Best Debut Short Stories 2021 by Yuka Igarashi

Author:Yuka Igarashi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781646220809
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2021-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

“Better that way,” Luis said, rolling the plastic cup between his palms. “I met mine once. He’s a real asshole. Fucking mamón,” he said, looking at me. I never knew Luis had met his dad. “All he talked about was the Beatles.”

“You told me about that,” Fermín said. His fingers, with their small tufts of black hair near the knuckle, pinched hard into each lime, so that the liquid shot into the bag. He squeezed each one to its limit, until the last bits of pulp dribbled out. The juice ran down the insides of the bag and mixed with the pool of Salsa Amor on the bottom.

“Where did you meet him?” I asked Luis.

“At the Donut Avenue. The chinos sell good tea there, real sweet. My mom called my tía’s house, thought I was old enough and should have a dad.”

“He was in a shiny red car, right?” Fermín shook the churritos one final time and placed the open bag in the middle of the table.

“Yeah,” Luis chuckled. He grabbed a handful of churritos. As he chewed, he sucked in cool air through his puckered lips and gave Fermín a nod of approval.

“Yeah, looked like a fuckin’ joto in that Mustang,” Luis said, still chewing. “Made me sit in it with him. Played that shit music with his system. Never got out of the car, just wanted to talk. Why the fuck would I want to talk with that pendejo. That’s what I told my tía, anyway. She knew I was angry.”

I was waiting for Fermín to grab some churritos first, but he looked at me and pointed to the bag. His dark eyes were intimidating, yet there was a gentleness in his attention.

I thought it’d be rude not to dig in, so I popped some into my mouth. The stimulation of spice and acidity made my mouth water.

Fermín had been waiting for me—he plopped a handful into his mouth. I noticed Luis’s furrowed brow, a confused wrinkle between his narrow eyes.

He tossed his head back and continued, “I threw out the chicle wrapper he put his cell number on. Said he’d buy me my own cell, so we could talk. But fuck it, que se chingue.”

Fermín chewed with his mouth open. His fine-trimmed moustache contrasted with the fullness of his lips. As his mouth chomped up and down, I saw that his braces were missing the wires. Silver jewels encrusted his teeth. Fermín maintained his gaze on Luis while he kept speaking, but I’d grown bored by Luis’s bastardly rant.

“What I should have asked that puto, really, is why he doesn’t fix up my mom’s papers, you know? Why not do that? But, who knows . . .”

“My amá left too,” I blurted, not entirely sure why. “Some years ago.”

Luis and Fermín stared at me.

“Yeah, I know,” Luis said. “No big deal right, ni pedo.” He dropped the last few sopping wet churritos into his mouth. Those were the best ones.

The empty bag lay between us—a gutted animal—hot sauce and pulp leaking like viscera from its mangled plastic body.

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