Born on a sunny November morning in 1960....
If Hector could, he would have transported himself back to the Bronx for his 28th birthday. For one morning he wished to wake up to the sounds of radios blasting in the early morning, the smell of his mother’s cooking, the sound of his parents getting along. He wished to feel the brisk breeze of a New York Novemeber morning, the tios on their way to construction jobs and tias getting themselves ready for shifts at the hospital or a day of cleaning other people’s homes. Just like his mother had done every morning of his childhood. He wished for the belonging, the sound of Spanish as the primary language, the deli owner on the corner, the abuelas playing their numbers. If he closed his eyes hard enough he was there and the sound of the flat top grill at the deli was sizzling behind him. If only.
But despite this intense yearning, Hector still woke up with an ease on the morning of his birthday. His mom had insisted on him staying over so instead of music blasting, he had been woken up by his siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews. He knew it was a blessing, to have so many people who loved him, even if he was trying not to be pissed when one nephew accidentally elbowed him in the face trying to get out of bed. But after the scramble, he made it out of bed to find the table set with a full tres golpes meal, the smell of fried cheese and salami hitting him with such a sense of home, it was hard to want to be anywhere else. They sang Happy Birthday in English and Spanish and he spent half the morning on the phone as relatives from New York and DR called and sent their blessings. Hector knew that he was lucky. And even that was an understatement.
And yet, despite it all, he was still waiting to hear from his father. He checked the mail for a card, ignored the look his mom gave him when she realized it was what he was searching for. He knew the call would come late, days from now if anything but he couldn’t rid himself of that yearning. So he tried to push it down, let his family showed him in love, picked out a good outfit and took his car out for a ride, already in search of the continued love he knew he’d get form the people around him. He was lucky and he knew that. Chandler was still alive and kicking and he had to admit that the idea of living with her had started to feel like an actual dream come true. A teenage prophecy and wish come to life. He had reconnected with Juliet in a way that had brought him back to himself. That had reminded him that even in his hardest times, he had never really been alone. And his new life had brought Eilowny, who, whether she knew it or not, had repaired his heart in ways he couldn’t even name. Heaven sent was how he liked to think about her.
Hector knew that this life was his real life now. The life he had wanted. The baseball career, the money and fame, the pursuit of his one true passion. That life had ended and now lay before him a choice. He could wait around, wait for the killers to catch him and let his life end that way. Or he could try to live with the time he had. Make something meaningful out of it. Find a new passion. Find a new love to pursue. And maybe, finally, let the people who love him actually love him. It felt like too tall of a task but the closer he got to 30, the more he was learning. The more he was realizing. The more he had to live for. As he turned the corner, Shrike Heights Radio booming from the speakers, for a brief moment he felt in his chest, his heart and mind that maybe, finally, he was going to be okay. He was going to be just fine.
ft. @bitcme @withncmercy @urdamage
