52
Power
Kris Green
One.
The screen was black. Juan tapped his spacebar rapidly a couple of times mumbling how much he hated technology. The fan, spinning violently above him, had stopped rocking back and forth and crawled to a stop. The AC halted with an exhale as the fan blades spun their final revolutions.
“Mijo?” Juan’s mother called from her bedroom barely cracking the door open.
“Come on out, Ma.” Juan said any sign of his Hispanic accent gone out of his voice.
“There’s no power.” His mother, who on some level had refused to try to learn how to
sound American, spoke heavily accented.
“I know, Ma.” Juan said rising from his chair and walking toward the kitchen to look through the window to see if he could see a light on in a neighbor’s house. Nothing. He went back into the dining room, his makeshift office, and peered out the front blackout curtains and saw nothing. Even the traffic light on the corner was out.
“I didn’t want to disturb you, Mijo, but there’s no power.”
Juan looked up and saw his mother still peeking through the narrow slit of her door. He couldn’t help the exasperated breath that came out as he waved at her to come forward. She refused. “I know. Come on out, Ma.”
“The power is out.”
Juan lowered his head forcing down any show of emotion. He had made the mistake of showing his short-temperedness with her before. Making his mother cry was one of the worst feelings in the world.
2
or a ruthless father never quenched her fury. She fought everything even when Jerry’s disease
ravaged the world.