Dear Reader,
Today's guest author, Cleyvis Natera, was born in the Dominican Republic, migrated to the U.S. at ten years old, and grew up in New York City. She holds a BA from Skidmore College and an MFA from New York University. Her writing has won awards and fellowships from PEN America, the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, The Kenyon Review's Summer Writers Workshops, and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Cleyvis lives with her husband and two young children in Montclair, New Jersey. Her first novel is, Neruda on the Park, an exhilarating debut novel following members of a Dominican family in New York City who take radically different paths when faced with encroaching gentrification.
Please email and welcome Cleyvis to the book club: [email protected]
ARRIVALS
My three siblings and I left the Dominican Republic on Feb 15, 1988. I was ten years old, my younger sister Evelyn was eight, while my older brother Lindo was twelve and my older sister Shany was fourteen. According to weather data, there was a light rain that fell throughout the day in JFK, temperatures rather mild hovered in the mid to upper 40's. But for a bunch of kids from the Caribbean--we might as well have landed in the Arctic. When we stepped outside onto the JFK sidewalk, to locate the uncle who hadn't shown up as expected at baggage claim with our coats, we hollered and screeched like we were getting murdered. Mami, who'd been living in the US three years by then and had gone to the DR to get us, laughed, delighted at our exaggeration. It's not that cold, she said. In that moment I thought of how I would describe this new sensation to my father, who remained in the Dominican Republic, who would never travel to our new home.
When we arrived at my grandmother's apartment in Washington heights, we were enfolded into so many arms--aunts and uncles and my grandparents offered the warmth of family, ensuring we knew we'd just arrived at a place where we were all so deeply loved.
The day went by at high speed. There was so much food, so much to drink, we ended our first meal sated and awed. But as night descended, we came to find out our family would be further splintered--no one's apartment could accommodate four children.
We glanced at each other, worried. We'd never been apart. I asked Mami where she would go? She struggled to find the words. She reminded us she worked 24 hours a day as a home health aid in the Bronx. She would be saving as much as possible, so we'd all be living together before the start of the school year. I suddenly felt very small, cold, sad. I missed my father. When I asked about calling Papi, she said we'd have to wait until she came back--calling centers were already closed, there was no long distance calling in anyone's apartment.
When my mother came to see us the following weekend, she made good on her promise. We traipsed to the nearest calling center--a series of tempered glass covered walls with a tiny compartment that hardly fit two of us along with Mami, a phone that had no buttons, no rotary dial. When it was my turn to speak, I stepped up ready. I'd been paying attention--practicing how I would describe all that was new. But when I held the phone, all preparations flew out the window. I found myself shy and embarrassed.
Que te pasa, Papi said, knowing I was quiet on the other side. I told him I was scared I'd never learned English, that I'd never be let into any school. Then, I quickly remembered what I'd been practicing, and like a gorge falling apart, I told him all about our new life, the plentitude, but the sadness that hovered over everything with so much missing him. All in all it was only a couple of minutes, but with his laughter, and his sighs, I suddenly had the power of collapsing space. He and I were near each other, and Mami, who was listening nearby wiped away a tear. Even my siblings quieted down as if with my words we'd all been reunited, together for a precious moment.
This, then, was the day I realized I'd arrived at my true calling which from then on would be found among words.
-- Cleyvis Natera
Please email and welcome Cleyvis to the book club: [email protected]
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
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