The Pulse between Dimensions and the Desert Read Online Free PDF Page B

trying to get comfortable on the couch, Isabella threw an iron across the living room while screaming at my tía. She smashed a lamp into the ground. She slammed her palms against the kitchen table over and over. I’m still not sure who owed them money or if they owed someone money, but Isabella screamed “I am going to teach those motherfuckers a lesson!” She came out in baggy navy blue sweats, a beanie covering her head and a goatee drawn onto her face. She clutched onto a baseball bat and stormed out of the apartment. I hid under a blanket after she left. Days later, I stopped living with them and moved back to El Paso.
    In El Paso, we moved into an apartment with Vero and her boyfriend. This is where my mother reappears into my memory. She had recently given birth to my youngest sister Magdalena who I was meeting for the first time. The blonde man with blue eyes showed up at the door. I froze and the only form of defense I could come up with was to growl. He ignored me and I was thankful. I held my breath as he walked past me and up the steps to see his daughter. I followed. He smiled at the small creature as she clasped his finger with her tiny hand. That was the last time I saw him. He walked out on my mother and my little sister. Even in my mother’s heartbreak, I whispered loudly to my sister. I promised her I would take full responsibility in never telling her what her father was.

THE PULSE BETWEEN DIMENSIONS
    AND THE DESERT

    Sylvia shuffled through her pockets and only felt a crisp dollar bill. Flaca and Morena had dropped her by the bus stop. They wanted to drink and dance to cumbias in Juárez. Sylvia had to go home. She just had a baby girl five months back. She named the infant after herself: Sylvia Estella. When people asked her: “¿Dondé está el papa de la bebé?” she would simply answer with “El culo se murió” to deter them. The wrath of her mamá was creeping into the forefront of Sylvia’s mind. Her ma, Lupe, worked at a Levi’s factory every day of the week and was calm while watching her telenovelas en la casa, but when Sylvia fucked up, Lupe was not one to be subtle about the repercussions of the fuck up. Lupe had a stack of chanclas in the small closet of the house, Sylvia swore. Her stomach gurgled as she looked into the window of the bakery.
    “Hola, mija.”
    El viejito smiled as his eyes followed her to the counter.
“Necesito cambio para el bus, por favor.”
    She straightened out the dollar bill which she had folded into a small clumpy square on her short walk to the shop. The little man tugged at the dollar and gave her change from his blue apron pocket.
    “¿Tienes hambre, mija?”
    Sylvia’s belly announced itself in the empty shop.
“¿Tiene pan dulce?”
    The depth of brown in his eyes looked into hers. The display was empty, except for a handful of donuts. He nodded and headed to the back of the shop. He handed her a sweet loaf of bread that reminded Sylvia of the turtles she would catch with her cousin when she and Lupe visited LA back in the day. Sylvia ate the sugar shell pattern off the top of the fluffy bread and stashed the bottom portion in her pocket to give to the gutsy pigeons outside.
    It started with trauma. Nothing sci-fi about it. No heavenly attributions. Just straight up time travel powers caused by trauma.
    I was digging around the couch, looking for coins. We watched as the adults played “Quarters” with tequila and tiny glasses. I snuck into the kitchen, found the apple juice and grabbed the mini glass cups. One had Benjamin Franklin on it because my oldest sister’s boyfriend bought it and said “Ay pues, electricity is my shit” and the other one had “Selena Forever” on it, in lovely purple cursive. As the volume of the adults elevated into more and more laughter, I poured the apple juice into the glasses and told my little sister Ruby the rules. We had to make the coins bounce into the glasses before we could drink and begin our