Page 36 of Praying for Thunder

The tip of my toe nudged at the toys on the ground while I reverted to Spanish. “Where should I go, Ani?”

Out of the shower, and into a plain cotton robe in record time, she picked me up. “Right with me, baby. With your Ani.”

Hoping for the peace she always brought me, I laid my head on her shoulder. I audibly sighed when she began to hum and gently rock me.

Sounding a little choked up, Dio asked, “What song is that, Thunder? It is very pretty.”

Not convinced I wanted this time interrupted, I nuzzled Ani’s neck. “Joe’s song.”

Dio must have made a funny expression because Ani giggled. “From a movie. Mighty Joe Young. It’s Niño’s favorite.”

Feeling a little drained, but curious about Dio’s reaction, I turned my head on her shoulder to see him. His eyes were kind and full of understanding, so I asked, “Want to see it?”

While staring at me, Dio’s face reddened again. Then, he swallowed. Hard. “Yeah, my dude. I’d love to see it.”

I lifted my head to ask Ani, “Can we?”

She smiled, her forehead to mine. “Can I have a kiss first?”

My lips, wet with tears, lightly touched hers.

I stayed in her embrace, head to her chest and arms tucked between us, as she went to the TV in our room. Standing by the bathroom door, Dio watched her grab the Mighty Joe Young DVD and place it in the player. Then she shut the bedroom door and locked it. Dio covered his gaping mouth, as if witnessing even more of our ‘routines’ was hard to see.

At the bed, Ani released me so I could crawl to my spot. Again, I patted the blankets to my right. Dio’s cheek twitched as he came to me. To my left, Ani pointed a remote and passed over the advertising so we could get straight to the movie.

That afternoon, the three of us lay in bed and watched my favorite movie. It was about a woman trying to protect endangered apes in Africa. She had a little girl who befriended a baby ape named Joe.

During the scene where the little girl’s mother was dying, having been injured by poachers, Dio watched Ani and I snuggle tighter, trying to comfort each other. As the mother lay there, dying in the dark of the jungle, she began singing to little Joe and the little girl, and Ani pressed her head to mine and hummed the song.

Dio suddenly mumbled to himself, “Little Guy—” He coughed. Grabbing his chest, he got out of bed, sure not to face us, and rambled, “Be right back. I gotta use the bathroom.”

Ani and I stared at the TV, engrossed in the movie, unaware of the connection—the sadness that was our real life.

⚡⚡⚡

Before the club opened for the night, Anita was riled up again, stomping her high heels as she followed Dio and Stew around. “You cannot just waltz around here making decisions for me.”

“Settle down, Tiger.”

I waved at her from over Dio’s shoulder.

We were in the dressing room’s bathroom that was wall-to-wall old white tile. There were a few shower stalls and three toilets along the back wall. Stew pointed up above a toilet. “The only window in here is that tiny one. Yeah, it’s at ground level, but it doesn’t open. The glass is thick, too.”

Approving, Dio carried me back into the dressing room, where Moola and Tiny were putting on makeup.

Stew said, “And, of course, being partially underground, not one window in here.”

I gazed at the block walls I’d never paid attention to unless hanging a drawing of mine. The only wall that looked different to me was the inner one next to the door. The one in front of half the girls’ beauty stations. The other half ran along the outer brick wall.

Pleased, Dio replied, “No wonder you feel they’re safe in here.”

Stew pointed to the only door. “Yep, and it has a lock that’s connected to my cell phone.”

“No shit?” asked an impressed Dio.

“What?” Anita’s silk robe flew behind her as she rushed to the door, examining the lock.

Stew pulled out his phone, tapping on the screen. Sure enough, the door locked.