Rains
of
AugustToday, like every year on my birthday, it’s raining. Mila says “Ay, Gemma” looking out the window. I stand beside her. The rain is cool and so clear I wish I could hold my face up to it. Mila sits on the bed. I step away from the window and the curtain drops.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to play any games.” Mila pulls me to her so I’m standing against the bed, her knees in my back. The rough skin on her arms rubs against my shoulders. She smells of kalamansi and Dial soap. Clean. I wonder if she has been squeezing kalamansi for juice. “What will you do for your party?” Mila asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Stand up straight,” she says and pushes on my shoulder blades. She pulls the comb through my hair.
“Ow!” I try to turn around but Mila holds me in place. “It hurts,” I tell h
