Mami Vicky

by Stephanie

Sitting at the table with Mami Vicky.  I am finishing my coffee as she sits with a plate of fried plantain and chicken in front of her.

“Usted conoce Arenal?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, eyes not leaving the plantain in her hands.

“Quiere conocerlo?”

There is a long pause, during which she mashes some chicken and plantain together in her fingers.  As she watches those fingers, a grin slowly spreads across her face.

“Cuando van?” she smiles at me.