Her man was gonna break up with her. Anybody and their tío could see that he was gonna break up with her tonight. She was a blind fool not to see the obvious. The way she stood glaring at me with her fist shaking too, it reminded me of old Oedipus the King. He was ready to kill poor blind Tiresias, and the prophet couldn’t speak nothing but the truth. So here we were now, the king and the prophet, all riled up over that sad faced, gum chewing man she called Raymond.
He was gonna break up with her. You’ll understand it soon, let me tell you. He had his dark hair always combed back, hard with gel so that it shined. He wouldn’t even let her touch it. I’d say his hair was the reason he was going to break up with her. It’s funny to think that at least, but insignificant parts of the body like Raymond’s hair add up to the problems in a relationship. He was too concerned with the stiffness of his hair to want to keep my sister happy, so he was going to cut her off.
Another thing you’ll see is that she was too good for him. It was a picture to see him at our door when he would come for Soledad. She was always made up, with her clothes clean, glamour applied to perfection, her lips red as strawberries and tasting like them too. Her clothes were always nice, it didn’t mean a thing to her the addresses they’d hit, make it the bars, the dance halls, the park, or a Wendy’s, she was costumed to turn heads. You’d see him though, with that wrinkled polo and jeans smelling of last week. What the pair they’d make in a public scene- Soledad turning heads and Raymond making the heads flinch in repugnant jerks.
You got to hear this, the worst part of their history takes us back to hair. Now Soledad has difficult hair. Of our family, her hair grew in these tight spring curls-I guess it came from our grandpa because Daddy says he had curly hair too. But to continue sir, when she was first going around with Raymond, he discovered it difficult to run his fingers through her curls, and says to her,
“Baby baby, why don’t you straighten your hair some? You’ll see how nice this can feel”
So my sister goes and purchases a world-class straightener, all from the criticism of her gent’s fingers. It’s any wonder she didn’t ask him to refrain from dousing his hair in gel, but then she was smart enough not to run her fingers through his hair. If she did, they’d likely get cut up from his glass hard locks.
Still, enough of the boyfriend, you wanted to know about this, my pain, my injury, mi duele. Let me tell you what Soledad did.
She was fuming, sir, smoke exiting her ears and mouth, and I swear her eyes, I thought she was a demon shaking to drag me to the fiery place below. So I left my painted lower digits and told her how it was. Her straightener was heating on the bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if it caused a fire one of these days. Only, it wouldn’t because the function of her and Raymond would not equal long lasting.
“Raymond’s gonna break up with you alright. You’re too good for him, and he knows it. Just look at you. Take a look at all these clothes you got here and everything you do for him. It’s not a balanced relationship and anyone can tell he’s not gonna -
“I don’t know why in hell you’re telling me this now” she says, whipping me with her tone. I tell you friend, she was gonna get downright ugly soon.
“Caro, I just want to have a good time and you can’t even be happy for me. Ray’s been good to me, he respects me and he is always nice to Mama and Daddy, but no one’s ever good enough to you. Just because you’re not happy doesn’t mean you’ve got push it onto me.”
She was crying, lord, there were rivers on her cheeks. I couldn’t tell you, with her cheeks streaming like they were, if she believed me, but then Soledad was a stubborn girl. And that straightener was still heating on her bed. I ask you friend, what kind of girl is it that would change her hair for a man, the hair she loved to wash and brush and arrange because it was a natural beautiful part of her. Why would she want to iron her hair for that man.
“Don’t go crying on me Soledad. I didn’t mean anything for you to cry. Maybe I am too picky on the selections you make. All I was trying to say is you always put so much effort to look good for him, and he comes looking like he just woke up. I mean, take a look here, you’ve got all that electricity on your bed just so he can run his fingers through your hair and he won’t even try to look good for you. Whatever, whatever, it’s your business.”
“That’s right. It is my business.”
“He’s still gonna break up with you.”
She hit me! Do you believe it sir. She put everything down and hit me square in the jaw I could not breath so. I just watched her finish getting ready, neither of us speaking until Raymond picked her up for their date. When they were gone, I took a relaxer and iced my beating jaw to the screen of black and whites on the Turner Classic movies. I must have gone to a doze though, because the next thing I knew, the door slammed and Soledad was making rivers again on her cheeks, only this time they ran thick with glamour.
On the screen, Wagner’s violins screeched in an overture, warning me to stay put, stay put at the couch, but I’ve got to go see Soledad because of our ties as sisters, you won’t understand. It was like Tiresias and Oedipus all over again, and the prophet is always right, but sir, it didn’t feel so good to win. Nothing in the books ever said anything about the prophet getting wacked. Maybe it’s that the prophet should hold his mouth from the beginning so nobody learns he can see what’s creeping up around the corner.
And Soledad, our king, my sister, she’ll live like we always live, even after her heartstrings have been twisted and torn up like dry bits of grass, even after all the cruelties of the heart, she’ll live and move on. But believe me sir, our women, they know too well how to recover. You wait, you’ll see, Soledad will start turning heads again, she’ll make any man dread the day he thinks of leaving her. She’ll get him too, you start watching now, look for the fist stains she’ll leave on a man when he thinks it. Because she hit blood, her own kind, so she’s not gonna be afraid to combat the man who dares to run his fingers through her hair.
//ww
Dejalo friend, I’ve got something sour to tell you. It’s about knowing sir, you’ve got to know when to shut your mouth, just clamp it tight and bury the key, you know how they say it. Because you see, people think, they really believe that knowledge is something golden, and when the time comes to understand that knowledge, they act all like you be the one to betray them, that you just full of malevolent intentions. Enough, sir, I tell you some things are best left silent, especially when dealing with Soledad and her man.
You see sir, it was the big six month anniversary and for a woman, half of anything really means something. Take it, half off an item of purchase, our women know they don’t need it, but at half off, it’s a steal. Take it in the boyfriend-girlfriend formula, half a year is equivalent to marriage and a break-up any time after this date only results in divorce with the boyfriend-girlfriend yelling hatred on each other for eternity. But there wasn’t going to be any break-up between Soledad and her man because they were in L-O-V-E, love.
I was the witness, using born-with-a-spoon-in-your-mouth-silver nail polish on my lower digits. Soledad was summoning a hurricane in the closet. There were clothes being ripped out you see: it was raining skirts, blouses, pants, and dresses in every color of the light spectrum and every kind of silk, cotton, nylon, hemp, polyester, satin, canvas, vinyl, spandex, and suede before my eyes. There was a flash flood forming on the floor and it halted when Soledad turned to say, “What am I gonna wear, huh, what am I gonna wear!” I could only shake my head. She wasn’t someone to answer with advice.
What she did though, was stand in the closet doorframe, looking like something of a young Elizabeth Taylor, miss drama incarnate. Her towel-wrapped head hung in her chest and Soledad looks at me for a minute. You know, it’s something to see her skin before all the glamour is painted on until she looks ready for kabuki. Without it, her skin and expression are something of a calm glowing from a morning reflection. Once all the glamour is on though, I can imagine easy Soledad dancing on the stage, knife in hand and ready to perform the tragic double suicide with her lover. Only, there wasn’t going to be no theatrics at the moment. Remember friend, she was desperate for an outfit.
I couldn’t conceive a color or clothing combination she hadn’t already used. Soledad had worn primary, matching, she had worn shorts and tees and slacks and skirts and blouses, button down, military, folksy, bohemian, you name it, but it had all been done before. It was no wonder she turned to me to find a costume that her man had never seen. Still, I had to tell her because I couldn’t hide a thought from her.
“He’s breaking up with you”
Friend, those were shameful words I said to her. Blunt speech is not meant for the impulsive. But then, neither are subtle words. It’s plain difficult to speak with the impulsive. And quickly, quickly, Soledad became something of a bruja because she was yelling at me with her teeth bared like a jaguar ready to tear me to bloody parts.
“What did you say, huh Caro. You say that again.”
“He’s gonna break up with you”
It’s the truth friend. Her man was gonna break up with her. Anybody and their tío could see that he was gonna break up with her tonight. She was a blind fool not to see the obvious. The way she stood glaring at me with her fist shaking too, it reminded me of old Oedipus the King. He was ready to kill poor blind Tiresias, and the prophet couldn’t speak nothing but the truth. So here we were now, the king and the prophet, all riled up over that sad faced, gum chewing man she called Raymond.
He was gonna break up with her. You’ll understand it soon, let me tell you. He had his dark hair always combed back, hard with gel so that it shined. He wouldn’t even let her touch it. I’d say his hair was the reason he was going to break up with her. It’s funny to think that at least, but insignificant parts of the body like Raymond’s hair add up to the problems in a relationship. He was too concerned with the stiffness of his hair to want to keep my sister happy, so he was going to cut her off.
Another thing you’ll see is that she was too good for him. It was a picture to see him at our door when he would come for Soledad. She was always made up, with her clothes clean, glamour applied to perfection, her lips red as strawberries and tasting like them too. Her clothes were always nice, it didn’t mean a thing to her the addresses they’d hit, make it the bars, the dance halls, the park, or a Wendy’s, she was costumed to turn heads. You’d see him though, with that wrinkled polo and jeans smelling of last week. What the pair they’d make in a public scene- Soledad turning heads and Raymond making the heads flinch in repugnant jerks.
You got to hear this, the worst part of their history takes us back to hair. Now Soledad has difficult hair. Of our family, her hair grew in these tight spring curls-I guess it came from our grandpa because Daddy says he had curly hair too. But to continue sir, when she was first going around with Raymond, he discovered it difficult to run his fingers through her curls, and says to her,
“Baby baby, why don’t you straighten your hair some? You’ll see how nice this can feel”
So my sister goes and purchases a world-class straightener, all from the criticism of her gent’s fingers. It’s any wonder she didn’t ask him to refrain from dousing his hair in gel, but then she was smart enough not to run her fingers through his hair. If she did, they’d likely get cut up from his glass hard locks.
Still, enough of the boyfriend, you wanted to know about this, my pain, my injury, mi duele. Let me tell you what Soledad did.
She was fuming, sir, smoke exiting her ears and mouth, and I swear her eyes, I thought she was a demon shaking to drag me to the fiery place below. So I left my painted lower digits and told her how it was. Her straightener was heating on the bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if it caused a fire one of these days. Only, it wouldn’t because the function of her and Raymond would not equal long lasting.
“Raymond’s gonna break up with you alright. You’re too good for him, and he knows it. Just look at you. Take a look at all these clothes you got here and everything you do for him. It’s not a balanced relationship and anyone can tell he’s not gonna -
“I don’t know why in hell you’re telling me this now” she says, whipping me with her tone. I tell you friend, she was gonna get downright ugly soon.
“Caro, I just want to have a good time and you can’t even be happy for me. Ray’s been good to me, he respects me and he is always nice to Mama and Daddy, but no one’s ever good enough to you. Just because you’re not happy doesn’t mean you’ve got push it onto me.”
She was crying, lord, there were rivers on her cheeks. I couldn’t tell you, with her cheeks streaming like they were, if she believed me, but then Soledad was a stubborn girl. And that straightener was still heating on her bed. I ask you friend, what kind of girl is it that would change her hair for a man, the hair she loved to wash and brush and arrange because it was a natural beautiful part of her. Why would she want to iron her hair for that man.
“Don’t go crying on me Soledad. I didn’t mean anything for you to cry. Maybe I am too picky on the selections you make. All I was trying to say is you always put so much effort to look good for him, and he comes looking like he just woke up. I mean, take a look here, you’ve got all that electricity on your bed just so he can run his fingers through your hair and he won’t even try to look good for you. Whatever, whatever, it’s your business.”
“That’s right. It is my business.”
“He’s still gonna break up with you.”
She hit me! Do you believe it sir. She put everything down and hit me square in the jaw I could not breath so. I just watched her finish getting ready, neither of us speaking until Raymond picked her up for their date. When they were gone, I took a relaxer and iced my beating jaw to the screen of black and whites on the Turner Classic movies. I must have gone to a doze though, because the next thing I knew, the door slammed and Soledad was making rivers again on her cheeks, only this time they ran thick with glamour.
On the screen, Wagner’s violins screeched in an overture, warning me to stay put, stay put at the couch, but I’ve got to go see Soledad because of our ties as sisters, you won’t understand. It was like Tiresias and Oedipus all over again, and the prophet is always right, but sir, it didn’t feel so good to win. Nothing in the books ever said anything about the prophet getting wacked. Maybe it’s that the prophet should hold his mouth from the beginning so nobody learns he can see what’s creeping up around the corner.
And Soledad, our king, my sister, she’ll live like we always live, even after her heartstrings have been twisted and torn up like dry bits of grass, even after all the cruelties of the heart, she’ll live and move on. But believe me sir, our women, they know too well how to recover. You wait, you’ll see, Soledad will start turning heads again, she’ll make any man dread the day he thinks of leaving her. She’ll get him too, you start watching now, look for the fist stains she’ll leave on a man when he thinks it. Because she hit blood, her own kind, so she’s not gonna be afraid to combat the man who dares to run his fingers through her hair.
//ww