Thank God for the Rain

After his father left to where ever he was going back to, Chente helped his mother out with the dishes. Side by side, they both rotate their roles of washing and drying without uttering a word to each other. The only thing that keeps them company is the soft sound of radio static and jazz music coming from the kitchen's small radio.

"I'm going to visit Martha when we're done" says Chente with an awkward expression on his face.

"That's fine" replies his mother.

Chente grabs his small radio from his room and makes his way outside to a red bicycle. He loads up the radio on the small basket that is in front of the bicycle. His mother comes outside and says to him, "Don't take too long, you got work tomorrow. "

"I have work everyday mom, I think I will be fine. Anyways, I'll only say hello and leave" with a smirk says Chente.

He races down a dirt road while blasting his radio.

" You are tuning in to the evening night lights with Frank "Goodie" Hamilton on 1010 AM KCHJ, the first record we are going to play for the program is Donovan, "Season of the Witch" released 1966! Two years seem like a long time ago but we are only getting older ladies and gentleman, not any younger! That would be nice. But I already look like a used tire so maybe it wouldn't be that great."

Chente laughs at the lame joke and begins to cruise with the song playing. The dirt road begins to lead into the rural part of the town where all you can see is strawberry fields for miles and miles. He thinks to himself that he is going to be there tomorrow, working in the fields, in the very, very hot sun.

He starts to wonder why out of all the fruits, he had to pick strawberries. He hates everything about them. The smell, the nasty spots on them, the horrible texture in his hands. However, he starts to notices how peaceful they are at night when no one is trying to pick them. They don't have to worry about anything.

Just strawberry companions side by side with their fate already decided, to be eaten. Although it can be a horrible fate, they have everything planned out for them, nothing has to be decided. The idea of not choosing his future wrapped Chente's mind in comfort like a warm blanket. What else do they have to do, they have no obligations. Those lucky strawberries.

Suddenly the bright flash of a car's headlights turn on in the darkness of the fields. It zooms pass Chente and scares him, causing him to fall off of his bicycle. As the car flies pass by Chente, a can is thrown out of the car hitting Chente and getting contents of the can on his shirt.

"Watch where you're fucking going, you fucking..." Chente yells out to the car but he gets no response. He just hears the sound of excited laughing and screaming coming from the car as it drives away. Chente just watches as the shiny black chevy fleet line hauls ass in to the night, then the headlights turn off. At the moment he realizes that whoever is driving that car are a bunch of assholes that are just trying to scare people.

Chente lifts up his shirt and it reeks of alcohol.

"Those fucking Güeros" he mutters to himself. Chente picks himself up and dust himself off. His white pants that he was wearing got dirty and he yells to himself, "Fucking Güeros! My pants". He picks up his bike and he can hear that his radio got dirt in the amp causing the sound to become distorted. But at this point he realizes that there is no point to get mad, at least he didn't get token out by the car.

"I'm your host Frank "Goodie" Hamilton and you are tuned into 1010 AM KCHJ, the next song is a request from an Andrew Kemper to his sweetheart, Debra Goodwin. Here is, "My special Angel" from Booby Helms."

Chente finally arrives to Martha's house. Her house is noticeably more lavished than his. It is a two-story house with nice cars parked outside compared to Chente's one-story home with a dirt driveway with the only thing parked outside is his bike.

He picks up little rocks and begins to throw them at a window. The window creaks open, trying to stay quiet as possible. Martha's long, curly brown hair leaks out from the window sill.

"Martha!", yells out Chente.

"Shh...", Martha signals with her hand.

"Sorry! Martha!", he silently yells.

"What!", Martha silently yells back with a smile.

"Come down, let's go for a ride", says Chente.

She raises her hand and extends her index finger to signal for him to wait, she closes the window and goes somewhere. "What a dime", Chente thinks to himself.