Eduardo ​Muñoz

WC: 3090

Tongue Tied

“Do you think I like being here dad? It fucking sucks because you can’t understand me

and I can’t talk to you, because I don’t know Spanish, except a few words,” I say, waving my

arms in the air. “It’s stupid because you or mom didn’t teach me again after ESOL, and I don’t

even know if I’m really Mexican,” I tell dad all of this while I’m on a lift, looking down at him.

I'm so pissed at him right now.

“Hijo, mira, bájate de allí porque no sé de qué mierda estás llorando. Bájese antes de

lastimarse porque claramente, todavía no sabes cómo trabajar. Tal vez sea porque eres huevon y

a lo mejor es mi culpa pensando que podrías trabajar1,” Dad says.

“Carajo.2 Fine,” I say. I have no idea what he just told me, except ‘son’ and ‘get down

from there.’ Right now we're at his job site too, doing construction for some store, and I think I

pissed him off real good.

I really wished that ​cabrón3 spoke more English though. Maybe then he could understand

me. And why the hell is he talking to me like that? I’m his kid. It doesn’t feel like it though. It

feels more like if mom actually sent me to live with a stranger, a thing she would say to shut me

up whenever I would cry in stores; but that's not me anymore.

1
"Son, look, get out of there because I do not know what the fuck you're crying about. Get off before you hurt
yourself because clearly, you still do not know how to work. Maybe it's because you're lazy or maybe it's my fault
thinking you could work.”
2
​Fuck.
3
​Spanish for “asshole.”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 2

I get to dad’s level, and I just go past him and the doors to sit in the car outside. It's good

to get away from there and be somewhere else to cool off. I forget we’re in Florida, and it’s hot

as hell. I try to turn on the A/C, but I don’t have the keys. I don’t know if I should go back to ask

dad for them after all of that; that would be awkward. I reach inside my pocket for some cash,

and it turns out I got like five bucks to spare. I don’t think there aren't any stores nearby. It's

completely empty in this parking lot.

Hmm, I don’t think I see—wait there’s a store there. Dope. I don’t think dad would care,

and I don’t think the other workers would remind him he has a son. Speaking of which, why

can’t they call me by name instead of güero4. Like my name isn’t that hard to say, Gael. Guy-El.

Like Superman’s name, Kal-El. But they wouldn’t know that. I get out of the car and start

walking to the store.

“God, it’s so fucking hot,” I say.

I don’t even know why I’m still wearing my hard hat. It’s not like I worked anyway. I

just tried to drive a lift for the first time. It’s not like I crashed into the walls or anything, but dad

had to be a prick, and the one time I tried to help he just started yelling at me for helping him!

Who does that? I don't care. He's an ass.

Wait, I'm already here? The store looked further than I thought. Ah shit, they aren’t open

yet. It’s 8:55, and they open at 9, and I need something to drink.

“Hey! Anyone here! I’m dying. I need some Gatorade!” I yell at the door.

A woman walks up to the door, and she just points at the sign.

4
​A word that refers to someone with light skin or someone with blond hair.
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 3

“Ah buenos días señor. Lo siento, pero abrimos en unos cinco minutos. Solo espera aquí

y te dejaremos entrar.5”

Ah shit, it’s a Mexican store. Just my luck. I just nod my head and say “Okay.” That’s

like my go-to response if I don’t know what people are saying.

I wish Aldo were here. ​But he won’t be back home for a while since he’s off doing some

cool military stuff like in the movies like training or shooting baddies. I miss him. He would be

my personal translator for everything, like whenever I wanted McDonald’s, or Legos, or some

Boing!6. You know, the good stuff. Man, now I want some Boing!. Maybe mango or guava.

Mmm, mango sounds so good right now.

The lady comes back and opens the door for me.

“Hola otra vez, lo siento por la espera. Si necesitas ayuda, voy estar aquí7,” she says.

“Okay,” I say, hoping that was the right thing to say.

The walls are brown and orange-ish, and I see that they got the Mexican colors up in the

air. The aisles are super tall, and it’s a pretty small space to get through. Oh shit, they got pinatas

too! Damn, now I want some candy, but it’ll probably melt. Looks like the drinks are probably in

the back.

Ah, it’s so cold back here. If I could sleep here, I would. Now, where are you? Jarritos,

nah. Jumex, gross. Wait, are you serious? They don’t have any mango flavored Boing!8. Damnit.

“Buenos días. ¿Estás buscando algo?9” Another guy walks up to me. He looks like he

works here with that green apron he’s got; plus the name tag gives it away, Diego.

5
​Oh good morning sir. I'm sorry, but we open in about five minutes. Just wait here and we'll let you in.
6
​An Hispanic soft drink brand
7
​“Hello again, sorry for the wait. If you need help, I’ll be here.”
8
​Boing! and Jarritos are Hispanic soft drinks brands
9
​“Good morning. You looking for anything?”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 4

“No. ​Estoy bein. ​Gracias.10” I mumble the words because I think that means ‘I’m doing

good,’ but I don’t want to look stupid.

“Okay,” he says.

And off he goes back to whatever he was doing. Damn, I really wished someone could

help me out. “Ahh, I guess I’ll just get a guava flavor then.”

I get to the check-out lane, and I see the woman who opened the door earlier.

"Hola, ¿encontraste todo lo que buscabas?11" she says.

“Hola,” I tell her. I accidentally let out a sigh.

“No?” She looks at me like I lost my parents in the store. “Bueno, ¿Qué es lo que estabas

buscando? Puedo preguntar a Diego si lo tenemos.12”

I just shake my head no and wave my hands. I think she’s asking me why or something,

but I just want to get out of there before I cause a scene.

“¿Seguro?13” she says.

I just push the drink to her to make things easier. I take out my cash too, so she knows

I’m buying it.

“Ah, finally. I can breathe and drink my — fuck!” I forgot to open the glass bottle.

I go back inside, and I just point at the bottle cap.

She looks at me and understands. Thank god.

10
​“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
11
"​Hello, so did you find everything you were looking for?"
12
​“Well, what are you looking for? I can ask Diego if we have it.”
13
​“Sure?”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 5

It’s a nice feeling drinking guava while the sun melts your skin. I don’t want to finish it

all before I get to the car. I want to chill inside, so I’ll just go back and get the keys, and that’s

that, but I wonder how the other guys are handling working inside that empty store.

I’m not even sure what the hell came out of me when I yelled at dad. It’s like ever since

ESOL, I’ve been losing Spanish and it’s hard saying the words, and if I say them wrong, mom

and dad will just get mad and start yelling, but at least mom is trying to learn English by listening

to the radio. Dad on the other hand, well he’s normally out of state working, so he’s never home.

Mom thought it was a perfect punishment to send me out to work with dad since I got suspended

for calling Mr. Henderson a “cunt.” He was being a dick about me possibly failing and talking

about it with other students. I pretty much said fuck it and called him out. Anyway, mom said

dad would show me just how important an education is since he dropped out when he was a kid,

which is weird ‘cause it’s like if Aldo was trying to teach me how to fire a gun but he’s shot

himself before. I don’t understand why mom chose dad for teaching me how school is important,

but so far I’m out here barely working and drinking guava juice. I prefer this than school though.

I’m back at the job site, but I don’t see the car. Hmm.

I go inside, only to see Miguel and Enrique, dad’s co-workers. Miguel tells me, “Yea, jur

dad. He um he look for ju.” He pulls out his phone and calls him. Dad is gonna be pissed.

Now I’m here waiting for his worried ass with an almost empty bottle of juice. I was

supposed to chill in the car but guess that won’t be happening.

I see his car pull up and he gets out, only to slam the keys in my chest.

“Hey watch it,” I say.

 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 6

“Quedate allí14,” dad says. He says it without even turning around.

I just want to punch him sometimes. I want to go back home too. I let out a sigh and go to

the driver’s seat. I turn the A/C on and finish what's left of my drink. There's nothing to do here,

so I pull out my phone and try to look for the aux cord. The car's got receipts, leftovers, tools,

crumbs, and clothes all over the place, so hopefully it still works if I find it. And I found it. My

hand is sticky and I don't even want to know from what.

I pull out my phone and check my playlist. What do I want to listen to? What am I in the

mood for? Jay-Z? Nah. The Lonely Island? Not now. Alicia Keys? Not in the mood. I need

something else. What can​ I—wait! Found it! Let me get my imaginary drum sticks ready. And

Arctic Monkeys here we go:

BOM BOM BOM.

BOM BOM BOM.

BOM BOM BOM.

BOM BOM BOM.

The car is booming with guitars and drums, making the whole car shake. I smash all the

cymbals and snares, and my foot is thumping the bass drum. I can never understand what he's

singing, he's just too damn fast, except for this part coming up. I get ready to sing.

14
​“Stay there.”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 7

The best you ever had.

The best you ever had

is just a memory and those dreams

Not as daft as they seem, and as daft as they seem

My love, when you dream them up . . .

Flicking through a little box of sex tips15—

“GAEL!”

I see dad hitting the window. If it was someone else, I think they would have thought I

was having crazy sex by how hard the truck was shaking. I hit pause, and everything is quiet

again. Damnit dad.

He opens the passenger door and says, “¿Qué estás haciendo?16”

I just look at him, because I don’t know what to say.

“No puedes ba—” he sighs. “¿No puedes bajar la ​música? Ya merito vamos ir a lunch.17”

I pick up a few words, and I understand he’s telling me to turn it down.

“Okay.”

So after he leaves, I just slump in my chair, thinking of how Aldo showed me that song.

Mom and dad were having this huge fight at home, and Aldo took me for a ride. I was telling

him how I thought they were fighting over who’s to blame for raising me, some tongue-tied

disappointment. He really didn’t know what to say, and he knew that his music would cheer me

up, so he just blasted it, and then this song came up when we were driving over a bridge. The

15
​Arctic Monkeys, “Fluorescent adolescent” 2007.
16
​“What are you doing?”
17
“​Can’t you.” “Can’t you turn down the music? We’re about to go to lunch.”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 8

windows were down, and the winds were blowing in my face, and I felt, good, complete. I don't

know how else to explain it, but everything felt right. Everything felt ok. I miss him.

But he’s not here, so I have to take care of myself. I turn to look over, and they still

weren't out. I’m mad hungry, so I press the horn a couple of times to get their assses movin’.

I see dad and Enrique walking so slowly, while Miguel is running to the car, holding up

his pants. I'm hungry too, man. I get demoted to passenger, and off we go to get food; probably

Mexican since that's all dad ever craves.

After ten minutes of driving, we're here at some place called Pepito's, and I'm starving.

We all sit down, and the lady passes us the menu. I flip through the pages to see the kids menu

since that's where the burgers and chicken nuggets are usually at. Mom doesn't like it when I

order that type of food, because I could get that at any fast food place, but I tell her that we eat

Mexican at home every day. She wouldn’t understand, and dad wouldn’t either. They wouldn’t

understand how I sometimes don't think I can even deserve the food, because I'm not fully

Mexican. I like American food better, I don’t watch soccer or play it, and I can barely speak

Spanish, so what am I? I'm more like a Great-Value-brand-type-of-Mexican, that’s what.

I look at all the other stuff on the menu though. There’s sopes, tortas, guaraches, tacos,

sopas, and aguas frescas18. This is a lot. I'll just stick with my chicken nuggets and fries. And an

agua de horchata19. I actually like that, so maybe I'm a hint of Mexican. Maybe.

The waitress comes and goes around the table for everyone's orders. When it's my turn, I

look at her, then I point at the picture of the chicken nuggets.

I hear dad say, “Mi hijo quiere eso20.”

18
​Different categories of Mexican foods and drinks
19
​A milky cinnamon rice beverage
20
​“My son wants that.”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 9

She picks up our menus and leaves. While we wait, I go to the bathroom so I won't have

to talk to dad. I just sit on the toilet for about five minutes or so, then I come back after taking

my “dump,” and the food is ready. I sit down, and I just look at my plate. The chicken nuggets

look stale, but the fries are thick. I wonder what dad is thinking. I hope he doesn't say anything

or yell. He starts laughing, and I quickly look up. He's laughing with Enrique and Miguel. I wish

I can laugh with him. You know, fit in and be a part of that.

After eating, we drive back to the job site, and off they go, back to work to get that bread.

I think it might be okay if I stay in the car. My dad didn't say anything on the ride back, so I blast

the cold air and close my eyes.

✻✻✻

I’m back at the Comfort Suites hotel we’re staying at. Dad and I hardly talked, like less

than usual (which is pretty much just him asking me how I’m doing), and that's weird because of

what happened today. I’m in my gym shorts and t-shirt in the living room, trying to log on to our

Netflix account, and I forgot what email we use. I’m debating if I should text Aldo (which he

probably won’t even have a signal over God knows where) or if I should just make a new

account with dad’s credit card.

As I think, I’m looking around the living room. This is pretty big for a hotel room now

that I think about it. We got a balcony past the living room and the kitchen, two bedrooms, and a

bathroom. I don’t know what room Miguel and Enrique got, but we’re living in a five-star room!
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 10

The only thing that sucks is that we’re an hour away from the beach, and I don’t think

we’ll have time to go. I really want to go. I like swimming. I think it might have been dad or

grandpa, but someone threw me in the water when I was just a baby, and I just started doggy

paddling. It’s like I got some dog genes inside me. It’s quiet in here, and I’m starting to hear this

weird noise.

It sounds like someone’s crying. It could be Miguel or Enrique, but they don’t look like

cryers. I can’t imagine either of them crying. I giggle at the thought of that. I wonder if it’s dad.

I try to not make any sounds stepping closer to dad’s door. It’s closed, and I slowly lean

in, almost touching the door with my ear. Damn. I didn’t think dad would actually be crying. I

try to listen.

“Mire, no sé qué hacer con ese niño. Casi nunca estoy en casa y solo la idea de perder a

mi hijo me da miedo. Esto podría haber sido una mala idea. Sí, sí. Si entiéndo eso. Pero Lorena,

escucha21,"

Oh shit, he said mom’s name. Are they talking about me?

“¿Y si nos​ equivocamos al criarlo?​ Sabes, tu papá tenía razón. Quizás deberíamos

mandar a Gael a México si no se comporta. Bueno, ¿tienes alguna otra idea?22”

Oh shit he said my name too!

I don’t want to get caught, so I try to quickly go back to the couch without making a

sound. I don’t remember dad ever crying, except for when grandpa died. That was hard seeing

dad like that. This must be serious then. Maybe grandma is dying. Oh no. No. Maybe. They said

21
“Look, I don’t know what to do with that kid. I’m hardly ever home and just the thought of losing my son scares
me. This might have been a bad idea. Yea, yea. Yeah, I get that. But Lorena, listen”
22
​“What if we messed up raising him? You know, your dad had a point. Maybe we should send Gael to Mexico if
he doesn’t behave. Well, do you have any other ideas?”
 Muñoz​ / Tongue Tied / 11

my name, so it’s got to be someone close. Or maybe they’re talking about me, and there is

something wrong with me. Maybe they don’t want me anymore ‘cause I can’t talk with them.

They probably think I’m a disappointment. But I don’t wanna go. I want to stay at home. I want

to live my life. I want to do crazy shit. I want a pet fox. I want to hold on to that fox and call him

Wes. I want him to love me. Fuck. I don’t like this. I wanna go home. I wanna disappear. I hate

being the black sheep. Ah shit, I’m crying. I’m crying, and I can’t stop. I want Aldo. I want

mom.

I hear dad get up, and he opens his door. He wipes his eyes and rushes to me.

“​Gael, ¿qué pasó? ¿Por qué estás llorando? Dime23.”

I want to tell him I’m scared. That I feel alone when I’m with him and mom. I want to tell

him I’m sorry for being a bad son. I want to tell him that somehow a fox will make me happy. I

try to think of the Spanish word for fox.

“Pa, quiero...24” Fuck, what is it? I remember learning it. “Pa, ​Quiero una25,” I can feel my

tongue shaking. “Quiero una zorra26.27”

Dad didn’t say anything. He’s just looking at me, which is making me feel worse.

I hope I said the right word.

But he just starts laughing. Then I start laughing.

Maybe my dreams aren’t as daft as they seem.

23
“​Gael, what happened? Why are you crying? Tell me.”
24
​“Dad, I want”
25
​“Dad I want a”
26
​“I want a bitch.”
27
​The Spanish word for fox is “zorro” or “zorra,” but “zorra” can also mean a bitch or a prostitute.