I don’t know what to say. I thought separating my Somerset life and my home life made sense.
“It took a while but I dealt with that,” she says. “Now I have friends who aren’t ashamed of me.”
“I’m not ashamed of you. I thought you hated my friends from Somerset. Why would you want to go to the Hamptons? It was just some stupid party. You would have hated everything about it.”
“How would you know? You never gave me a chance.” She stops and sighs. “I feel bad that you caught your father doing that. That’s horrible. But I don’t know . . . Never mind.”
Elizabeth thrusts her paintbrush into a cup and cleans up. The canvas, which apparently doesn’t weigh much, is placed against a wall. I offered up this horrid story and expected to receive understanding. Instead, Elizabeth has finally voiced her feelings of betrayal. There’s nothing I can say to make things right. There aren’t enough apologies.
Elizabeth washes her hands at the sink and dries them with a towel. “Stay as long as you want,” she says. “Just don’t forget to lock the door behind you when you leave.”
I watch her head back to the house. It’s true. I have been ashamed of her. I wasn’t protecting her from my friends at Somerset. That was a lie. I thought if I aligned myself with people who seemed better than me I could transform myself. That is the truth. There’s a cost to those schemes.
There’s another thing. That day at the park was the first time Elizabeth seemed cooler than me. She talked to Moises and his friends without any hang-ups. It was easy to brush off that moment as being a fluke. Elizabeth and Moises and his friends are weird. Of course they got along. I told myself that to avoid feeling like an outcast. I can’t accept Elizabeth because I can’t even accept myself.
The sky turns a light blue. Morning comes. I lay my head down on the futon. It’s been a long night and my body feels sore. What will the day bring? More drama. I’m certain of that. But can I change the way I deal with it?
I have to show Elizabeth I can do better. Without the fake front I’ve always used, what will be left of me? Am I worth more than that? I want to believe that it’s possible, that my own voice will come out. I can try.
I’ll rest here for a couple of hours and then figure out my next step.
Chapter 24
Papi’s car is not in the driveway or in the garage. Is he afraid to face the family too? I know I am. My mind ran marathons as I tried to rest on Elizabeth’s futon. There’s no stopping the ongoing list of people I don’t want to see, mainly him.
I push my key into the lock and turn the knob.
“Where have you been!” Mami shrieks. She’s still in her formal church dress. Anyone else would have at least taken off the heels. She’s uncomfortable even in her own home. “Your father’s been driving around everywhere looking for you. What is going on?”
The whites of her knuckles grip a cell phone. He hasn’t told her. Why would he? There’s no point in breaking the news to her. He’s not worried about me or concerned about where I am. Papi’s scared that I’ll alert the world to his nasty business but I don’t have to. Mami’s silence shows that she’s not completely ignorant.
“You know about Jasmine, don’t you?” I say.
Mami ignores the question. This is not going to be easy but nothing true ever is.
“Where have you been?” she asks. “Have you been with that boy? We warned you about that. Out on the streets at all hours. It’s not the way I . . . the way we raised you.”
She takes a couple of steps away from me as I ask the question again.
“Answer me,” I say. “Answer me, por favor. Don’t shut me out. I want to know. This thing with Jasmine didn’t just happen. You knew the day you came to the supermarket.”
“You’re talking nonsense. Where have you been? Lying to us again. You can’t fool me.” Mami’s fists are clutched to her side. “You are turning into una sucia. A stupid girl with no sense of dignity.”
“I wasn’t with anyone. Can’t say the same about Papi.”
She shakes her head as if she can block what I’m saying. I want her to speak to me. I’ve heard the stories from my aunts when we used to visit Puerto Rico, before the island became too small for Papi. How So-and-so caught her man cheating. The stories never end with “And I left him” or “It destroyed us.” There’s always some forgiveness bit, an acceptance as if cheating is just part of the family fabric. They used to even joke about it. So-and-so has a chilla on the side. I didn’t even know what a chilla meant until Junior told me. We laughed because the word sounded funny. Now the word sounds so abrupt, like a wall. Jasmine, la chilla.
I relent but Mami doesn’t want to hear any of it. She charges past me into the kitchen. She flings open the cabinets and works on the already pristine table. Everything in this house is immaculate. Everything but our family. There are not enough cleaning products to take care of our messes. We are full of flaws.
“Why can’t you kids help me keep this place tidy?” she says. “I say the same thing over and over. No one listens.”
“Mami, will you look at me? Please, stop.” I take the disinfectant spray bottle from her and place it back in the cabinet. “I caught Papi with her. With Jasmine. Out in the parking lot.”
Mami starts again about the house but this time her voice cracks. She lets the rag fall from her hand onto the table.
“Que idiota,” she says. Barely a whisper. The lines that run across her forehead melt away. In their place is a deep sadness. Her eyes well up and seeing her like that makes my eyes well up too.
“Why are you still with him?” I ask. “Why don’t you leave?”
“Leave?” she says with anger. “This is my house. I’ll never give this up just because stupid girls put out for your father.”
Girls. She said girls.
“There’ve been others?” Of course. I was foolish to think Jasmine was a one-time deal. Jasmine warned me about the cashieristas. Young and old. Here I thought it was Junior who was making the moves on them. The punches keep coming.
“Margot, men are different. They view sex differently.”
“Are you going to tell me that the reason why Papi cheats is because it’s part of his genetic makeup?” I can’t take it. This can’t be coming out of her mouth. There’s no way Mami thinks that. She’s always warned me not to trust guys. I never knew that included the men in my immediate family. “Don’t give me that Latino macho bullshit. You don’t believe that.”
“Maybe when you’re older you’ll understand. You’re still a child.”
She has recited these sentences countless times before but there’s no feeling behind them. Trying to shut me up has the opposite effect. I want to scream at the top of my lungs to be heard.
“I’m not a little kid anymore.”
She doesn’t see me. I reach toward her because it feels as if we’re both drowning. I don’t want to go under with her. “You know what happens to people who turn away from their problems? They get tripped up. I don’t want to fall too. Help me figure this out because right now I need you.”
Mami grabs a napkin and methodically cleans up another invisible stain. She’s determined to stand by this cop-out. She lines up the bottles of various spices on the counter like soldiers ready for battle.
“Not everything can be explained away like in one of your lists,” she says. “Life isn’t that simple.”
She turns each of the labels on the spice bottles to face her. Everything in its rightful place. If Mami stopped cleaning she could take a real good look at us. There’s so much to see. If Mami stopped she could find the complicated knots that will take years to undo. Nothing is in order.
“Marriage isn’t easy,” she says. “I love your father. But what held us together when I first met him isn’t as strong. No se.”
She continues. “I have no excuse for your father’s actions but we’ve built a beautiful home for you and your brother, haven’t we? You have the best of everything. You can’t imagine
what your life would have been if I had said no to your father. If I had stayed in Puerto Rico, taking care of your grandfather. The last of the sisters to marry. La fea. I was going to end up alone there. You don’t know how my life would have ended. He took me away from there and look at where we are.”
I study her. I examine the wrinkles around her eyes and the bony fingers. Even with her fallen face filled with sorrow, she’s still prettier than my aunts. Mami told me kids used to tease her because she was darker than her sisters. A spectrum of skin color in one family, just like in mine. La fea. How is she the ugly one? That would make Junior, who looks just like her, ugly too. And me for being a part of her.
The story goes that Papi refused to work in the factory like he was expected to. Instead he moved to New York and took Mami with him. Mami transformed from this mousy little girl with pelo malo to this straightened-hair, eyeliner-wearing woman. New York meant freedom for her. My father may have picked her but it was Mami who made the final selection. So many desperate choices.
For once, I see more than a mother who craves order. I pick up the fallen rag and offer it to her.
“Here,” I say.
With her face still concerned, she tucks one of my stray curls behind my ear.
“You understand, don’t you?” she asks. Right then, she seems so young.
“Yes, Mami. Sure.”
Outside, the slam of a car door is heard. Papi calls to her. Panic sets in. I’m not ready to face him. I can barely handle this moment with Mami. There’s still the whole drug business with Junior I have to tell them about. How am I going to bring that up? I didn’t even have a chance to share that nice little nugget with Elizabeth. Once I tell my parents, a whole new set of dramatics will be added to the mix. I can’t deal with that right now.
“I can’t see him,” I tell her. “Please.”
She nods and lets me go to my room.
I overhear my parents speaking in harsh whispers. Their voices rise and fall. I pull the shades down. Let them figure it out. Right now, I will try to sleep the morning off.
Chapter 25
A crashing sound wakes me from much too short of a nap. Dresser drawers are yanked open and slammed shut. Items are thrown to the floor. Before I can adjust to the noise, heavy footsteps stomp down the hallway toward my room.
“Did you go through my shit?” I notice Junior’s saucer eyes. The warning signs that I once researched and wrote about for a school paper come back to me. Junior climbs onto my bed and drags me off it.
“Were you in my fucking room?” he says. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Let go,” I say. He pulls on my arms.
We’ve wrestled before, when we were young. Sometimes he would easily win. Other times I would win with a sucker punch or a mistaken kick to the groin. But this is no game. Junior aims to drag me straight to his room. My kicks and screams alert everyone as he pulls me in.
“You fucking bitch. Why are you going through my shit?” He pins me down to the floor. “Tell me where it is before I wipe you all over this room.”
“Are you crazy?” I yell back. “Let go.”
“Where is it? I swear to God, if you don’t tell me right now I’m going to punch the shit out of you!”
Somewhere during the night’s commotion, I dropped the stash. It might be with the group of guys situated in front of the supermarket, giving them a seriously strong high. Or it could be by the community garden. I have no idea.
“Where the fuck is it?” Junior raises his hand ready to strike. I cower on the floor.
“Por Dios, Junior! Stop this!” Mami yells.
Papi grabs hold of Junior’s shoulders and tosses him aside. With Junior’s thin frame, it doesn’t take much effort. Junior jumps up and rams Papi into the floor. Mami screams.
“Mind your business,” Junior growls at him.
“Que carajo. Crees que es hombre.” Papi gets up from the floor and pushes him against the wall. “Don’t think I won’t beat you because you’re my son.”
Part of me wants Junior to kick Papi’s ass. To hit him for messing with those girls. I have hate for both of the men in my life but this anger isn’t saved only for them. There’s a little piece of it for Mami too as she tries to contain this drama.
Junior realizes he isn’t battling little ol’ me but both parents. He looks like a caged animal.
“She stole some money from me,” he says. He tries to calm down.
“You better tell him,” I say.
“This is bullshit,” Junior says.
“Junior, what’s going on?” Mami asks. “There must be a mistake.” She’s always the first to forgive him. Even when Papi told her that Junior was kicked out of school she blamed the university and the wrestling coach.
“Look, okay, it’s not a big deal. Margot found some things in my room that don’t belong to me,” he says.
“There’s a box filled with drugs and money,” I say. “It’s in the closet.”
“Shut up, Margot. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Papi storms to the closet. He tosses clothes everywhere. It doesn’t take long for him to find the box. He dumps the contents on Junior’s bed. Even as Junior swears innocence, the box spills forth the truth.
“You know how it is, how business works,” Junior says. “C’mon, Papi, how you gonna believe Margot? She’s just a stupid kid. She lied about Moises and about Oscar. Who do you think stole those cases of beer?”
“What is this, Junior?” Mami asks. I can see that her heart is breaking because there’s no way she can defend this. “No entiendo. Que haces con estas drogas?” She takes hold of his face and looks intensely at him. Junior pushes her hand away. He wants Papi.
“You always take Princesa’s side. She can never do anything wrong, right?” he says. “I’m the fuck-up. I work like a slave, in return I get shit.”
“You sat in my office with Oscar and you watched as I fired that man.” Papi finally talks. “You knew the truth and you never said a word.”
“Naw, Papi, c’mon,” Junior says. His bony arms stay crossed in front of him. He shifts his weight from one leg to the next as if he can’t decide which way to lean. “You know that’s not true. I’m trying to do something here. It’s business. This is temporary until I have enough cash for the bar. If you’d given me the money I wouldn’t have to do this. As soon as I was established I would have put the money I borrowed from the supermarket back.”
“You took me for a fool,” Papi says. “I trusted you. Both of you.”
Papi talks about trust when he’s no expert. His eyes avoid mine as if he can read my mind. It’s only a matter of time before Papi unleashes his wrath on Junior. The longer the silence, the more intense the atmosphere.
He picks up the money and places the bundles neatly back in the box. He grabs the little baggies filled with deadly rocks and puts them back too. Then Papi sits down by the edge of the bed with the box on his lap. He looks small. Old.
“Are things that bad between us?” Papi says.
He puts both hands on his face, and then he does the one thing I’ve never seen him do. Papi cries. The man who always knows what to say and when to say it, the man I believed could do no wrong, sobs.
Junior and I watch as Papi’s whole body heaves with emotion so much that he shakes the bed. This terrifies me.
After a long moment, Mami walks over to Papi and places a hand on his shoulder. Then she trails her hand down his back.
“Ya, Victor. Cálmate,” she says. He cries even more. She’s never been so delicate with him. I’m rattled to witness this exchange and angry too. Let him cry. Let him suffer. But she won’t. Mami lifts the box from his lap and tucks it under her arm.
“Come,” she says. This time her voice is firm. “Vamos.”
Mami cradles him with one arm like an injured child. Papi leans on her and she doesn’t resist the burden. She holds him upright and walks him to their bedroom. Mami closes the door behind them.
Junior slides down to the floor. He curls his hands into fists and covers his eyes. Without making a sound, I leave him there.
Chapter 26
Papi tries again while I’m in the kitchen. The last time he started up a conversation with me I shot it down by dropping a glass full of water. Tiny pieces of shattered glass covered the tiled floor, reaching his brown dress shoes. It’s only been a couple of days since the Sanchez family meltdown. There’s no going back to that time when things were normal between us. The best I can do right now is to avoid him.
“Princesa.” He calls to me as I exit the kitchen and leave my bowl of oatmeal untouched on the counter.
It’s seven in the morning and this house is already unbearable. I go outside and get on my bike. Junior will probably be Papi’s next target. There was another confrontation between them last night. Ultimatums made. The word “rehab” mentioned. Junior refuses to admit he has a problem. More screaming. More accusations. I don’t want to stick around for a repeat performance.
The goal is to ride my bike to the nearest diner. Thankfully I have my laptop. I can stay here as long as I have to. From the diner’s large windows, I’m able to see cars heading toward the city. It’s Wednesday and I should be at the supermarket. I wonder what’s going on there. I’m sure the whole place is aware of our dirty little secret. Apparently Mami convinced Oscar to take his job back. I can’t believe he said yes. He should sue for wrongful termination or at least ask for a serious raise. He deserves it.
“Want some more?” the waitress asks. The diner is busy. I sit at the far end of the counter to be out of the way. The waitress recognized me. Elizabeth and I used to come here. We always shared the breakfast special: two eggs, bacon, and home fries.
This alone time gives me a lot to think about. Not everything is bad. There are glimpses of hope. Yesterday Mami dropped the divorce bomb on Papi. She said it loud, with serious conviction. Then again, it could have just been something she said in anger. I don’t know. Either way, they need to work that out and keep it away from me.
The Education of Margot Sanchez Page 18
