Free Fall

“”What’re you, scared? he taunted.”

I looked at the marble tiles in front of me, all lined up in a perfect path to the jump.

I can do this, I thought. I had to do it. 

Raffi was menacing me, it was my turn today. Last week he dared Albert to jump off a retaining wall, and he almost lost a limb. Okay, it was a sprained ankle, but when he landed his leg twisted and locked in a way that made me sure he’d never walk again. Luckily, Albert was made of rubber. Raffi, the oldest and strongest  of us four, naturally inherited the role as the leader that we were both terrified of and felt the need to please.

I looked around La Plaza de la Banderas, filled with passing families and hungry pigeons. We’d come almost every evening  that summer, mostly because our grandparents didn’t know what else to do with us. Plus we’d just started rollerblading and were obsessed with it.  We waited all day until the heat died down and Mama was free from her duties in El Colmado. Honestly, she’d been done earlier if we hadn’t stolen so much inventory (mostly candy), or broken the jars while trying to escape the wrath of her chancleta. Sometimes she broke them herself after throwing them at us. It made me quicker, I think, and more agile. It made me a better skater.

The plaza’s best feature was that it was completely flat. We couldn’t skate in the streets without hitting a pothole or speedbump, or being hit by a moped carrying 3 adults, two chickens, and a baby. At least we wore helmets.The plaza was our sanctuary, and Raffi had found the only ramp in it.

“Watch, I’ll show you,” he said.

His legs slid forward in long, diagonal strides. He glided down the tiles and over the ramp with ease, as if he’d been practicing to show us. He was proof that it could be done.

I got up from the steps I’d taken refuge on.

This is not a good idea, this is not a good idea. I could feel it. But I did it anyway. 

I followed in Raffi’s shadow, mimicking his exact trajectory. I pushed forward, picking up speed. I really was getting better at this. I hit the ramp and sailed into the air, floating above the earth for just a moment before I felt the pavement catch me face first. 

My whole face went numb. I touched it to make sure it was still there. I felt thick, hot, blood dripping from my mouth. I felt my teeth shift slightly, one was completely out. The pain hadn’t set in, but I started to cry from the shock, and from the failure. And instantly, the yelling came. 

Is this a cultural thing, or does everyone’s parents (and grandparents) yell at them when they get hurt?It was the same feedback I’d gotten when I fell off my bike and cut both elbows and knees open; an accusation. Like I was trying to look abused to trigger a call to DCF and get my parents locked up. “Your beautiful legs! They’ll be scarred forever,” my mom emphasized. Well, there goes my modeling career.. what other future possibilities are ruined mom? Lets make a list.

The four of us were herded to the car immediately. No more rollerblading. Ever. If we were going to mangle ourselves, it’d have to be on our parent’s time. My grandmother refused to be responsible. We’d have to find another way to spend the summer. 

Back at the house, we showered and made our way into our PJ’s for an early night. My grandmother did her nightly check on us, covering wounds and making sure we’d brushed our teeth. Looking back, I don’t know how she handled it all. I understand why my grandfather once locked Raffi and Albert in separate rooms instead of trying to use civilized conflict resolution. It must have been exhausting. 

“Let me take a look,” she said, instructing me to open my mouth.

“No, I’m fine,” I responded. I really was. My front tooth had been hit but was barely moving. I was sore and a little swollen but that was it.

Mama said, “I’m just going to look, I won’t touch it, I promise.”

I agreed and opened for her to look. She twisted her head below my chin and then from one side to another for different perspectives. She spoke softly, and grazed my face with her fingers. It was gentle and almost soothing to feel her softness with me. She was not a soft woman, and I was as rugged as kids come. We were reflections of each other in some ways, which led for few smooth interactions between us. I relaxed in front of her as she put her hands on my mouth. Then, in a split second, she put her finger to my front tooth  and tore it straight out of its socket. It flung freely into the room, landing miles from where I sat in shock. I’m pretty sure it even hit a wall. As Raffi and Albert scoured for it, my mouth pooled with blood for a second time that day. 

Maybe, I should have been a little more scared.