Pieces of Chile

Don’t promise me you’ll be there. Just do it. You know how many times we asked America to help us? We read they would. We saw pictures that they would. No one helped us.

I worked at a telephone company – you know the old plugs in? You plug this one to that one and it connects you? Your father would wait for me each evening to walk me home because there’d been some not-so-good stories about a couple of other girls. One, I hadn’t seen in a while; the other, Carmen, well, it had been days since her attack. She wouldn’t take our visits or calls.

Continue reading