by Anne Schraff
But all David could do was glance at Paul, who looked annoyingly amused as he stuffed maple cake in his mouth. He looked over at Carmen, who looked lovingly into Paul’s eyes. All she cared about was her own romance. All David could do was stare at Mr. Ibarra. His great mustache quivered and danced, and his eyes grew ever larger and more demanding.
“Perhaps I’m not phrasing my question clearly. What do you think was the most important lesson you learned in prison, David?” Mr. Ibarra’s tone was now more demanding. Where was the councilman going with these questions, David wondered?
CHAPTER FIVE
I learned to keep my head down so the other guys wouldn’t kill me,” David answered finally.
Emilio Zapata Ibarra continued to look at David for a moment. Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter. “David,” he inquired, “did you get into any fights in prison?”
“No,” David replied promptly. He put two hands up, palms out. “Never.” In fact, David was so good at avoiding trouble that the prison authorities often paired him with troublesome inmates. David never had a problem with them. Nothing could provoke him.
“Ah,” Mr. Ibarra concluded. “So you are good at getting along with people, eh? All kinds of people?”
At this point, Paul Morales was beginning to look puzzled. He even stopped eating his large slice of cake. Why did Carmen’s father want to meet David? Carmen was bewildered too. She assumed her parents just needed some reassurance about David. They wanted to be sure that he was a decent, nonviolent young man who’d made a mistake and was now reformed. That was all anybody thought was going on.
“So, David,” Mr. Ibarra went on, “have you found a job yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m looking hard,” David answered. “I filled in an application at this yogurt shop, but I haven’t heard yet. Somebody said they were hiring down at the car wash at the end of Washington. I’ll try there tomorrow.”
Mr. Ibarra leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands thoughtfully behind his head. “You are not who I expected you to be, David,” he remarked.
David said nothing. He wondered where he’d failed to make a good impression. He had certainly tried.
The big man continued, his mustache twitching for emphasis at certain words. “It is no secret that I have had some disagreements with your brother. He has, shall we say, a volatile personality. I am not criticizing him, mind you. He is a fine young man. But it would be nice if he did not have a rattlesnake tattoo on his hand. It would also be nice if he did not ride in cars that jump up and down in the street or drive a graffiti-scarred van.”
Mr. Ibarra nodded toward Paul. “Nevertheless,” he went on, “my most precious, beloved daughter cares deeply for your brother. I must respect that. Tonight I was expecting you to be very much like Paul, though I’d hoped you’d lack some of his mercurial qualities. I am delighted to see that you are much calmer and more, shall we say, even tempered.”
Both Paul and Carmen were now dumbfounded. They stared at Mr. Ibarra in silence.
“David,” Mr. Ibarra stated, “as you know, I’m a member of the city council. It is a job for which I worked long and hard for. I was grateful to be elected, and I am trying desperately to meet the needs of the constituents. Sadly, the political scene is now an angry and often bitter place. Men and women, frustrated in their lives, vent their rage against elected officials. In my office, I have a lovely woman who has been bravely fending off the clamoring mob. A young man is doing the same, but they both are nearing nervous breakdowns from the vitriol of some constituents. Constituents call to accuse me of stealing from the city. Irate citizens threaten to shove me and my staff into potholes if we don’t get them filled quickly enough.”
The councilman sighed deeply. “So, David, the bottom line is that I have an opening on my staff. I need some brave soul with the patience of that Biblical fellow Job. He also must have the stamina to help me survive this monstrous job I have gotten myself into.”
A total dead silence fell on the room. Paul’s eyes widened. When he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. Carmen, never at a loss for words, was also speechless.
David looked at the man with the great mustache and the shining white teeth. He asked softly, “Are you talking about a job, Mr. Ibarra?”
“David, you have survived the crucible of prison,” Emilio Ibarra responded. “Unlike Paul, you have the skills to create harmony out of madness. There is a gentle spirit about you that is warmly comforting. All you need to do is be polite and take the abusive phone calls without answering in kind. Just soothe peoples’ feelings. Try to solve the problems that are solvable. And try to convince others that a city councilman is not the Almighty who can fix everything. If you would like to try to do that, then I will put you on my staff.”
David stood up and declared in a voice thick with emotion, “Thank you, Mr. Ibarra. I promise you I will give the job all I got. I’ll put my heart and soul into it. I’ll work long hours. I’ll study the problems the city can help with. I’ll go out in the field and talk to people. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Mr. Ibarra. I never expected something so wonderful.”
Tears welled in David’s eyes but didn’t run down his cheeks.
Paul rose, walked over to Mr. Ibarra, and took his hand. “Even when we didn’t see eye to eye, Mr. Ibarra,” he told the man, “I never disrespected you. I knew you were one of the good guys. But now I know you’re one of the great ones.”
Carmen flew into her father’s arms, squealing with delight. “I love you, Papa. Love you! Love you!” she cried.
Later, Paul and David were driving home. Paul gasped, “Man, I’m still in shock. I never saw that coming. I never had a clue.”
“Paul,” David responded, “it’s something I never dreamed could happen for me again. I took a couple classes in prison in public relations, along with accounting. But I never thought I’d get something like this. You know, I’m gonna work harder than I’ve ever worked before. I’m gonna nail that job. I want Mr. Ibarra to be glad he did this for me. I won’t let him down.”
“A staff job in a councilman’s office,” Paul said, shaking his head. “No wonder Carmen is such a beautiful soul. For her old man to go pull something like this for a guy who needs a hand up, I’m like in awe. I’m kind of a cynic, you know, but this rocks me back on my heels. The goodness of humanity. Hah! Maybe it ain’t just a myth.”
David’s cell phone rang then. “Yeah?” he said. “Oh, okay. Fine. Thanks for callin’.” David ended he call, then broke out laughing. “It was the yogurt shop, bro. They didn’t want me!” For most of the ride, they stopped laughing only to catch their breath.
By the next Monday morning, David Morales had filled out all the employment paperwork and had been oriented at the councilman’s office. Also, with a loan from Paul, he bought some business clothes. Now David put on a blue striped shirt, a tie, blue dress pants, and new shoes. Paul drove him to the downtown office of Emilio Zapata Ibarra. The two young men high-fived each other. Paul drove on to work as David took the elevator up.
When David reported to Mr. Ibarra, the councilman was in his shirt sleeves, sitting at his desk. “Good morning, David,” he said. “Listen, there’s already a nut sitting out there waiting to talk to me. He’s been here since eight o’clock so . . .”
David nodded. “I’ll go talk to him right away, Mr. Ibarra.”
David had a small cubicle down the hall. In it were a desk and a chair for a visitor. He smiled at the man waiting outside the office. “Sir,” he told the man, “I’m one of Councilman Ibarra’s staff. I’ll be glad to help you with your problem. Would you like to sit down with me and tell me what you need?”
“I want to talk to somebody,” the man growled. “I’ve been given the runaround for two weeks, and I’m fuming. We got a big problem on our street, and that stiff in there don’t care. I know how that guy works. He don’t do nothin’ unless you hold his feet to the fire. He’s in there.” The man bobbed his head
toward the councilman’s door. “I know he is. He’s just duckin’ me.”
“Let’s step down the hallway, sir,” David suggested. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Seated in the cubicle, David asked, “So what would you like to talk about?”
“I live over there on Bluebird Street,” the man began. “Ain’t no rich folks living there. That’s the problem—just ordinary folks struggling to survive. Old Ibarra, he’s been ignoring everybody who ain’t got deep pockets. I ain’t surprised. I knew he was a bum when he got elected.”
The man seemed to take a closer look at David. “You know, you’re a young fella, ain’t been around long. But let me tell you, used to be a councilman in this district, a prince of a man, Monte Esposito. He got stuff done for people. But this clown Ibarra, he took the job away from him in some underhanded way.”
David seriously disagreed with what the man was saying, but he didn’t let his feelings show. “Well,” he responded, “let’s hear about your problem, sir. I don’t believe I got your name.”
“Felix Martinez,” he announced.
The name “Martinez” rang a bell. He wondered whether this man could be related to Ernesto’s girlfriend, Naomi. David extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Martinez. I’m David. Just started on the staff here.”
“Street lights, that’s the problem, David,” Mr. Martinez declared. “They got shot out by some lousy punks. Now it’s so dark that the criminals got a field day. Poor old ladies comin’ down the street are afraid of gettin’ mugged. People don’ go out at night no more. No offense, David, but you’re obviously a clean-cut preppy kid who ain’t got a clue about that side of life.”
David almost chuckled at that remark. “But it’s a zoo out there,” Mr. Martinez went on. “Them wild animals are on the prowl in the dark. I got a beautiful seventeen-yearold girl, and I’m scared for her. My poor wife, she’s a wimp, and she’s afraid to go out at night at all. But the gangbangers do fine in the dark. They’re on the prowl. They call it duck hunting. So we gotta get those lights fixed, David.”
David took out a special pad for citizen complaints. As he jotted down information, Mr. Martinez sneered. “I know what’s goin’ down here. You write stuff on your little paper—my name, address. Then you file the paper, and nothin’ gets done. I been down this road before.”
“No, sir,” David objected. “I agree with you. You have a serious problem over there. I understand where you’re coming from. I’m grateful you came in here today and talked about it. So many people notice things wrong and just shrug them off. You did something. I’m putting in a work order for street light maintenance on this right away. This is a public safety issue, and you are going to see action. I promise.”
David wasn’t making it up. From his orientation, he knew how much he could do on his own and how much he needed to refer to Councilman Ibarra.
Felix Martinez smiled a little. “You’re all right, kid. The gal they had in here before, she wouldn’t give me the time of day. She had the nerve to tell me I was a pest and I should get a life. She told me that right to my face. I guess old Ibarra fired her and hired you. First good move that blowhard ever made.”
Felix Martinez was leaving the cubicle when he turned and asked, “What’s your full name, David?”
“Uh . . . ,” David muttered, “Morales. David Morales.”
Mr. Martinez’s eyes widened. “No relation to Paul Morales, are you?” he asked.
“Yes, he’s my brother,” David replied, hoping the man had no beef with Paul.
“Great kid,” Felix Martinez declared. “He hangs out with my girl Naomi and her boyfriend.”
“Again, thank you for coming in, Mr. Martinez, and I’ll see your street light problem is taken care of quickly,” David assured him.
The moment Felix Martinez was out the door, Mr. Ibarra’s office door opened. The councilman peered out.
“This was your baptism by fire, David,” Mr. Ibarra remarked. “I heard the exchange, and I am impressed. Felix Martinez and I are . . . uh . . . on speaking terms. But the less speaking we do, the better I like it.”
David smiled. “He’s an okay guy. I’m getting street light maintenance on this right away. I’m putting a rush on the order. I don’t blame those people on Bluebird Street for being scared of the dark. A lotta guys in prison told me their work was a whole lot easier when the street lights were out. All kinds of crime went up.”
Emilio Ibarra grinned. “You know, David,” he commented, “everything happens for a reason. You learned how to handle difficult people the hard way, but that’s a skill. That’s a real valuable skill. Good for you, muchacho.”
David looked at the man with a fresh surge of gratitude. “Thanks again, Mr. Ibarra,” he responded, “for giving me this chance. I’ll never forget it. Never. But you know, Mr. Ibarra,” David went on, “calling maintenance in is only a fix. It’s not a solution.”
“What do you mean?” the councilman asked.
“Well,” David explained, “the creeps still have guns. They’ll start taking target practice on those lights in days. We need a long-term solution. Don’t know what it’d be. Maybe more cops, maybe some kind of bulletproof cover. Don’t know. But we should be thinking about that.”
Councilman Ibarra smiled broadly. “Have my assistant put it on the agenda for the council meeting today. We’ll see what we can do. Maybe someone will have a bright idea.”
Mr. Ibarra had three staff members, including David. Jeff Caudillo was a serious twenty-five-year-old man who had worked on Mr. Ibarra’s campaign. The third staff member was Livy Majors, a pretty blonde just out of college. She wasn’t working today, but Jeff came in soon after Mr. Martinez left. Emilio Ibarra had told David privately that he hadn’t told the other staff members about David’s past. Mr. Ibarra told David it was up to him how much, if anything, he wanted to share about his personal life.
Mr. Ibarra introduced David Morales to Jeff Caudillo. Then they worked at their desks, taking turns dealing with citizen complaints.
By two in the afternoon, it was David’s turn. A very distraught woman in her late thirties demanded to see Councilman Ibarra. She kept saying how hard she had worked on Mr. Ibarra’s election, and now he had to help her.
David asked the woman to wait a moment. He went into Mr. Ibarra’s office, closing the door behind him. “Mr. Ibarra, there’s a lady out there, Clare Padilla,” he said. “She’s pleading to see you personally.”
Emilio Ibarra clamped his hands to his head. “David, I have a council meeting in five minutes. I haven’t time to talk to her again. I’ve talked to her before. Her son is missing. The boy is fourteen. This is a matter for the police. He ran away from home after an argument with his mother. What can I do?”
David took a deep breath and went back into the outer office. Mrs. Padilla was waiting anxiously. She was shaking and wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Mrs. Padilla, Councilman Ibarra must go to a council meeting right now,” David explained.
“Mi niño,” the woman sobbed. “He’s just a baby! He has been gone a week now. The police cannot find him. They say runaways come home eventually, but I am heartbroken. Councilman Ibarra promised if he was elected he would be like a father to us. Now he is too busy to help a mother. I will sit right here and wait for him to come back from his meeting.”
Jeff Caudillo came out of his cubicle. “Ma’am, these council meetings sometimes go into the night.”
“I don’t care,” Clare Padilla cried. “I will wait.” She sat stock still, staring at the wall across the hallway.
Jeff looked at David and shook his head. Then he turned to the woman. “We’re closing this office early today, ma’am, because of the council meeting. Unless you leave, we’ll have to call security. You could be arrested for trespassing. I’m sorry about your son, but it’s not a matter for the city council. I’m sure the police are doing all they can to find the boy.”
Tears streamed down the woman’s
face. “He is my only child,” the woman sniffed, not looking at either of the young men. “My husband has gone from us. I have no parents. All I have in the world is Bobby. Have me arrested if you want. I have nothing to live for anyway.”
Jeff looked at David again and said, “I’ll get security.”
“No, wait,” David ordered. “Just give me five minutes with her.”
Jeff shrugged his shoulders and returned to his computer.
David sat in a chair near the woman. “Do you have a photograph of your son, Mrs. Padilla?”
A glimmer of hope came into the woman’s red-rimmed eyes. “Yes, yes,” she cried, groping in her purse and digging out a school picture. “He is in the ninth grade at Cesar Chavez High School. He’s a good boy. He has never been in bad trouble. It is my fault what happened. He stayed late at school to play basketball with his friends. I scolded him, and he yelled at me. I threatened to send him to his father. Then he ran away.”
“Let me have the picture, Mrs. Padilla,” David asked. “I’ll make sure my friends at Chavez know the boy is missing. They’ll be on the lookout for him. Maybe some of the students there can help us. Give me your home address and your phone number. A couple friends are very hooked up with what goes on in the barrio. I promise you, we’ll do all we can to find your boy, Mrs. Padilla.”
The woman calmed down. “Gracias,” she murmured. “I am so scared for Bobby. He is out there alone in this bad world, and he is so young. I do the best I can, but I am only a cleaning lady. I can’t give Bobby nice things like the other children have.”
“Listen,” David told the woman gently. “Here’s my cell phone number. If your son comes home, call me. My name is David Morales. I’ll make copies of this picture of Bobby and give them to my friends. I think we’ll find him.”
“Gracias a Dios,” Mrs. Padilla sighed. “Gracias a Dios.” She stood up, walked slowly to the door, and left.
Jeff had had stepped out of the office. Now, as he returned, he saw Mrs. Padilla leaving. “Oh, did you finally convince her that we were serious about getting security up here?”
