It’s a Miami Christmas: there’s the constant sound of singing and gunfire from across the river. (People in Little Havana shoot into the air to celebrate.)
My mother’s cell phone rings. I think she’s at the apartment next door, so I go outside to bring it to her.
I open the door and my mother and two neighbors come running up the stairs.
Mom: “Go inside and lock the door!”
There’s yelling from downstairs.
Me: “Whut what? What’s going on? Do we need the cops?”
Neighbor: “No, not yet…”
Yet. Great. I close the door and then hear a neighbor screaming outside: “Don’t you touch my wife!”
A few minutes later I hear my mother pounding on the back door.
Mom: “Why is the door locked?!”
Me: “Uh, you told me to lock the door…”
Mom: “Oh. Right. I meant the front door.”
Me: “What is this chaos outside?”
Mom: “We were all at Geraldo’s house and Jose was acting stupid… I think it’s because he wasn’t invited or something.”
She grabs a few diet cokes and goes back out the back door.
I return to my novel, and try to ignore the drunken conversation (and occasional screaming) from outside. We’ll see if things pop off…
**** Update
Mom comes back in and says:
Mom: “I’m about to call the police on his ass! Jose told me: ‘punch me in the face, I need to feel pain.’ See a few days ago he met this girl…”
Apparently Jose is running around asking all the neighbors to punch him ‘so he can feel pain’ because this girl he went on a date with ditched him for another man… special.
