American River Review 2019 - Flipbook - Page 35
Manny was abused by his father. Mr. Ortega
doesn’t appear in any of Manny’s pictures but the
way Manny described the abuse gives Christina three
clear understandings: Mr. Ortega is big, Mr. Ortega is
traditional, Mr. Ortega is why Manny feels the need
to be so hard on himself. The abuses start out light—
there is a belt or there is a shoe— and then they begin
to escalate into moments of knuckles against flesh.
The reasons for punishment are never worth the crime.
Manny doesn’t deserve this. Manny deserves better.
Manny deserves love.
I’m only a handful of weeks away from 21 when I
decide to host my first and final underage party. My
parents, for the first time in my 20 years of existence,
have gone on a small vacation and left me to care for
the house. I send out text messages to my friends and
secure a thirty-rack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in exchange
for driving a friend to work. As the night progresses the
Can’t make it, have fun! and See you next year! texts
flood my inbox. I stare at the mountain of cheap beer
and remember that I am not the party type.
Manny stares at the photo he has just uploaded to
Tumblr. In the photo, he is smiling alongside another
man. He looks good today. He looks happy. Manny
titles the photo “best friend” and then sends a message
to Mollie through his cellphone. Mollie is a girl who
reached out to him through Tumblr and they have been
hitting it off very well over the last month. She’s from
a small town in Illinois and made it a point to tell him
that she’s always wanted to see New York and that
maybe this summer she can save up enough for a plane
ride.
His inbox has several messages from Christina but
he doesn’t reply.
I’m drunk and leaning against the washing machine.
The cold cement numbs my thighs and I roll my
head to look at the only friend who showed up to the
party. She’s sitting next to me smoking a cigarette and
laughing at how quickly I got drunk.
“Can I have a drag?”
She looks at me and bites her bottom lip, thinking it
over.
“Please? I heard if you’re drunk and you smoke you
don’t get addicted.” I’ve rolled my body onto her lap
and am now looking up at her thin, pointed features.
She hands the cigarette over with two fingers and I
grasp it like a baby getting a bottle for the first time.
The inhale causes me to cough and I hate myself.
She laughs and takes the cigarette from my coughing
body. “Come on, I think you need some more alcohol.”
Her hands guide me up and lead me to the beer pong
table I crafted out of my bedroom door.
A month of being ignored has caused Christina to
question her entire friendship with Manny and she finds
me using a reverse image search. “After like...four
years,” she types into Facebook messenger, “I was the
one to figure it all out.”
When I read her words I am on my bed with shaky
hands. My fingers struggle to scroll through Manny
Ortega’s Tumblr, my eyes scanning over the captions.
Got high tonight to numb the pain. Feeling better.
Reading these infuriates me. He’s lying.
Christina continues to type. “He’s not even 100%
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