Bangla Village Bathroom

"Thanks, so do you." But I'm damn sure she knew that already. "So, where are we going?" "I promised you some dancing right?" I took her to Fuego, this real, live reggaeton club, that I liked. We spent most of the night grinding to Pit Bull, Kat DeLuna, and Daddy Yankee. Later we went to the upper house where she taught me to salsa, bachata, and meringue. After we left I took her to one of my favorite spots, it used to be a playground, now it was just a wide open space where you could see every star in the sky. "Jay, its beautiful up here, how'd you find this place?" "This is part of my story," I replied. She looked puzzled at first, then understanding crept across her face, "Tell me more." "I used to live in those apartments at the bottom of the hill, until my folks got divorced," I continued, "now I live with my mom in Newstrom and my dad lives on the west side with his new wife." I looked away, it always hurt to talk about my dad. "Jay, I'm sorry you didn't--" "Its fine," I. ." Celeste started"Shut up and look at these," Tracey snapped. Mouth open at her daughter's unprecedented impertinence, Celeste reached shakily for the envelope Tracey had slid across the table. It could not contain anything good, her instincts told her."I have not seen the pictures and I do not want to. I want to preserve some of the respect I once had for you," Tracey said, following the script exactly.What followed had not been anticipated. Celeste pulled the first picture part way out of the envelope, shrieked, and ran from the room. She let the envelope drop to the table, and all five pictures spilled out. Tracey could not help catching brief, disgusting glimpses before forcibly closing her eyes and turning away.She decided to follow her mother, although nothing had been rehearsed for that situation. Predictably, Celeste was sprawled on her bed, sobbing. Rather than pity, Tracey felt a wave of anger."Mother, I did not want to look at those filthy pictures. You spilled them all.
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