At some point along the 5 Freeway, Oscar took an exit, approached a dirt road, and eventually reached the orchard.
“Welcome to Happy Crunch Almond Orchard.”
Keila let out a laugh. “Is that the name of our business? Did you come up with it?”
“What’s wrong with it?” asked Oscar, a bit insulted.
“It’s too funny. That’s all.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s so incredibly silly I love it.”
It was hard for Oscar to understand what he was feeling. How could he? Relief was a sensation as distant as undiscovered planets. He had imagined Keila erupting in anger, slapping him, biting him, kicking him, and pulling out his hair. He was willing to take the beating, a well-deserved one, but it didn’t come. Instead, she laughed. So, he chuckled hesitantly, got out of the SUV, and went around to open the door for her.
As they walked toward the rows of trees, he held her hand. She let him. How long had it been since they touched each other? Keila’s fingers felt long and bony in Oscar’s, and a sensation of warmth traveled all the way to his chest, making it heave. Forgiveness could not be attained so easily, not from Keila. But he recognized her reaction as a good start, so he gave her the grand tour around the property without letting go of her hand.
Just a few days before and against Aunt Belinda’s advice, he’d gotten a ninety-day credit from a loan shark at an obscene interest rate and hired a machine with an extended arm that was now clamped to a tree trunk and was vigorously shaking the almonds off the branches, leaving a wall-to-wall carpet of nuts on the ground.
“The pickup machine is coming next week to haul the almonds away. We could come back to watch, if you’d like. It’s the culmination of all our efforts.”
“Well, if Happy Crunch Almond Orchard is my business too, I should get involved, the girls should get involved. Have you told them? Am I the only one who’s been kept in the dark?”
“Only Pats knows, and only very recently.”
“That’s the next step. You have to tell them. Understand? You owe it to them. They need to get involved, even if it’s at the very end of the season.”
The very end, indeed, Oscar thought, but not just the end of the season. How was he going to tell Keila now that there might not be a future harvest, that they might lose the trees? One thing was his secret; the other was his failure.
Friday, September 16th
No sign of rain was the Weather Channel’s ominous message that morning. Oscar sat in his chair in front of the television, remote in hand, ready to fall headlong into climate-induced despair, when his phone chimed. A four-word text from Patricia appeared in the family group chat: “I am divorcing Eric.”
Sunday, September 18th
“Copycat,” was Claudia’s comment at the dinner table.
After Oscar lectured Patricia about the awful way she delivered her decision to divorce Eric (you don’t just text news as important as that), and after she explained herself (I was going to give you further details in person), she called for a family dinner to discuss the issue.
“I’m not being a copycat. It just so happens that the whole thing unraveled around the same time as your own marriages; I had to wait my turn,” said Patricia, a bit offended.
“And how are you feeling?” asked Olivia.
“I’m good. Eric and I are on the best terms. We decided to transition into another relationship, not sure what it’s going to be like, but a positive one for sure. In fact, he wants to talk to you. Hold on.”
She pulled out her cellphone and got Eric on the screen.
“Hi, everyone.” He waved his hand, smiling. Patricia panned her phone around the table so he could see her sisters and her parents.
“Hi, Eric. We’re all here talking about our divorce,” explained Patricia.
“Have you told them about the party?”
“Not yet. Go ahead.”
“Well, Patricia and I decided to host a party to announce our divorce,” said Eric. “A small one, just close friends and family. Can we have it at your place? We could rent a venue, but we really want to keep it intimate. Claudia, could you recommend a caterer?”
Had it been an audio call instead of a video call, Eric would have thought that he’d gotten disconnected, since no sound came out of anybody’s mouth.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” said Claudia, breaking the awkward silence. “Mom, is it okay for them to have their party here?”
Keila nodded with apparent discomfort.
“Of course, but I still don’t get why you kids want to get divorced if you’re so amicable.”
“‘Amicable’ is the key word, Mom,” said Patricia. “Are you going to support us in our decision or not?”
“Look, Pats, I hope you understand that it’s not easy to digest three divorces in the same year.”
“Then don’t ask why or how,” Patricia said. “Don’t make assumptions. Don’t investigate. Trust us. It’s what’s best for us. Just know that Eric and I will be fine.”
“Don’t think you’re going to get rid of me that easily,” said Eric, suddenly reminding everyone that he was still on the video call.
* * *
After Patricia’s cellphone went around the table, everyone saying good-bye to Eric, blowing kisses and air hugs, and after everyone had started eating, Oscar said to his daughters, “You know, I’m actually angry right now and I want you all to hear what I have to say.”
Keila stopped cold. Was Oscar recovering his assertiveness?
“When your mother announced to you back in January that she wanted to divorce me, you rejected her decision forcefully and with zero validation of her feelings. And yet here you are, divorcing your husbands, all three of you, and you expect us to support your decisions without question. I know you are each doing it under different circumstances, I get it, but by the way things have turned out, I sense a double standard here and I want to hear what you have to say about it.”
Keila, for once, found herself speechless. It took her a few seconds to realize that Oscar was right. All of a sudden she needed an apology from her daughters, for her and for Oscar.
After what seemed a long silence, Patricia said, “Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry! I’ve been so selfish. We never really asked why you were at odds, why Dad’s behavior was so terrible that you wanted to split up. We just acted like little kids.”
“Yes, Pats,” said Claudia. “All this time we were demanding that Mom and Dad make up while we were busy messing up our own marriages. That’s so sick. I feel terrible myself. But, if I can say so, Mom, Dad, you’re really giving it all you’ve got. I see a lot of progress. I really hope you stay together, but only if you want to. No more pressure from us. It’s really not fair.”
Olivia took her time to answer. Holding back tears, she finally said to her parents, “All of our lives you guys have taught us what a good marriage should be, even during these difficult months where you humored us and gave yourselves a chance, but we’ve failed in ours. We all married the wrong guy to start with, and even though we succeeded occasionally—well, the twins are proof—look at us; we’re back home licking one another’s wounds, leaving a trail of debacles behind. I think we asked you to stay together because we loved your marriage more than we loved ours.”
Keila reached across the table and took Olivia’s hand, causing her to weep, now with abandon.
There, it had been said.
Monday, September 19th
“Why did you even get married?” asked Dani, puzzled, fluffing his pillow.
“That’s a question I’m asking myself. Maybe I don’t think things through, I’m finding out. I’ll have an answer for you soon. I’m working on it,” said Patricia, sitting at the edge of her son’s bed. “Eric is a good man, but he’s not the right man for us. That’s why we’re divorcing.”
“We don’t need a man, or a dad. Or do you?”
“Question number two. I might not.”
>
“I like Eric, but I hardly ever see him. I wonder if I’ll miss him.”
“He’s still going to visit sometimes.”
“That could be cool. Can I borrow your iPad?”
And with Dani’s question number three, Patricia realized that her divorce from Eric was not really an issue to be concerned with. Not for Dani anyway.
Dani came back into bed with Patricia’s iPad.
“There’s more news. This one you might really like,” she continued. “I’m going to have a baby.”
“What?” Dani put down the tablet, puzzled.
“Maybe two.”
“Wait, but why, if you don’t love Eric?”
“It’s complicated. Eric is not involved at all. I’m carrying Olivia’s embryos, the ones you’ve been hearing about over dinner. She doesn’t have a uterus anymore, so mine is the next best thing.”
“Wow. So they’ll be my brother-cousins?”
“They’ll be Alvarados.”
“That’s so sci-fi.”
“Olivia and I will be raising them together, like we’ve raised you. We’ll be sister-mommies. But you can’t tell anyone just yet. Promise?”
“Promise.”
Patricia took a deep breath and got up to leave. “Fifteen minutes and the lights go out, okay?”
Tuesday, September 20th
Invites to Patricia and Eric’s divorce party were sent out on the same day they hired a mediator.
“Eric and I are using the same guy,” Patricia said when Olivia offered to refer her lawyer. “We’ve agreed on everything. So, why should we have separate representation?”
“But my lawyer’s a T. rex. He can help you sort out all your assets,” Olivia insisted.
“You mean my shoe collection? My car? My devices? I don’t own anything. I don’t even own a frying pan. I have no need for monster lawyers. Eric keeps his stuff and I keep mine, as simple as that. What I really need is a caterer. Claudia is not being helpful.”
“Let’s call her chef friend Hiroshi,” said Olivia, abandoning the T. rex idea.
After making a few calls and finalizing the party, Olivia and Patricia spent the rest of the afternoon drinking coffee and eating cookies in the kitchen. By the time they’d rescued some leftover chicken from the fridge, dabbed it in mayonnaise, and nibbled it to the bone, they’d already covered all kinds of gossip, except the Big Issue that was uncomfortably wedged between them.
“I’m afraid to ask you if the pregnancy had anything to do with your decision to divorce Eric.”
“Of course it did, in a good way. Everything was resolved in the end. You really need to work hard to have a good, solid marriage, and neither of us is prepared for that, let alone a family. It’s nobody’s fault. And we’re open to some kind of relationship, whatever it is.”
“What a relief, Pats. At least one of us has had an amicable divorce.”
“Right. There really is no acrimony between Eric and me. And as for the embryos,” she said, rubbing her incipient belly, “we did it!”
“Yup,” said Olivia, unsure if keeping the truth from Felix was the best way to handle the situation. Secrets have a tendency to come out eventually, in unexpected and nasty ways.
Wednesday, September 21st
Would she ever be able to get rid of the cane? The more her physical therapist told her she would fully recover, the more Claudia’s fear intensified. She’d lost something. What was that part of her brain, now obviously damaged, that had always made her so plucky? Now not only her step but her personality was wobbly. When Olivia wasn’t home, Claudia would text her repeatedly with big and small wants and needs: “Could you stop by the pharmacy to pick up my meds?” Or: “I need a better pillow.” Or: “Do you love me?”
Olivia complied dutifully and lovingly, storing away any resentment that had resulted from years of enduring her sister’s bullying and criticism. She humored Claudia’s neediness and dismissed it, not quite convincingly, as temporary.
She’d recently noticed that Claudia had been camping at the dining table for days, typing away on her laptop. Was she binge-shopping? Online dating? Applying for a job? On that afternoon, her curiosity brought her to glance at her sister’s screen. Startled by Olivia’s presence, Claudia hastily shut her laptop.
“Are you watching porn?” asked Olivia, taken aback.
“Of course not.”
“Then what are you hiding?”
“Nothing. It’s a personal project.”
“Right. It’s none of my business. I’m just curious.”
“You’re always going through my stuff!”
“I only did it that one time years ago!”
Olivia remembered that day very well. Keila and Oscar were going on a scuba-diving trip to Tulum and left Claudia and Olivia with Lola. Patricia hadn’t been born yet.
“Take very good care of your new glasses. They cost a small fortune and you already lost a pair,” Keila warned Olivia right before she and Oscar left for the airport.
That very evening, Olivia carefully cleaned her glasses and set them on her nightstand before going to sleep. To her shock, the next morning they had disappeared. Puzzled, she looked everywhere over the following two weeks, including in Claudia’s closet and drawers, to no avail.
“Mom’s going to kill you for losing your glasses. I bet she’s going to ground you for a year,” Claudia would tell Olivia with a sneer.
Olivia was sure that her sister was hiding them somewhere. It was a classic Claudia maneuver. She’d torture her at every opportunity, and Olivia would agonize over the threat of punishment.
Of course, the glasses surfaced mysteriously on Olivia’s nightstand the day Keila and Oscar returned from their trip.
Now, years later, standing in front of her frail sister tightly hugging her laptop against her chest as if it were a CPR rescue lifesaver board, Olivia felt a warm rush of compassion flow through her.
“No need to show me your personal project,” Olivia said.
“I will, when I’m ready.”
Friday, September 30th
Los Tres Primos waited at the Happy Crunch Almond Orchard entrance gate for Oscar’s SUV, their hats’ inner bands wet with the sweat of labor. When they finally saw the cloud of dust swirling around on the road announcing the car’s arrival, all three of them straightened their shirt collars and wiped their faces as if choreographed.
The first one to step out of the car full of Alvarados was Patricia, followed by Dani.
“Shanah tovah, Mrs. Alvarado,” said Lucas.
“Happy Rosh Hashanah!” said Dani without asking himself how these Mexican farmworkers knew how to greet them in Hebrew on this holiday.
“You’re Los Tres Primos! My dad said you’re going to tell us about the almonds,” said Patricia with a wink, as they knew she knew and were in on the surprise for her older sisters. “I’m Patricia, but people call me Pats. This is my son, Dani,” she said. She shook their hands, their callused skin hardened by years of working the land.
“Grandpa says you are masters at growing almonds,” he said, hoping to corroborate Oscar’s assertion.
Lucas blushed and smiled at his cousins.
“We make a good team,” he said, and Saúl and Mario nodded in unison.
Olivia helped Claudia step out of the car and reached for the cane so her sister could maneuver the uneven terrain. Then she went to the back of the minivan to get the twins out of their car seats.
“Don’t go very far, girls. I want to be able to see you at all times,” said Olivia, quickly scanning the rows of trees for potential danger.
As expected, Diana sprinted to the east and Andrea to the west, and without waiting for any sort of instruction, Lucas went after one and Mario after the other, bringing the girls back to Olivia within minutes.
“So sorry, they’ve never been in the countryside,” said Olivia, embarrassed, feeling the need to explain.
“That’s what the open land does to city kids,” said Saúl. “T
hey can’t help it.”
Oscar watched the scene as he unloaded the picnic basket and the cooler, taking them to a long wooden table that Los Tres Primos had prepared on Oscar’s request, clad with a flower-patterned plastic tablecloth and set with enamel dinnerware brought from the cousins’ home. A small vase with wildflowers picked that morning at the Carrizo Plain served as a centerpiece.
“I’m not telling you where we’re going. It’s a surprise,” he’d told Keila, his daughters, and his grandchildren days before when he invited them to celebrate Rosh Hashanah at a mystery location.
“So, we’re not going to temple, right?” Patricia had asked Oscar with a veiled, conspiratorial smirk, knowing that a surprise visit to Happy Crunch Almond Orchard would be the way Oscar revealed the secret to his other daughters.
“We’ll just have to miss it.” Keila suspected where Oscar wanted to take his family, so even though she considered herself a “twice-a-year Jew” and enjoyed the prayers and songs at the synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, she didn’t make a fuss about skipping it this year.
On the way, Oscar announced that they were to have a picnic at an almond orchard, and they were to meet Los Tres Primos, the almond experts, so they could ask questions about the nuts. With a little encouragement from Keila, everyone humored him, as they hadn’t seen him so excited about anything in a long time.
As soon as everyone sat to start lunch and commented on the beauty of their surroundings, Oscar said, in ceremony: “How many years since we had a family picnic? I can still see Claudia and Olivia flipping a quarter to decide who would break the piñata.”
“And what about the time Pats got chased by a swarm of wasps in Big Bear?” said Claudia, interrupting her father.
“I’m sure you remember this one, too: the time you made us tortas for that beach day at El Capitán and we all got sick,” said Patricia, still mad at Claudia for making fun of her after the wasp attack, years before.
“Well, this is also a very special picnic,” said Oscar, trying to redirect the conversation toward his big announcement. “I wanted to bring you here as a surprise because this land, these trees, and the hills you see over there to the east, they’re ours. I bought this paradise a long time ago after I sold the land in Silicon Valley, and I bought it behind your mother’s back, so I want to ask her again to forgive me today, in front of you.”
L.A. Weather Page 24
