Soul Bites
I felt a slap to my side that brought me to life.
My body jumped reflexively. It reeled away from the touch, eyes fluttering open to soft plastic. Dark. My forehead pressed against a smooth but firm surface.
A mistake.
I uncurled myself from where I had slumped against the chair armrest, like a slinky out of a fresh box.
My mother’s eyes, normally a sweet café brown, now burned into me. They flicked apologetically to the man behind the desk, beaming as if he’d won a prize. Her arms tensely rose to signal our retreat.
“Mijo, let's go.”
“It’s alright.” The worker chuckled, amusement lighting up his own eyes. Or was it the computer?
The chair squeaked as I got up. The office man talked a lot. His words an unwelcome trick, putting me to sleep with his grown-up speak only my mother could understand, like “Fraud” and “Reimburse-something.” It was normally my job to keep up.
“I-I woke up at five in the morning.” I offered.
His smile seemed to grow even larger.
I felt my mom’s firm hand on my shoulder, and I let her guide me to the door. She thanked him for all his help and said she would return again. As the door swung closed behind me, I caught the man's grin vanish from his face.
We made our way outside and across the parking lot, my footsteps sluggish. The still bright evening sun caused my eyes to squint, but In the half-vision, I noticed how my mother's shoulders drooped. Her eyebrows were almost touching when she looked down at me and said soberly, “We’re going home.”
By the time we reach our car, an old apple red truck with a big dent on its side, i feel brave enough to ask, “It took a long time…What happened?”
At first she only sighed, the same heavy breath she gave when my room became unlivable, before getting inside the truck.
My fingers slipped on the car door handle my first try. I pushed my shoulder against the bent metal and it popped open with a satisfying whine. When I get in mom is holding her head over the steering wheel.
“We are going to have less money this month Vicente. Un grosero out there took our food money.”
It wasn’t me. I thought, but decided not to say it out loud.
“…We’ll make more.”
A laugh escaped her mouth. Too loud. She looked at me for a second and then cupped my chin, before reaching to click in my seatbelt.
At that moment, a nagging pull tugged inside of me. Money was like the heat that made me sweat under my shirt, Invisible but present.
I could say that I would help her more, maybe clean around the house. I could mention how I had been giving a part of my dinner to my younger brother and sister already, maybe that would make her feel relaxed.
But instead, I lay my head against the glass as the truck roared awake.
(The unheard people. Miillions is the number of state benefits that have been stolen just this year. Your neighbors, schoolmates, and part time nanny's swiping an empty card when it's time to check out at their local grocery store. There is no reprieve on the horizon for these families as they will not be reimbursed what was stolen. Stay wolfish, stay informed.)