The Latin Deli: Prose and Poetry

Twist and Shout

Twist and Shout It's 1967, summer, and I'm as restless as all of America. The Beatles are inundating the airwavesin our apartment building, drowning out our parents' salsas. My mother has left me alone to keep an eye on the red kidney beans boiling for dinner, while she goes to the bodega for oregano or some other ingredient she needs. She had tried in vain to make me understand what it is, but I have resisted her Spanish . As soon as she has gone down one flight of stairs, I run up two, to 5-B, where the music has been playing loud enough for me to hear from my room. The door is unlocked and I burst in on Manny dancing with his sister, Amelia, who is fifteen and wants to be called Amy. Amy's best friend Cecilia (Ceci) isstretched out on the sofa like Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra. They are all singing along with the Beatles' "Twist and Shout." Manny and Amy are dancing too close for brother and sister. They are grindingtheir bodies together, chest to chest and hip to hip. I have a crush on Manny, who is Puerto Rican like me but has blue eyes and curly blond hair. His father was an American. Amy is dark like me: different fathers. Manny suddenly grabs me from where I have flattened myself against the door to watch them dance. He's much taller than I am and too old to be in the eighth grade—fourteen. Their mother moves them from place to place in the city a lot, so they've both been held back a couple of grades. All the Puerto Rican girls are crazy about Manny. He's a great dancer, and there's a rumor—not a virgin . Manny pushes Amy away and wraps himself around me. I feel my heart pounding against my rib cage like when I jump doubleDutch -rope in the school playground.I'm usingmy armsand elbows against him, to try to get a little air between us. I want to get close to Manny but not so close that I can't breathe. I'm a little scared at the 22 way his body is moving and his hot mouth is pressing on my head. He is singing along with John Lennon, and I feel every word on my skin, since his wet lips are travelingdown my neck. I manage to twist my face away just as Lennon hits the high note, over his shoulder I see Amy and Ceci making out on the sofa. They are kissing on the mouth. Their faces are contorted into what looks like pain but what I have learned to recognize, from the Spanish TV soap operas my mother and I watch at night, as passion. Manny has me pinned to the wall and is grinding his hips into mine. It hurts a little, since I'm skinnyand my pelvic bones stick out, but it feels good too. I think this is what I came up to 5-6 for but too much all at once. Suddenly I remember my mother's red kidney beans. I have a vision of them boiling down into a sticky, sour paste. That's what can happen if you don't watch them. The thought of what my mother would do gives me the strength I need to pry myself out of Manny's iron grasp. He springsaway from me and into a spin like one of the Temptations—what a good dancer he is. He could be on TV. I watch him land on the tangle of arms and legs that are Amy and Ceci on the sofa. Like an octopus having a snack, they pull him down and engulf him. I hear them laughing above the music and the group's throatscraping final shout. As I enter our kitchen, I smell the beans: almost done. Their shells will be tender but still intact. I add a little water—just to be on the safe side. Then, still feeling a little weak in the knees, I sit down at the table to watch them. 23 ...