THERE ONCE WAS A BOY named Trey. Actually he was named Antonio, as were his father and grandfather.
“Tu eres el tercer Antonio – el numero tres,” his grandmother said to him. “You are the third Antonio. Number three.”
So everyone called him Trey, regardless of whether they were speaking English or Spanish to him.
He was a quiet, soft-spoken child who loved to read, to listen to stories his grandmother and the women told when they met at her home on Sundays, and to be with his mother who was young and beautiful but very sickly...
