Silver Meadows Summer

by Emma Otheguy

  “That’s cool.” Carolina tried to look nonchalant and pulled her pencils out from her own backpack. Thankfully, Jennifer didn’t seem to want to talk more about it, so Carolina leaned against the wall and turned to a blank page. She thought about drawing the sea, but she knew she couldn’t imitate what Gavin had done, not with pencil and paper and maybe not for years and years. Painting well took practice, Señora Rivón had always told her. Still, she wanted to draw something that spoke to her like the sea did, and she moved her pencil to the bottom of the page, drawing the roots of a tree on the far left, then the leaves spreading out to the right in an enormous canopy.

  Jennifer straightened up from her felting and cocked her head to the side. “You know, Carolina, you don’t need oil paint to add colors.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a red pen. “What about pens?”

  Caro weighed the pen in her hand. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Maybe.” She tucked the red pen into her backpack.

  Jennifer glanced at her watch. “We should probably start hiking back. We don’t want to be late for your mom.”

  “We’ll be in huge trouble if we’re out of bounds when she gets here,” Carolina agreed.

  Jennifer repacked her bag and tapped the acorn cap of the elf in the fireplace. “Good-bye, little guy,” she said. “See you soon.”

  The sound of the leaves grew suddenly louder as a breeze blew through the cabin.

  “That tarp!” Carolina ran over and pushed down the loose edge so it wouldn’t fly away. Jennifer pressed down the other side.

  Thoughtfully, Carolina looked up at the window. “You know, if we’re going to come back here—”

  “We are. Definitely.”

  “Maybe we could make some curtains.”

  Jennifer examined the windows. “That would be so, so cozy. Except I don’t have that much fabric.”

  Carolina considered the problem. “I think my tía Cuca likes to sew, or used to. I could ask her.”

  “And there’s always sheets,” Jennifer added.

  Carolina fingered the tarp, then stepped back to take in the whole cabin, the chimney and the fireplace and the windows, one covered in a tarp, the other with glass. She could imagine the curtains perfectly: cheerful and yellow, rustling in the wind, keeping rhythm with the chimes. And Jennifer’s elf in the fireplace, the little duende, waiting to greet them each time they arrived. It was the perfect spot.

  They got back to Jennifer’s house with just enough time for Carolina to change out of her muddy clothes. She put her backpack on Jennifer’s bed and pulled out a clean pair of jeans, ones that still had creases in them from how Mami had folded them into her suitcase. She buried her face and took a long sniff.

  Jennifer, who was sitting at her desk finishing another elf figurine, raised an eyebrow. “Your jeans smell good?”

  Carolina peeled off her muddy pants. “Like starch.” She rolled the pants into a neat ball and put them in the very bottom of her backpack. “They remind me of my old house. I think my tía Cuca must clean things differently than we did at home.”

  Mami came to pick her up, thanking Gavin with all her teeth showing. But as they made their way to the car, Carolina saw Mami’s eyes linger on the front yard.

  Carolina waved good-bye to Jennifer and followed Mami. Rain pattered onto the path, and each droplet turned the slate a dark charcoal that bloomed and spread over the stone. Mami’s keys beeped as she fumbled to open Tía Cuca’s car, and Carolina took one last look over her shoulder.

  The mismatched yard looked bedraggled in the rain. The leaves in the vegetable garden drooped, and with no light for the sculptures to reflect, they didn’t sparkle. Now she saw through Mami’s eyes, and she wondered how long you had to go without mowing your lawn before it grew as long and wild as it did here. She climbed into the car and shut the door.

  They drove out of the green tunnel of Jennifer’s dirt road and turned onto the paved county route. “That’s quite a house,” Mami said.

  “You don’t like it.” Carolina looked at her hands.

  Mami flipped on the windshield wipers. “Cuca told me the dad’s a painter; you’d think he’d paint his own house. It looks like the whole thing is falling down.”

  “He’s not that kind of painter.”

  Almost to herself, Mami said, “They must be poor, still living out in the backwoods like that.”

  Carolina took her time unraveling Mami’s words. She didn’t think Jennifer was poor. It was true that her house was way out in the woods and everyone else in Larksville seemed to be moving to shiny new houses, but Carolina loved Jennifer’s house. Then she thought back to the kids from her school in Puerto Rico. Carolina had never had a ton of friends, but she’d known everyone at her small Catholic school. She couldn’t think of anyone from her old school whose dad had long hair and paint-splattered jeans.

  “But we’re poor, too, aren’t we?” Carolina said finally. “I mean, since we moved here and Papi doesn’t have a job.”

  Mami tsked. “That’s temporary.” She leaned forward over the steering wheel. “Mi vida, they seemed a little strange.”

  Carolina lifted her gaze and watched the rain hitting the hood of the car. “You never used to care what people’s houses were like,” Caro said. “Now you want to do whatever Tía Cuca and Uncle Porter do. They moved to a new house, and now you only like new houses.”

  Mami didn’t take her eyes off the road. “I’m just trying to help you adjust,” she said slowly. “Some of the things Cuca has told me, about when she first came to Larksville…And Gabriela was really excited to introduce you to Alyssa, and to her other friends.”

  “Well, what if I don’t care about Gabriela’s friends?” Carolina protested.

  “Caro,” Mami said, “I was very young when we left Cuba for Puerto Rico, but I still know what it’s like to be new somewhere, to be different. When you’re new, you care a lot about your family, about being close to them.” Mami sighed. “You’ll see.” She lowered the speed of the windshield wipers as the rain slowed. “You should be grateful to have Gabriela to show you how things work around here.”

  Carolina stared out the window. The stretch of road in this part of Larksville was surrounded by open country. She was grateful, she knew there were kids who had it so much worse, and yet she didn’t see why family should stop her from coming to Jennifer’s, from following the trail that led through the woods and up the hill, to the place where the cabin was tucked away.

  “What did you and Jennifer do today, anyway?”

  Carolina shifted in her seat. It was a good thing Mami couldn’t see her ears, which were turning hot and red.

  “Caro?” Mami prompted.

  “We just talked.” She felt around to make sure the dirty jeans were still deep in her backpack.

  Mami looked up, examining Carolina through the rearview mirror.

  Carolina decided to test an idea that had been forming all afternoon. “Mami, do you think—maybe in a couple of months—do you think I could get painting lessons from Jennifer’s dad? He gives lessons, you know.”

  They were getting to the only traffic light in Larksville, at the intersection with the sturdy brick post office and the steepled church whose wooden doors were painted bright red. Mami stopped at the traffic light and turned toward Carolina. “Mi amor—”

  “Not now, I know lessons are expensive, just—someday.”

  Mami nodded. “Someday, you’ll have art classes again. But you know, there might be another activity you want to do—or an art center in one of the other towns, a place where you could meet other kids your own age.”

  “I don’t want to meet other kids. I want Jennifer’s dad to teach me. Promise me you’ll let me?” Carolina pleaded. “Someday?”

  There was a hint of moisture in Mami’s eyes, and she reached back and patted Carolina’s cheek.
“Okay, Carolinita. Someday.”

  The light changed, and Mami turned onto the gleaming new blacktop of Tía Cuca and Uncle Porter’s street.

  * * *

  —

  Uncle Porter was making iced tea from a powder mix. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and stirred the pitcher with a long wooden spoon. The rain had stopped, so Carolina slipped away to the deck and stretched out on one of the lawn chairs. Daniel followed her, and she had to get up again to shut the sliding door so that the cold air wouldn’t escape the house. Daniel ran down the steps onto the grass. He crouched in the bushes and talked to the ants and squirrels. Carolina pulled her sketchbook out of her backpack and kept working on her tree. She noticed that the branches of the oaks all around her grew upward, closer to the sky, but the branches of Carolina’s tree grew out to the side. She added blossoms. Then she reached into her backpack and found Jennifer’s red pen. The blossoms burned red and came to life as Carolina filled them in with the pen.

  “Papi!” Carolina jumped to her feet as Papi opened the sliding glass door, holding a cup of iced tea. She hugged him tight. “How was your day?”

  “It was okay.” He sounded tired. “I met with your uncle Porter’s boss, Lance Rogan.”

  “Alyssa’s dad,” Carolina said. “Would you work for him too? Building houses?”

  Papi shook his head. “No, but he knows a lot of people in the area. People who can help me get interviews and find other jobs.”

  Carolina didn’t say anything else. Papi seemed distant, and worn-out. He opened a newspaper, and Carolina kept sketching.

  After a time, Papi asked softly, “What’s that you’re drawing?”

  Shyly, Carolina turned the book so Papi could see it. She hadn’t shown him any of her artwork in weeks, not since the last class she’d had with Señora Rivón.

  “A flamboyán?”

  Carolina nodded.

  Papi closed his eyes. “My father used to talk about the flamboyán in his yard in Cuba.”

  “And that’s why you and Mami chose our house in Puerto Rico,” Carolina added with a smile. “Because it had a flamboyán tree to remind you of Abuelo Titico.”

  Papi stared out over the deck, to where Daniel was piling acorns into a pyramid. “That, and those flamboyán pods made great swords.”

  The flamboyáns dropped enormous pods each year, crackly and brown, and Papi and Daniel had gathered them and kept them on the terraza, under the patio furniture. It had annoyed Mami; she didn’t like them tracking in dirt, and the pods shed and cracked over time. But Daniel and his friends had used the pods gleefully all year long, as everything from swords to boomerangs.

  “Dani really loved that,” Carolina whispered.

  “And now they’re the wake upon the sea,” Papi replied. He watched Daniel some more, and didn’t blink, not once.

  “Papi?” Carolina ventured. She struggled to find the right words. “If someone’s not using something, is it okay to borrow it? Like, just to use it for a little while?”

  “If you ask permission, then of course it’s okay.”

  “But what if you couldn’t ask permission?” Carolina pressed. “Then is it okay?”

  “Is there something you want to borrow, Caro? From your cousin?” Papi looked perplexed.

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. I was just…wondering.” Carolina turned to her drawing and furiously added pods at the foot of the flamboyán, pressing her pencil so hard that they grew much too dark, almost black.

  “HEY!” Daniel screamed. “CARO!” He came running up the steps to the deck.

  Carolina jumped. “Did something bite you? A squirrel?” What if Daniel had gotten rabies? Her heart was racing.

  “No! My tooth is loose!”

  “Your tooth is loose?” Carolina asked. “Daniel, don’t shout like that just for a tooth!”

  “But this is only my second loose tooth! Ben already lost almost all of his.”

  “Let me see.” Papi crouched down in front of Daniel.

  Daniel wiggled his tongue on the spot. It didn’t look very loose.

  “It’ll be a few days, I think,” said Papi.

  “I’m going to tell Mami. Maybe she can yank it out!”

  “No!” shouted Carolina.

  Papi stared.

  “I—” Carolina didn’t know why it suddenly seemed so important that this tooth stay right where it was. All she knew was that she didn’t want Mami yanking out that tooth. “It could hurt. Plus it could bleed and get infected.”

  Daniel frowned. “I’m still going to tell her. She has to make sure that the Ratoncito Pérez knows where I am. He might not have heard that we moved.” He went bounding into the house to tell Mami. Carolina could hear Mami gushing about it, even with the door closed.

  Uncle Porter opened the sliding glass door and joined them on the deck. “Cristina will be happy. She’s missed having a young kid around.”

  Carolina wasn’t used to hearing people call Tía Cuca by her real name; in Puerto Rico everyone used Cuca, her nickname. She hadn’t known that Cuca had an entire other life in upstate New York, with a different name even. Carolina followed Daniel back inside and discovered that Uncle Porter was right—Tía Cuca was over the moon.

  “We can get down the old tooth fairy doll!” she exclaimed.

  Gabriela was lounging on the leather couch in the living room. “Just give him money,” she said. “He’s not going to be interested in that doll you have, Mom.”

  Tía Cuca tsked. “Really, Gabriela. You always loved my tooth fairy doll.”

  Gabriela shrugged. “What can I say? I was young and silly.”

  But Tía Cuca was already heading to the garage, talking to herself about where she had stored the doll.

  Carolina followed Tía Cuca into the garage, which she liked, because it wasn’t so dead and air-conditioned in there. It was hot, the type of heat that wrapped you up. It would have been like the heat of home, except that this heat smelled like gasoline.

  The bins were all labeled, and Carolina noticed one on the left-hand side that read Fabric.

  “Tía Cuca?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Do you think I could use your fabric sometime?” She pointed timidly.

  “¡Claro!” Tía Cuca stopped what she was doing and pulled down the fabric bin. “Do you know how to sew? I could teach you! Gabs was never interested, but maybe you’ll be. What do you want to make?”

  Caro hesitated. “Maybe some curtains?”

  “Curtains?” Tía Cuca laughed. “Gabs would have said clothing, I can guarantee you.”

  “For when we move into our own house,” Carolina added quickly.

  “That is just the sweetest thing!” Tía Cuca lifted the lid off, and they sifted through the fabric. Carolina’s heart sank. The bin was full of scraps, each piece no more than a foot across. Even if Tía Cuca taught her to sew, it would take ages to make a set of curtains. None of the scraps were yellow either.

  But Tía Cuca was on a mission. “I’ll get down the sewing machine! I can start teaching you later tonight.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now, where’s that doll?” Tía Cuca moved aside a toolbox. “Here she is! Oh, isn’t she lovely, Carolina? I’m glad you’re young enough to appreciate these things.”

  Carolina forced her face into a smile and nodded. The doll was horrible. She had a porcelain head and hands, but her body was covered in layers of peach-colored, glittery skirts. The fabric was meant to look like chiffon, something gauzy and light, but anyone could tell that it was really cheap polyester. The doll had a sparkly wand and tiara that a few years ago might have fascinated Carolina, but now just looked very, very fake.

  Tía Cuca carried the doll out to the kitchen and set it on the counter. “Ana, come look! See, there’s a pouch for him to leave the tooth and everything! Isn
’t it darling?”

  Mami came in and helped Tía Cuca fan the skirts. “Oh, he’ll love it,” Mami said. “I sent him upstairs to take a bath, but just wait until he sees it.”

  Carolina crossed her arms. “What about the Ratoncito Pérez?” she asked. “That’s who Daniel’s expecting, he said so.”

  Tía Cuca beamed at her doll. “Oh, I never liked that. It always freaked me out, even when I was a kid. Mice are so horrible, I don’t even like pretending to have one in our house.”

  “Shhhh!” Carolina said. “What are you thinking? He’ll hear you.”

  Mami stared at Carolina. “Caro, it doesn’t matter. It’s a game, remember?”

  “Not to him it isn’t! Besides, how would a tooth fairy even work? Mice stow things away; it’s in their nature. Real fairies are light and airy—they couldn’t carry a human tooth.”

  Tía Cuca opened her mouth. “Well, if you really feel that way—”

  “She doesn’t,” Mami cut in. “She’s just tired. She’s had a long day. Caro, this is why I don’t want you having playdates so late after camp. It’s too much for you.”

  “What?” Carolina glared at Mami. “I’m not tired!”

  “Carolina, I want you to apologize to your tía Cuca.” Mami turned to Cuca. “It’s wonderful, it really is, and Daniel’s so lucky that you’re so thoughtful.” She looked back at Carolina expectantly.

  “I’m—I’m sorry, Tía Cuca. I didn’t mean that we don’t appreciate it.”

  “Oh, that’s okay, honey. Don’t worry about it.”

  Mami gave Carolina a curt nod, and Carolina wandered out of the kitchen, knowing she’d been dismissed.

  Gabriela had been listening from the couch in the living room. “Way to go, Caro,” she said, looking up from her phone. “That doll’s like my mom’s favorite thing in the world.”