My Grandpa Rick, except he's no scientist

Come watch TV

Seconds after dropping my school bag at the doorway, Grandpa brushes past me, stomping onto the squeaky floor boards with his heavy boots. He brings his hands up, blowing warm air into his fists. I drag my feet onto our welcome mat, shaking off melting snow, watching as he leaves trails of water through the apartment. I feel a rumble and look down, squeezing at my stomach. Hungry.

Bringing a chair to the side of the kitchen counter, I climb onto it and reach for the cupboards, pulling out a half full family sized bag of nacho Doritos. I make my way to the living room, turn on the television, and begin stuffing my face with dusty cheese. I fall asleep to the sweet hymns of the George Lopez theme song.

I wake up to clinking and clanking. Soft colorful lights from the TV streams over me, filling the eggshell walls. I crane my neck to see Grandpa standing by my parents liquor cabinet, downing something dark. He burps and stumbles back, grabbing onto the edge of the cabinet, but loses his footing. He falls onto his side, and miraculously doesn’t spill, keeping his grip tight around the glass, steady and balanced.

“Esta bien?” I want to shout, but my voice comes out small and squeaky.

Grandpa looks up at me, taking a few slow blinks before throwing his head back and laughing. His laughter turns to soft wheezes and then a coughing fit. After a moment, he contains himself and climbs back up onto his feet.

“Si, si! Estoy bien. Ponte a dormir. Tu mamá y papá llegan de trabajar pronto.”

He turns his back to me, facing the liquor cabinet once again. I stare at his green hoodie. Too large for his thin frame but he wears it everyday. I roll around on the sunken brown couch until I’m comfortable again. Wiggling my arms out of the sleeves of my hoodie, I quickly wrap them around myself, enjoying my body heat against the cold. Content and serene, I easily fall back to sleep.

---

Papi and Grandpa’s relationship is really not that complicated. Grandpa is a functioning drunk and Papi hates him. Hates him so much that he offers our basement to Grandma and him because rent is too high for Papi to help pay on his own. So I guess, begrudgingly, he tolerates him. Now Grandpa is yelling over our movie nights, taking Papi’s car and stealing from the liquor cabinet. Grandma nervously runs her hands over one another and watches. Sometimes gives a scoff of distaste or shakes her head as if to say, “what can you do?” but mostly, she just watches.

---

Parking is terrible in Downtown and the prices for the garages are worse. Papi strikes a deal with Grandpa. He can only use the car to drop Papi off and then pick him up from work. Consequently, this also means that Grandpa will pick me up too.

I sit at the top of the enormous steps of my middle school. All the buses have taken off. I watch as my classmates leave and teachers get into their cars. The parking lot becomes barren; I see tumbleweed make its way across.

A black car pulls in, honking before it even stops.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and rush down, careful not to trip over any steps. As I get closer, the window lowers and Grandpa flashes me a toothy grin.

Once I get into the passenger's seat, I turn up the radio. Grandpa drums the beat perfectly on the steering wheel; often letting go of it to drum on the dashboard. I giggle and sing along to the top hits, Grandpa laughs and laughs. He rolls all our windows down and shouts whatever lyrics he can make out, onto the street.

“Diablo tu si puedes cantar!” He yells over the music at me.

A smile splits onto my face. I’m usually pretty shy about singing but Grandpa turns the volume on the car radio up to the max and speeds down the streets of Boston. When around him, I’m not scared of being a little loud.

Grandpa parks in front of a Bodega. He tells me he’ll be back in a few minutes, to stay in the car and lock the doors. I watch as he coolly adjusts his bomber jacket, green hoodie poking out from underneath, and saunters in. I lean back in the passenger's seat and pull my phone out before deciding that I look too comfortable for all the people just passing by. I sit up straight and eye the streets, aware of every man that comes too close to the car. I’m not sure about the time, but Grandpa has been gone long enough for me to start thinking that anyone can notice how long I’ve been sitting in this car alone. Small and unprotected. The sun has been setting and the sky is painting a pretty purple, but still no Grandpa.

After a while of sitting in silence, I look up and see his familiar walk, gliding across the street from the liquor store, carrying some black plastic bags. I hadn’t even noticed when he left the Bodega. Grandpa drops into the driver's seat, making the car shake and slams his door shut, making my ears ring.

He leans in close and laughs right in my face. I blink and lean back, smelling it all over his breath. Grandpa shoves his hand into one of the bags and pulls out Lays chips; original. He winks and tosses them into the lap. I play with the plastic end of the potato chip bag and watch him from the side of my eye. He downs a nip, howls and dramatically shivers before looking over at me and grinning wickedly. I stare wide eyed. He tosses the tiny empty bottle through the window and turns the car on. I sit up straight. That’s littering.

It’s darker now, so I reach over to turn the volume of the radio low. Grandpa makes a show, saying he likes it loud and turns it back up. I grip onto the armrest and purse my lips. We breeze through a red light and Grandpa laughs, sticking his hand out and giving the middle finger to whoever probably saw their life flash before their eyes.

“¡Pendejo!”

He cackles maniacally. He sticks his head out as a woman crosses the street.

“¡Mira mami te vez buenaaaa!”

We stop at a red light and we’re met with a guy who Grandpa probably cut off a few minutes before. Grandpa honks the horn extensively to get his attention.

“Yeah yeah yeah, fuck you motherfucker. Mamaguevo! Azaroso!”

The man looks to be getting out of his car. The light turns green and Grandpa floors it while his head is still out the window, barking at the man. I tell Grandpa that we’re going to be late to pick Papi up from work. He looks at me confused at first and then blinks before nodding furiously.

“Si, si. Tu papa.”

When Papi comes out of the employee entrance and crosses the street, Grandpa stays put. Papi walks up to the driver's side and stares.

“Si quieres, yo puedo manejar-“ Grandpa starts.

“No.” Papi is stern.

Grandpa unbuckles his seat belt and gets out, letting Papi sit behind the wheel. I get out as well, letting Grandpa sit in the passenger's seat while I move to the back. Papi is quiet and Grandpa complains about all the terrible driving and traffic he’s run into today. I rest my head against the car door and close my eyes, lips tasting of salt and grease.

---

Grandpa does this funny dance move where he waves his arms around in a circle like he's mixing up domino pieces. We all copy him, my cousins and I. The five of us are laughing and following his every dance move in the living room. Merengue blasts loudly, thumping through my chest; we wipe sweat from our foreheads and keep going. We move for hours, no breaks. Whenever one of us sits down, Grandpa yells at the top of his lungs, telling us to get on our feet, keep going, keep dancing. He grabs us by our arms until we’re up and swaying again. My side cramps and I hold onto it as I try to escape and walk over Grandma.

“Ayyy no, no, no. Move it! Move it!” His voice booms.

Grandpa appears beside me, tugging at the collar of my shirt and bringing me back to the living room. I tell him that my side hurts but he looks at me with furrowed brows like I’m trying to fool him. I continue to dance through the pain because the last time I did stop, he got so upset with me that he screamed, locking himself up in his room for the remainder of that night.

---

It’s summer and Mami and Papi have invited all of their best friends, and their best friends have invited theirs. A cookout for the ages. Five ice coolers, two tables of food, from rice and chicken to pastelitos, taquitos, Dominican spaghetti and boxes and boxes of beer. Papi excitedly shows off his playlist and new bluetooth speakers that fade into different glowing colors. Mami is running in and out of the house, always needing more paper plates or plastic forks. Even with the sun having already set, People dive into our pool. I slowly trail my feet around in the water. I can hear Papi’s bright laughter, the one that comes out after a few Coronas and he’s finally feeling more comfortable. I smile to myself, as he wraps his arms around his best friends and they belt along to Romeo Santos and Diomedes Nuñez.

Suddenly, I remember that I have a disposable camera in my room with a couple shots left in it. I lift my feet out of the water, slip into my flip flops and quickly waddle up to my room, not wanting to make too much of a mess throughout the house.

I dig through the clothes on my floor before getting down and looking under my bed. I see the disposable camera and reach, pulling back with it to hear faint yelling coming from outside.

Just from my window I can see Grandpa stumbling out into the pool area where everyone is. He’s swinging his arms and grabbing onto the table of food, trying to keep himself up. Papi is shouting. I can’t make out entire sentences, but it sounds like Grandpa is tired of all these people still being at his house.

“¡Ya, ya que se vayan todos! ¡No ven que ya es de noche!”

“Aye, que paso?” One of Papi’s friends says, trying to calm Grandpa down.

“Que ya! Estoy harto!” Grandpa howled.

I bolted down from my room to see that Papi had already brought Grandpa inside. Papi is tall with wide shoulders and Grandpa’s frame is so small, standing in a corner as Papi lurches over him.

“Just stay the fuck inside and don’t come out! I don’t want you here! You’re embarrassing me. Can’t you ever just stop!? ”

Mami tries to grab onto Papi’s arm but he pulls away from her.

“Can’t you see that he’s drunk? He can’t let anyone have a good time, he always has to ruin it. Yelling at my friends, to get out like this is his house. This isn’t your house! This is my house! My property! My car! After this you’re not living here anymore and I don’t give a fuck where you go!”

Papi is breathing heavily, chest falling and rising with veins popping out. Grandpa looks up at him, eyes low and bloodshot. He mumbles something under his breath before retreating into the basement. Grandma, who was watching and listening from afar, begins to follow. I reach out and grab at her hand.

“Abuela, ¿te vas acostar ya?”

“Mi niña, tengo sueño. Y tu abuelo solo sale cuando yo salgo. Me voy a quedar con él.”

I can faintly hear Papi yelling from outside as his friends try to calm him down.

As Grandma enters the basement, Mami comes back from outside and asks for my help; she needs to find some aluminum to fix peoples plates to take home. I follow her into the kitchen and walk over to the pantry, looking for the box. When I pull back, I see that she has her hands on the counter, head hanging between her arms. She breathes out a shaky and long sigh.

“He gets so angry sometimes…” Mami whispers.

“Grandpa? I know.”

“No, tu papa.”

I look at her face, sunken and tired. She shakes her head as if to brush it off and laughs through her teeth.

“I don’t even think he sees it.”

I blink and hand her a roll of aluminum. She smiles faintly at me before making her way back outside.

I stay in the kitchen. Luna makes her way over to me and weaves around my feet, rubbing her head against my calf. I remember when I first saw her. The tiniest thing; fit in the palms of my hands. Grandpa had brought her home in a box, my eyes filling up with tears when I heard soft mewls coming from the inside.

“La gata en la Bodega ya pario!” He laughed, shoulders jumping up and down.

A bodega cat. She kept meowing so I picked her up to my chest. I whispered I love yous into her fur.

“Si, si. Le dije al hombre de la Bodega, que me guardara uno de esos gatitos. Y que sea una niña. Para mi niña.”

Grandpa’s eyes were glistening when they met mine.

Looking down now, Luna has jumped onto a dining chair and is reaching out for some pets. She rubs her face against the disposable camera that I still had in my hand, purring softly. I remember how excited I was to capture the present, but I hear TV murmurs coming from the basement where Grandma and Grandpa are and I decide to leave it for another night.