All American Boy by William J. Mann

little boy through another room, stepping over a ripped bag of pretzels on the floor, with several of them ground into the green shag carpet. A thin gray-haired man is stretched out on a couch watching Wheel of Fortune . Beside him sits a Great Dane that growls when Regina enters. The volume on the television is very loud.
    â€œTurn that down,” Luz says, but the man ignores her. “I said, turn it down! ”
    The old man grunts, aiming the remote control at the TV. The volume subsides.
    â€œThis is my friend,” Luz tells him. “Mrs. Day. You know, Kyle’s aunt.”
    The man eyes her and laughs. Regina sees the look that Luz gives him. The old man just returns his gaze to the television set.
    â€œThis is my grandfather,” Luz says. “My father is at work.”
    In the kitchen the beans in the frying pan are starting to splatter, pop. Luz hurries over to the stove to lower the blue flame, and the bubbles in the beans die down. Now that Luz and Regina are in the kitchen, the old man turns the volume of Wheel of Fortune back up. “ I’d like to buy a vowel, please, Pat .” Luz just shakes her head.
    Regina sits down at the aluminum kitchen table. She glances around the room, from the paint-peeling walls to the cracked ceiling to the mousetraps beside the stove. Luz sighs, leaning against the sink. “Yes,” she says, “it is terrible.”
    Regina looks at her friend. “You’re not happy here, are you, Luz?”
    â€œI hate it. I hate Brown’s Mill. My father promised it would be nice here. Right by the river, just like our home in Puerto Rico, he said. But in Puerto Rico the river was clean enough to drink from. Here it is dark and gray, coming through those rotting factories.”
    The little boy, Jorge, has tottered into the room. He clings to Luz’s legs, staring his odd brown eyes over at Regina.
    â€œThis is my brother, Jorge,” Luz says.
    â€œHello, Jorge,” Regina says, reaching out her hand.
    â€œHe is retarded,” Luz tells her. “He is afraid of people.”
    But the little boy takes Regina’s hand nonetheless. The old woman smiles.
    Luz walks over to the stove and stirs the beans in the pot. “Kyle always promised me we would leave Brown’s Mill. When he got out of the service, we would move away.”
    â€œWell, I’d miss you if you left, Luz,” Regina says, still shaking the little boy’s hand, making him laugh.
    â€œThis town is dead,” Luz says. “Look at the buildings. Hunched down and bitter, facing not the sky but the earth.”
    â€œLuz wants to go ,” Jorge tells Regina suddenly.
    â€œGo where?” Regina asks.
    â€œJust go ,” Jorge says.
    Regina sighs, gently removing her hand from Jorge’s and looking once more around the kitchen. No curtains at the window, no bright yellow curtains as there were in Regina’s own kitchen. The linoleum floor is dull and scuffed, not shiny the way Regina keeps hers. There’s a puddle of water collecting under the refrigerator. It gives off a bad smell, not the clean scent of lemon Lysol that Regina’s used to.
    Luz slides some beans from the pan onto a plate for Jorge. He sits at the table and eats with his hands. His sister sits down now too, between Jorge and Regina.
    â€œWhen I was a girl,” Regina tells her, “I wanted to go, too. My sister and I actually ran away to the city. We sang at clubs. The Gunderson Sisters.”
    â€œYes, you’ve told me, Mrs. Day. I love picturing you as a singer.”
    Regina grins. She feels her cheeks push up into her face.
    â€œYes. I was a singer .”
    â€œI’ll bet you have a beautiful voice.”
    â€œOh, not anymore. Now it’s old and dry. But then …” She laughs a little. “Maybe then it was all right. We sang at a place called Heck’s. At night sometimes, right before I fall asleep, I can still hear the