Dud and I have always been extremely close. More than merely siblings, we're best friends. And even though I'm younger than she is, people often think I'm the eldest of the two; I've always played the role of protective older brother. No two people could be more different than my sister and me. She's funny, vivacious, optimistic, full of life; an extrovert. She's a cuddly people person, and one of the greatest sources of light in my otherwise dreary life. Me? I'm the realistic, sardonic pessimist of the family. The quiet lone hermit with too much intelligence and not enough emotion. If anyone thinks I'm a people person, fuckin' think again. I merely tolerate people, Dud embraces them. I've always told her she's too nice and stupid for her own good. Our mother fondly calls us her "d�a y la noche." Toty is, of course, her bright sunny day: bouncing full of warmth and brilliant rays. Her temper is like the sun at midday, too. She flares up real quick. I'm 'Ama's night: serene, dark, and rather cold. My sister is the sun, I am the moon. My mother couldn't be more proud, she says, and neither could I. My sister and mother are the greatest sources of joy in my life; I'd die without them, and will go to any measures to protect them. I am, after all, the man of the family, have been since my ass of a father ceased to be. Nothing pains me more than to see them in pain, hear them in pain, know they hurt, dammit.

Toty called me at two o'clock, sobbing. I could barely understand her through her tears. Instantly, I cursed the distance between us; how the fuck am I supposed to protect my Totita when she's so far away? But I did my best, keeping my voice cold and calm as I always do, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and trying to be reassuring. She, on the other line, was venting out her frusterations of life as a young unprepared mother with an irresponsible husband she's seriously considering leaving. I wanted to fly across all the miles between us and be there next to her in her lone apartment, and just hold her. It broke my heart to hear her cry, knowing there was no one there to hold her, cradle her and rock her back and forth. It was three o'clock in the morning in New Jersey when she called, and her husband was still not home. When we hung up just now, he had yet to come home. And it's now nearly five o'clock over there. Asshole. How dare he do this shit to my sister?! Fucker's damn lucky I'm stuck here in Texas, or I'd've kicked his ass by now. What the fuck do I care if he's twice my size? (Mexicans are relatively short compared to Dominicans.) If I can punch a hole through a wall, I can damn punch one through his fuckin' gut. Pinche guey pendejo. I don't think I need to state that I've never liked the guy. Shit like this don't help him much. As my little Totita cried herself to silence on the phone, I imagined her there, alone, with her baby, my little Angel, and I could smell her all over again: her overly bushy chestnut hair that catches the sun like gold whenever she leans against my shoulder for comfort. In my heart, I wrapped my arms around her and held her close... I wanted to weep with her. But no, I'm the tough one, I gotta be. I told her to give me two weeks. I'll have the money to fly her outta that hellhole by then. She sniffled and said she'd think about it; I know she hates to depend on people. She likes to be free, like the dancing sun rays that shimmer on wet grass in the morning. And this culero's taken that from her: he's left her with nothing of her own except her tiny baby boy, who is my new source of inspiration. I need to be a good role model so my nephew will grow up to be a good man someday.