Infirmary
I didn't have to wait lying down for long. In less than 15 minutes, I heard my aunt's heels outside in the hallway; a sign that she had finished signing the authorization and the permission so that we could leave school without problems.
"We can go home now, sweetheart," my aunt said with a smile.
To which I, hesitantly, simply nodded while standing up and heading toward her. Once I was in front of her, I realized that I barely reached her waist or the height of her belly button. As soon as I was close, I had to lift my head to see her face. My aunt is Colombian; she came here as soon as she turned 21 with a suitcase and dreams to fulfill. Too bad that, just like my mom, she ended up crashing against the invisible wall that is reality. Currently, she is a stylist in a neighborhood hair salon and lives in the apartment next to the one where I live with my mom.
My aunt is an attractive woman even to the blindest man and she knows it; she has a curvilinear and voluptuous figure and sun-bronzed skin. If I had to describe her physically, I would say she has a certain air of Sofia Vergara. I always wondered why she never married someone; suitors were never lacking, she was practically the queen of the street. Men would line up at the hair salon just for her to cut their hair and to be able to share a few words with her.
Returning to reality, with a quick glance I calculated that I was around 4 ft (1.22 m), something that seemed unusual to me since I remembered that I had never reached being that tall at this age. I could practically pass for a 7 or 8-year-old child and people would believe it. Discarding that thought, I assumed that I was simply too small to remember that detail. I mean, who knows for sure how much you measure each year?
Taking my aunt's hand, we headed to the school door on the way to the station at 71st Ave. heading toward Jamaica. After a short 5-minute walk entering the station, I could finally perceive the unique and unmistakable smell of the New York subway, the system without which more than half of the city's population could not live.
71st Ave. Subway Station
Even though I swore never to use this transport again in my past life, a slight smile appeared at the corner of my mouth. I could never forget everything I saw and heard about the subway; all those urban legends and the strange people you can find there make the subway something singular and unique. Especially with the rats that live in every station. If we humans are the largest population in the city, the rats are easily the second. You can't even walk an entire block without bumping into one on the corner or running in the middle of the street.
Suddenly, I laugh remembering the time when I bravely decided to adopt one as a pet. That happened in my previous life, when I was 13 years old (in 2008). My mom never let us have a dog, claiming it is a great responsibility and that there was no space in the apartment. In those times, I remember I was a big fan of cartoons, especially the one about four Ninja Turtles and their master, a rat who was a great master of martial arts.
So, that day I went to the subway station to look for my future pet and I saw a white rat in the middle of a trash can looking for something to eat. Once the target was located, I designed the strategy to capture it. With some candy in my pocket and an old box I found to the side, I designed a small trap. Minutes later, I saw how the rat lifted its head and began to smell its surroundings until it observed the candy on the ground and stealthily approached directly to my trap.
As soon as I saw it beginning to gnaw the candy, I pounced with the box in hand and somehow I managed to capture it. Such was my excitement that I felt like in that cartoon about a boy with a cap who travels with a yellow mouse capturing other creatures to fight. I shouted: "Capture achieved!", which was a mistake, because I saw how the people around me looked at me as if I were another one of the crazies who live in the station. With a face red from shame, I ran with the box in hand without looking back.
Once far from the station and back in the building, I remembered the last movie we watched with my mom about a panda learning kung fu from a master. Then a thought crossed my mind: "From now on your name will be Master Shifu...".
I entered the apartment with a smile: "Mom, look what I found! The new member of the family," I said excitedly. My mom came out of the hallway with a tired smile: "What is it, honey?" "The new member of our family." I brought the box close to her face and, suddenly, a white head came out of it.
Pandemonium broke out. My mom threw the box with a horrified scream and the rat shot out toward the door. My aunt was coming out of her apartment with a broom in her hand and, as soon as she saw the rat, she gave it a forceful blow. That was when I saw my first pet die. I could only say: "R.I.P. Master Shifu…".
After that came one of the longest monologues about the danger of rats, followed by hospital visits and painful injections. Remembering all that now, I laughed, which made my aunt ask: "What's so funny?". To which I simply replied: "It's nothing." Then a comfortable silence settled in while we waited for the train to arrive at our destination.
Author's thought
Hey guys, new chapter! What do you think of Aaron's story so far? Do you like it? If so, leave your comments so I know your opinions and if there's anything you'd like me to improve about the story.