How Tia Lola Saved the Summer

by Julia Alvarez

  Cari hurries over to the space Juanita has just made beside her at the table. It’s amazing how instantly forgiving she is, as if Juanita’s kind gesture has completely erased her earlier unkindness. “I love how you wrapped everything together,” Juanita praises the little girl. “Where’d you get the idea?”

  “I was making a silverware family,” Cari explains. “First, I started with the papa knife, and then came the mama fork and then the little baby spoon.” She demonstrates again with her own set and beams up at Juanita when she is done.

  How did Cari get to be so adorable? Or was she this adorable when she was being annoying? Juanita feels another sudden gush of love just like she did for her brother. “I wish you were my little sister,” she says. She really means it.

  “Me too,” Cari says, putting her spoon beside Juanita’s to make silverware sisters.

  The two girls plow into their delicious, self-served meal—a wonderful thing about parties: parents too distracted to insist on a serving of vegetables or a bigger piece of meat. Cari’s plate is piled high with French fries, surrounded by a pool of ketchup, and that’s it. Juanita opted for Tía Lola’s luscious pastelitos, cheese sticks, and a hot dog destined for Valentino. The conversation turns to tadpoles and frogs, slimy stuff that Juanita would prefer not to discuss while she is eating. But Juanita is feeling so pleased with how pretty the Fourth of July bouquets turned out, how everyone has been enjoying the garden, that things that would usually annoy her just don’t seem to have that effect on her at all.

  Across the table from Cari and Juanita, Victoria is listening politely to a really boring baseball story some guy is telling her. Victoria has got to be the nicest person, always taking care of everybody. In fact, normally, Victoria would have reached over and wiped the ketchup off little Cari’s T-shirt. She would have insisted that Cari include more of the food pyramid on her plate. Of course, Victoria hasn’t touched her own food, so she can hardly complain about her little sister.

  The story finally comes to an end with a flurry of home runs and a win for the home team. “That’s awesome, Owen,” Victoria congratulates him. Owen … Owen … the name sounds familiar. That’s right: Owen is Dean’s older brother, who has been helping Rudy coach the team. And suddenly, like a last puzzle piece snapping into place so she can see the whole picture, Juanita understands why Victoria has forsaken Tía Lola’s summer camp to go down to the pasture to watch a bunch of boys play baseball.

  “I ate too much,” Essie groans from the other end of the table.

  “I didn’t!” Cari exclaims.

  “That’s because you only ate French fries!” Essie blurts out. Everyone laughs. Juanita glances at Cari, hoping she won’t feel ridiculed and burst into tears. Essie can sometimes have a big mouth, just like Juanita this morning, not thinking how her words might hurt somebody’s feelings. Maybe Essie is also afraid she’s going to be squeezed out of any attention. But maybe now that she has been getting lots of compliments on her baseball skills, Essie will be nicer about sharing the spotlight.

  “You only ate French fries?” Victoria has overheard Essie’s comment and is suddenly all attention, her forehead creased. She has been forgetting her responsibilities as the eldest, in charge of her little sister. “Oh, Cari, you know you have to eat a balanced meal.”

  “But it’s the Fourth of July,” Cari explains.

  “I guess you’re right.” Victoria smiles indulgently. “That shirt certainly looks like you got wounded in battle.”

  This is what gives Juanita the idea to include the little girl in her plans. Cari can be a wounded soldier from the War of Independence with her bloody T-shirt and her sword, even though Juanita’s pretty sure that soldiers had guns back then. Juanita is glad for the company. She has been feeling increasing stage fright about getting the whole room’s attention just to herself. Meanwhile, Cari is thrilled to be part of Juanita’s surprise and suggests wearing a bloody ketchup bandage around her head and limping like Miguel does when he tries walking on his hurt foot.

  Maybe it’s because the fireworks were canceled or because these guests had nowhere else to go this Fourth of July, or else they wouldn’t have been free to accept this last-minute invitation, but Juanita’s and Cari’s surprise is especially appreciated.

  With a flare of trumpets (from a CD Mami has) and a clang of cymbals (from the pot and metal spoon Tía Lola is holding), a wounded Revolutionary War soldier comes down the stairs. She is wielding a sword to defend the home of the brave, or so she announces to the huddled masses yearning to breathe free. Behind the soldier is a noble beast with a red bandanna, carrying a little American flag in his mouth. Then, straight from the harbor of New York City, Lady Liberty makes her entrance in her star hat and her white robe and a tablet on which are written the words of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” because they’re kind of hard to remember. In fact, for the longest time, Juanita thought the song was addressed to Miguel’s friend José, in New York City: “José, can you see …” But then Ms. Sweeney told her class the story, explaining what ramparts were and what a perilous fight was. Everyone had to write out the first verse, an assignment on which Juanita got an A for her beautiful penmanship.

  Lady Liberty sings the national anthem, with the wounded soldier coming in for the parts she knows. One by one, folks start joining in. Colonel Charlebois, dressed as usual in his old army uniform, struggles to his feet and puts his hand on his heart. When they get to the bombs bursting in air, Valentino lets out a series of explosive barks that makes the room roar with laughter.

  Tía Lola enters from the kitchen with a cake decorated with candles and tiny American flags. Everyone now joins in singing “Happy Birthday” to the United States, including Tía Lola, who feels especially grateful to this great country for letting her stay with her family and all the new friends she has made.

  “Make a wish!” Tía Lola reminds everybody, before Colonel Charlebois does the honors and blows out the candles.

  Juanita closes her eyes. Earlier today, there were a zillion wishes she would have made. But right now she can’t think of anything else that would make this a more special day! The only thing missing is Papi, but he called up just a little while ago to say that he and Carmen and Abuelito and Abuelita are coming this weekend to see them and also watch Miguel’s baseball game.

  It’s dark by the time the last guest leaves. As Juanita and her family stand in the front yard waving goodbye, one little light, then another, and another, then more and more, twinkle in the darkness. “They’re fireflies!” Juanita explains because none of the Swords have actually ever seen them.

  Well, Essie claims she saw some the night they were out on the treasure hunt. But she thought she was seeing stars like when you spin yourself around too many times and almost pass out.

  “Why are they lighting up like that?” Cari wants to know.

  “Mother Nature is giving us her especial fireworks,” Tía Lola tells the little girl.

  Juanita can’t help smiling. She got her fireworks after all! Back inside, she collects her costume and cleans off her sword, still muddy from the garden, to take up to her room. When Tía Lola notices the blank blade, she offers Juanita her marker, as she did with Cari.

  “What for?” Juanita doesn’t need her name on a sword to feel special anymore.

  Six

  wednesday

  Victorious Vicky

  Victoria lies in bed, enjoying a rare treat. In the next bed, Cari is still fast asleep. As soon as she wakes, it’ll be Victoria’s responsibility to help her little sister dress, accompany her downstairs, and get her to eat some breakfast, including going through the daily struggle about the need for milk for calcium for her growing bones. What a relief just to lie in bed daydreaming, not worrying about anyone or anything!

  But then a little worry cloud sails into Victoria’s head. How on earth is she going to get out of Tía Lola’s summer camp outing today? They’re all supposed to drive over to Fort Ticonderoga, a military museum,
where there’s going to be a Revolutionary War reenactment. It was her father’s idea, the big history fan. Papa is so excited and thinks this is such a special treat. Honestly! Why would anyone want to go watch grown men dressed in costumes shoot at each other with noisy muskets? She’ll be bored to tears.

  It’s true that Victoria used to feel the same way about baseball. But now that Owen has explained to her all the intricacies of the game, she is a total fan. As she tried to tell him yesterday, if it hadn’t been for him … She was about to finish her sentence when she made the mistake of looking into his blue eyes. They had this soft, mesmerizing home-run glow to them.

  Victoria doesn’t want to hurt her father’s feelings, but she really would prefer if Papa and Cari and Mami and Tía Lola and Juanita went by themselves. Hopefully, Miguel’s ankle will be cured, so that Essie will want to go, too. Victoria is pretty sure her sister won’t turn down the chance to watch an actual battle, given that she’s always starting them. Besides, it’ll be so annoying if Essie stays. Her sister is constantly pestering Owen with baseball questions, hogging all the attention. And Victoria has so much to talk to Owen about before she has to leave Vermont on Sunday.

  She could try acting sick, but that might totally backfire on her. Her worrywart father would not only cancel the outing, but stick around insisting Victoria stay in bed. Any chance of seeing Owen today would evaporate. The best policy, as her father is always telling her, is honesty.

  But Victoria has such a hard time telling people stuff they don’t want to hear and seeing them be upset with her or unhappy with themselves. She can’t bear it! If only she could get rid of that part of herself! Be free to be her fun, exciting, perky, selfish self! She punches her pillow a bunch of times, then buries her face in it, stifling her screams (otherwise she’ll wake up Cari): I hate being the responsible, thoughtful, helpful, polite one! Oh, Owen, Owen, Owen, please save me, oh save me from this cruel destiny of being the oldest!

  One flight down, Tía Lola is cooking breakfast. Today it’s a Dominican treat, mangú, a dish made of mashed plantains, with a special fried cheese Rudy is kind enough to order from his Boston supplier. A hearty breakfast for people going to watch a bloody battle or play baseball.

  But as she is finishing up the dish, Tía Lola distinctly feels a little sword jabbing at her heart. One of her campers is experiencing trouble. Who can it be? Probably Miguel. He has been growing impatient with how slowly his ankle is healing. Tía Lola turns off the stove, dries her hands on her apron, and heads upstairs.

  As she reaches the second floor, the guest room door opens. The oldest of Víctor’s girls, the lovely Victoria, is tiptoeing out. She gives a little jump when she sees she is not alone.

  “Sorry,” Tía Lola mouths. She would continue her trek upstairs to check on Miguel, but something desperate in the girl’s face makes her stop. She gestures for Victoria to come up to her attic room. For a moment, Victoria looks unsure, but then with a sigh of relief, she nods.

  Working as a team, Victoria and Tía Lola manage to talk Mami and Víctor and the three girls into going to Fort Ticonderoga without them.

  At first, Essie keeps changing her mind. Miguel’s ankle is still swollen. She would love to substitute for a second day, but she’d also love to watch a real-life battle. “I’ve heard it’s like a show in Disney World,” her older sister remarks. That clinches it.

  As for Tía Lola staying behind: “I’d love a quiet day working in my garden.” It’s so rare that Tía Lola asks for something, no one thinks to talk her out of it.

  “How did you do that?” Victoria whispers. Tía Lola shrugs like she doesn’t know what big thing she just did. “Tell everyone what you wanted without apologizing?” Victoria elaborates.

  “I just told everyone what I wanted without apologizing,” Tía Lola laughs. Like it’s that simple. “Now you try it.”

  But Victoria isn’t so sure she can withstand her father’s persistence. “Are you certain you want to stay, Victoria?” he keeps asking. Each time, she can feel her certainty eroding. “It’ll be a chance to see our country’s history in action.”

  Papa, pleeeeeeease!!! Victoria feels like shouting. I have ZERO interest in watching any history except my own in action!!!

  Tía Lola steps in. “Victoria’ll keep me company and help me take care of our patient.”

  Of course Papa has to bring up some hurdles. “But neither of you can carry Miguel. And Rudy can’t do it either. Remember, he’s not a young man. Come to think of it …” Oh no! Papa himself is reconsidering. Unless Tía Lola and Victoria think of something quick, the whole outing will be canceled.

  “Owen can carry him,” Victoria blurts out, an edge of desperation in her voice.

  Mami has also been pushing for Victoria to come along. But just this moment, Mami must see something she didn’t see before. Victoria is blushing at the mere mention of Dean’s tall, handsome fourteen-year-old brother.

  “Víctor, I actually will feel a lot better leaving Miguel in Victoria’s hands,” Mami says, looping her arm through his and escorting him out to the van.

  As they drive off, Victoria could swear that Linda calls out, “Have a lovely time with Ow—I mean, Miguel.”

  Throughout this parting scene, Miguel looks on grimly. He dislikes being cast in the role of wounded athlete needing care. He doesn’t need care. He needs his ankle back in shape so he can play baseball this Saturday.

  What’s making Miguel feel even more desperate is that Papi called yesterday to announce that he and Carmen, Abuelito, and Abuelita are all coming this weekend to watch his first big game. Miguel was still counting on his miracle, so he didn’t mention his injury. Amazingly, neither did Juanita, who has to be the world’s biggest blabbermouth. But then, his little sister was acting super-weird, going around hugging people and telling them how much she loved them.

  As for Mami, she was too busy to talk long with Papi. She did say she’d make them all a reservation at the B&B down the road. Papi must have asked if there was any way they could all stay together at the house like last time. Of course that would have been fine, but Mami explained how right now all the bedrooms were occupied, as Víctor was up visiting with his girls. This really surprised Papi, as Mami later recounted, which Miguel doesn’t understand, since Carmen and Víctor work in the same law practice. Plus, they’re friends. Surely, he must have mentioned coming to Vermont. But maybe not. The more Miguel knows of grown-ups, the weirder they seem. Only his little sister is weirder, but at least she doesn’t get to boss him around.

  But none of these plans will matter if his ankle hasn’t healed. Papi will probably cancel his trip altogether. Maybe on account of hanging out so much with Víctor, Miguel wants to feel that Papi will always be his father, no matter what happens between Víctor and Mami.

  “What am I going to do, Tía Lola?” he asks his aunt once the Fort Ticonderoga contingent has left.

  “Remember how with patience and calm, even a donkey can climb a palm tree!” A favorite saying of hers. “It’s just going to take a little more time for your ankle to heal, just as it’s going to take a little more time for you to grow taller. These things will come, I promise.”

  But Miguel’s patience is wearing thin. Good thing Tía Lola invites Dean and his brother, Owen, to come over for lunch before practice, because that takes Miguel’s mind off the thought that some donkeys who try to climb up palm trees probably don’t succeed.

  It is a lovely day for Victoria.

  The only part she feels bad about is that she didn’t just tell her father the truth. Papa, she should have said, I want some time to myself; I want to get to know this nice boy; I want to do fun things on my own without always having to include my younger sisters. It’s such a relief to talk to Tía Lola. She listens and doesn’t make Victoria feel like a selfish brat. It’s a little like having her mother back. But even saying that much might make Papa sad.

  “Next time you will tell him more of the truth,” Tía Lola reas
sures Victoria as they prepare lunch together. “You’re taking little baby steps, and like Miguel with his ankle, you have to be patient.” Tía Lola is like a life coach! “Hay que darle tiempo al tiempo. You know that expression?”

  Victoria winces as if she were Miguel stepping on his bad foot. “My mother used to say that,” she explains in a pained voice. “ ‘You have to give time to time.’ ” And just like that, Victoria is sobbing in Tía Lola’s arms. It’s a good thing that Owen and Dean and Miguel are out in the living room, watching some game on ESPN. “I’m sorry,” Victoria keeps saying, but Tía Lola tells her there is nothing at all to be sorry about. She understands how hard it is for Victoria to be growing up without her mother.

  Before joining the boys, Victoria washes her face. “Do I look like I’ve been crying?”

  “Yes, you do. And it makes your brown eyes shinier and your face prettier.” Tía Lola has a way of telling the truth that doesn’t hurt to hear it.

  “Ay, Tía Lola!” Victoria throws her arms around her wonderful new friend. “I hope we do move to Vermont!”

  Tía Lola hugs the sweet girl back. “I hope so, too!” That would be the best miracle of all: if Linda and Víctor were to fall in love.

  “What’s with the swords?” Owen wants to know as they head to the back field. Miguel and Victoria have insisted on bringing along these Halloween swords. Owen is serving as Miguel’s crutch on the right, while Victoria is on the left. Tía Lola follows, carrying a small stool on which Miguel will rest his bad foot.

  “The swords are una tradición latina,” Tía Lola says playfully. A Latin tradition? “Ay, sí, Owensito,” she teases, calling him “little Owen,” when he towers above her. “You know how the valentine angel carries love arrows?” She must mean Cupid. “Bueno, before a game or a practice, we Latinos carry harmless swords to remind us to play fair and make friends.”