Puñetazos by Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith
My Abuelo said, “Pepino Cuevas hits como un burro.”
My Abuelo’s fists were full mugs of lager at the cantina. When Duran
said, “No mas” in the fight against Sugar Ray Leonard, my
Abuelo shook his head and whispered, “que pendejo.”
That was the first time I heard him cuss, even when
Cuevas buckled onto the canvas.
In the summers he ate apricots off the tree, made his own salsa
flavored like a mariachi band playing at la
playa. He listened to old Jorge Negrete
ballads when his sons were not around.
Every Sunday he attended 7:00 AM
mass. In his pocket he carried a small cloth
bag of herbs. (Gotta cover todos los bases). He brewed his
own root beer; took me and my hermano
across the line for haircuts where his friends teased him
about our blue eyes and guero hair. He reminded
them of the new world and always laughed at their stories
about their sons-in-laws not knowing how to change the car’s
oil or falling off the ladder when they tried to paint the roof’s trim.
My brother and I could not follow his puñetazos as he worked
over his boxer’s speed bag in the back yard. He created
a beat and rhythm every afternoon that dismissed his rage.
His arms were pistons. His shoulders were girders holding
up bridges and protecting the arroyos.
The sound was epic, a crescendo of precision.
He insisted on frijoles con each meal. He sold shoes
from a catalogue for a side job, and lost his right eye at work
when a white-hot ember flew under his face mask.
He was welding wheel frames on freight cars for Southern Pacific.
For six weeks he hardly moved, doctor’s orders. The procedure
failed. Later he had knee surgery from a fall at work.
He got five dollars a month while he recovered.
Pendejos.
Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith was born in Merida, Yucatan, grew up in Tucson, Arizona and taught English at Tucson High School for 27 years. Much of his work explores growing up near the border, being raised biracial/bilingual and teaching in a large urban school where 70% of the students are American/Mexican. A Pushcart nominee, his writings will appear in Drunk Monkeys, Barbar Literary Journal and have been published in Sky Island Journal, Muse, Discretionary Love and other places too. His wife, Kelly, sometimes edits his work, and the two cats seem happy.