Uncle Ray pulled my dad into the sitting room, snapped his fingers for all the little cousins to go find another place. It was the start of summer, and it was hot. Everywhere you looked somebody was pulling clothing away from their sticky body. Wiping sweat before it reached their eyes. Tina and Marie chased gramma’s new cat into the yard. Skinny Pedro gave a long face but flipped off the TV and disappeared. Little Sammy tugged at his shorts and just stood there. Nobody noticed him. I got something to tell you brother, Uncle Ray said. It happened yesterday. I turned twenty-five more than a week ago. Shit, it’s been almost ten years now. But it’s still clear in my head. How I knew every word Uncle Ray would say before he said it. The women in the kitchen making things with their hands. Moving around in a way only they understood. The smell of fresh tortillas and chile con carne. The different laughs coming from the yard. It was the Fourth of July and I was fifteen. My face had pimples, and when I walked into a room I felt the burn of everybody’s eyes.

Everything is different now; we’ve all traveled a million miles. Uncle Ray’s locked up. Gramma’s long been gone. But I still remember the details. My dad sitting with his feet up in the corner chair. Me sitting behind the door listening to every word. Uncle Ray lighting a joint, taking the first hit and then passing it to my dad.

I just finished mowing gramma’s lawn when Uncle Ray swung by. A big construction job had paid off and the next days meat was on him. He was large in the doorway. All the little cousins’ favorite because he was strong and had a new girl every holiday. Gramma told him where to go and what to buy. And take Danny with you, Ray, she said. 

He came at me with some fake jabs and a left. Let’s go, little man, he said, and we were out the door. 

His Bronco was running. Music thumping. This is Tim and Rico, he said to me. And this is my big brother’s kid right here, he said to them. Then we got into the whole hand-shaking thing. I took a seat in the back with Rico. Tim and Uncle Ray were up front. These were serious looking dudes, the kind Uncle Ray always ran with. And I liked being along for the ride.

So I’m pretty much just sitting there in the back, keeping quiet. Listening to stories. Rico jumped right in about how he got messed over by some girl he met in a bar. The bitch begs me to come home with her, he said, and then turns around and throws me out in the street. What kinda sense does that make? Rico’s hands were up in the air. 

Uncle Ray put eyes on him in the rearview, Come on man, what’d you do? He shook his head, looked at Tim. I know this motherfucker had to done somethin. 

Nuthin, Rico said back. I didn’t do nuthin. 

Tim whipped his head around and stared at Rico, You gonna sit here and tell us you didn’t do nuthin? 

Rico wiped his hand down his face slow. I was just being straight with her man. He looked out the tinted window at a stoplight. Watched a fine Mexican chick in a souped up Honda Civic, reach over and kiss her man until the light turned green. She asked me if I thought she was fat and I told her. I mean, I like my girls thick. You guys know that. I told her that. But I also told her she could trim down a little in the abdominal area. We all erupted in laughter. I just told her what’s up, Rico added with a straight face. The bitch got all crazy on me. Cussin and shit. The whole thing. Then she threw me in the street. I was laughing my ass off. Rico slapped at the air in disgust. I thought I was gonna hit it for sure, he said. Uncle Ray was pounding on the steering wheel. Tim started saying how Rico was always getting thrown out of people’s houses.

But then everything turned on me. You ever get your shit off little man? Rico said. Leave his ass alone Rico, my Uncle Ray jumped in. That’s my big brother’s kid. 

But then Tim added his part. Come on Ray, he said, turning around, it’s just a question. How old are you anyway, little bro? 

I told them I was fifteen. I told them no, I hadn’t been with a girl yet. Then I told them about the couple times I came close with some girl down the street named Suzanne. How she’d invited me over when her parents were gone. How we took all our clothes off and did stuff to each other. How when it came down to it she got all scared and backed out. They made me go way into all the details. They loved hearing about this shit. At some point I remember running out of real encounters, and had to start making things up.

After a couple hits each, Uncle Ray started in to my dad. I ran over some guy yesterday. It was crazy. He took a long drag and let it sit for a while. Then he blew it out. Little Sammy placed a ball in Uncle Ray’s lap, which he tossed into the back yard. Little Sammy went after it like a small dog and never came back. In the background you could hear the women laughing, having made fun of one of their husbands. The sun was now beating through the window, into the room. 

My cousin Tina spotted me from outside and mouthed, What are you doing? 

I put my finger to my lips. Later, I mouthed back. 

The smell of carne asada crept through the door and into the room. Covered us all like a lazy memory.

What are you talking about Ray? My dad asked.

I hit some guy with the Bronco, Uncle Ray said again.

So we’re just coming out of the deli with the meat, when there’s this crazy smack against Uncle Ray’s mirror. What the hell was that? Rico said. We all looked out the back window and saw some guy on a bike pedaling the other way, looking back at us. It was such a weird thing. The guy slapped the hell out of one of Uncle Ray’s side mirrors. 

Oh Hell no!

What the fuck? My Uncle Ray jerked the steering wheel to turn around. Tires scrapping against the asphalt. 

Oh hell no! Rico kept saying. 

It was almost sunset and the sky was warming up for the colors. Another car rolled by slowly. The driver turned to look. By the time we had completely turned around, the bike-guy had ditched his wheels and was walking toward us down the middle of the road.

Brother I’m telling you, Uncle Ray explained, the guy was walking straight toward my Bronco. He didn’t make much eye contact as he spoke. There had been episodes between them in the past. A few years back it got physical. Something to do with some cash Uncle Ray borrowed from my gramma. The women were screaming. The other uncles tried to break it up. Everything got so loud a neighbor called the cops. Uncle Ray placed the roach-clip in the ashtray. The last embers burned out.

My dad threw his hands up in the air, So what the hell happened? 

Uncle Ray looked up at him, I hit his ass. I wasn’t going fast or nuthin, but I smacked him.

My dad dropped his feet off the chair and sat up. Ray, man, you can’t keep . . . 

Uncle Ray stood up at this point. I know I know. I’m telling you cause Danny was in the car. We were just going to get . . . He turned his eyes to the ground. 

What? my dad yelled. 

Uncle Ray tried again, I wanted to tell you . . . 

Danny was in the fucking car? my dad yelled. 

You could feel all the little cousins freeze. The women continue moving their hands but now in silence. Uncle Ray reached for his hat. 

What’s wrong with you man? my dad yelled. 

It’s on me brother, Uncle Ray started, I just . . . 

You’re damn right it’s on you, my dad interrupted. Fuckin stupid motherfucker. Uncle Ray put his hat on his head, adjusted the bill. Fuck up your own life, my dad continued, but if you ever fuck with Danny’s . . . Then he stood up. They looked at each other. The vein in my dad’s neck. The tightness of his mouth. Uncle Ray was much bigger and younger. But there was more to it than that. I didn’t mean for it to happen, Uncle Ray said. I just . . . 

You’re always fucking up Ray, my dad yelled. His finger extended, almost touching Uncle Ray’s face. 

Look, Uncle Ray started, hands on his head, I brought you in here to tell you I messed up. I know I did. 

My dad punched the wall. I think I jumped when he did that. That’s my kid, he yelled. As they stood there you could see it in their faces. How one was a younger version of the other. The nose, the chin, the way they frowned. 

I messed up, Uncle Ray said. At that point he reached for his lighter and backed up. He looked at my dad for a second while he put the lighter in his pocket. Then he left the room and went straight to his Bronco. He started it up and took off.

And that’s where Uncle Ray left it. I wasn’t surprised at what he left out. I was expecting it. It was tough to know what would piss off my dad.

So here’s this guy walking toward us down the middle of the road. My Uncle Ray guns it straight at him after he’s turned around. Tim’s up front trying to talk him out of it. Stop Ray, he kept saying, I know you too good Ray. Stop the car. 

Rico's in the back getting off on the whole thing. Hit that motherfucker Ray, hit him.

Everybody spoke quietly over dinner. The little cousins sitting up straight. Gramma bringing out the different meats one at a time. The clinking of spoons and forks against plates. Glasses being set back down. And nobody asked what it had been all about. 

My Uncle Ray ends up going right at him. SMACK. The guy’s head whips all forward. Then Uncle Ray hits the brakes and sends the guy flying like twenty feet. Ah yeah, Rico keeps yelling, Ah yeah. 

Later that night I would give my dad the same story Uncle Ray did. Leaving out the same details. Yeah, that’s it dad, I would say, I swear. Eventually he would leave me alone. 

After it was all over, they said the guy must have been on PCP, because he gets up off the ground like nothing and starts walking toward the Bronco again. What the hell? everybody kept saying. When he finally got to the side of the Bronco he was breathing all hard like some animal. He threw a slow right at my Uncle Ray, through the open window. But Uncle Ray ducked and grabbed his arm, pulled his torso into the cab. Then they all started wailing on him from every direction.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Blood was getting on everything. All on the windshield, the steering wheel, the vinyl seats. My face. Uncle Ray held him still in a headlock. They hit him in the face so many times that the sounds of the blows actually changed. They became muted because his cheeks were like mush. Rico pounded and pounded down with his fist. Tim slugged him again and again in the stomach. 

Eventually the guy stopped flailing and went limp. Or my Uncle Ray and his boys got tired. Whichever it was, Ray released his head and pushed him back out the window. The guy’s blood all over the place. Everybody yelling stuff at once. Let’s get out of here Ray. Let’s go, let’s go. But instead Uncle Ray put the car in reverse and calmly backed up. 

He turned the wheel slightly.

He rolled forward and ran over both the guy’s legs. 

You could hear and feel the bones crush and snap. 

The sound of our hearts rapping against our chests. 

It was all like a movie. Everybody yelling stuff at once. Voices so loud I couldn’t think. Rico kept yelling, Yeah motherfucker, yeah. I looked behind us through the back window. The guy was completely still and red. In the middle of the street. Like a big dog or something didn’t make it across. It was crazy. Uncle Ray slammed on the gas and we flew down the road fast. I kept looking back as they yelled stuff at each other. I watched the guy get smaller and smaller. Like a balloon in the sky, or the cars in the street when you take off in a plane. Like that I think. Until he was nothing but this bloody image left in my head.