Steve came up to the couple just finishing a waltz and asked Emily if she would care to dance with him. Is he kidding? I never thought he’d ask, she thought, but only said, “I’d love to.” Then she turned to Jack to introduce the two men. She wanted to say that this was the man she wanted to take to bed, but she refrained from mentioning that bit of personal desire.

When we approached the trailer, almost like a switch had been turned on, I had a sudden and overwhelming need for sex. It was urgent and primal, nap forgotten. After we got inside I was totally focused on that need, and began undressing Marty.

I saw her less than a minute after lamenting, “Why didn’t I buy a shawl when we were at the market last night? I’m freezing!”

My husband and friends just looked at me, since they knew it was a rhetorical question, because, why didn’t I buy one after each of them had wisely purchased something warm for the cooler mountainous climate? It was cold at this location in the winter, especially early in the morning.

One day, I had to leave school early, as I had started my period, and not only was the flow heavy but so were my cramps. I was in a lot of pain. I asked my teacher if she would let the studio know that I couldn’t go clean or be there for my training classes today, and I went home.

Agony. That was my name, not a condition in which I suffered. At least toward the end. When I decided I needed to change my name. Because I was tired of not only feeling bad but being the brunt of nasty people’s jokes. And having my mother’s boyfriends’ needs for making my name meaningful.

A heavy breath of air slid from her mouth. Swallowing hard, a flash from her childhood crowded uninvited into her mental visuals.

A young Emily sat in a tall wooden chair wanting to disappear through the slats as she pressed her slender back against them. Her grandmother’s sallow face was just inches from her own, a saggy mask of bulging eyes and stretched out mouth full of yellowed teeth. Sour breath blew into the wide-eyed face as the old woman screeched out her warning.

Darkness hovered around the perimeter of the kitchen unable to venture too close to the dim rays that drifted from the hooded bulb over the table. Sitting on the edge of a wooden chair, Emily leaned into the protective glow, with elbows propped on a worn, ragged mat. Glancing down at the quilted fabric, she saw frayed edges and broken threads that reminded her of seedlings reaching up to catch the light. She understood that need, but looked away, tightening her grip around the mug she held pressed against her cheek.

Walking along the edge of the warm Caribbean sea, flicking sand with your toes as you go from the wet onto the dry, trying to avoid the tide as it rolls in closer, not wanting to get your feet wet. Getting wet would be fine, as the temps are in the low 80’s, the breeze is warm and balmy, but as a game, you see how close to the water you can get without letting the surf touch you.

Just past twilight, dark enough to notice the spotlights ahead to our left, Mac and I walked toward the restaurant, hand in hand, playfully bumping hips, looking forward to dancing at the karaoke-dance event. We slowed our steps, wondering about the lights, the commotion, and the hum of voices we could hear at Mel and Dora’s palapa down the street across from our destination. Something major was going on to warrant the intense illumination and draw in so many people.