“Hey.” My throat goes dry. I wait for him to go over to Elizabeth and give her a kiss or hug, an appropriate greeting for a new couple, but he doesn’t. Sure, Elizabeth hasn’t brought him up much other than mentioning the festival but I figured that’s just evidence that she’s hiding their relationship from me.
“We can use some more rope,” I say. “Do you have any?”
Elizabeth agrees.
“One sec.” Moises goes off and I’m relieved that I didn’t fall flat on my face. He soon comes back with the rope, then leaves again as someone else calls out for help. Elizabeth barely looks at him.
One of the easels topples over. I run to help Elizabeth before the whole thing crashes to the ground. Strange how she didn’t give Moises the time of day. She doesn’t have to pretend on my account. I can handle their coupling.
“You don’t have to play it safe for me,” I say.
Elizabeth looks confused.
“You and Moises,” I say.
She sets the canvas down. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I mean, you guys are so, um, cold to each other. You don’t have to be. I’m okay with it.”
“Okay with what?”
She really wants me to spell it out.
“Going out. You and Moises seeing each other. I’m fine with it.”
“Hahaha.” She snorts. “Moises? Me and Moises?”
Even Paloma joins in on the laughter.
“I’m not seeing Moises,” Elizabeth says. “Hahaha!”
“I just thought since you guys spend so much time . . .”
“Oh, Margot. You can be so dumb. We’re friends. Besides, he’s not my type. I like artists. You know that.”
“I did. I mean I used to. I don’t know. I’ll shut up now,” I mumble. This makes them both giggle even more.
The mind is such a tricky thing. I basically created a whole relationship based on jealousy. Not sure when I’ll ever let that trait go and learn to trust those around me. This won’t happen overnight. It will take practice.
The deejay turns down the music. Moises takes to the microphone and is joined by a few important-looking men and one frail grandma type.
“Thank you for coming out to the Stop the Orion Community Block Party. This is going to be a full day. Bella will be doing some arts and crafts activities over there for the kids. Raise your hand, Bella! And definitely check out Elizabeth’s paintings. We will be raffling one off to a lucky winner. A dollar a ticket. All funds go to the community.”
“And what if I don’t win?” jokes a young mother who holds a baby girl. “I’m serious. Dollar can’t buy much but I need my money. What can you give me in return, boo?”
Poised as he is, Moises is caught off guard and doesn’t have a quick comeback. This is his thing and yet there he is onstage at a total loss.
“Honey, you’re holding the mike. I want to win something. What can you do for me?” she says, high-fiving her friend. The crowd enjoys seeing Moises squirm. I do too.
Moises laughs. He’s nervous.
“Don’t worry, baby.” She lets up after a few more jabs. “I’ll let you do your thing.”
“Thank you,” he says, and pulls out a bandana to wipe his forehead. “DJ Forty is going to do his thing. But first, here’s someone I want you to meet. This is Doña Petra. She’s been living at the Eagle Avenue building, the same building Carrillo Estates wants to tear down for some overpriced condos.”
Doña Petra isn’t shy at all. She grabs hold of the microphone and yells into it. The noise wakes everyone up. Moises whispers to her and she starts again.
“I live here. Yo vivo aquí,” Doña Petra says. “Ustedes me conocen. And I say it too in English, porque sí. This is my home and I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
Doña Petra talks with such passion. Everyone feels the energy. Even I feel it. She has a right to her home. We all do.
“Help me stay here with you,” she says. “Mi familia.”
“That’s right!” says Paloma. “We got your back, Doña!”
“You better believe it!” I yell. Elizabeth and Paloma both turn to me.
“Look at Margot,” Paloma says. “Who knew she was so Boogie Down?”
“Maybe I am,” I say.
I don’t see Moises for the rest of the event. He’s way too busy, which is fine. I’m busy too, dancing with Paloma.
Chapter 29
The piragüero greets me with a “Buenos días.” He’s by the train station, in the line of fire. Although it’s eight in the morning, way too early for a frozen crushed ice treat, I pay for one anyway. The sugary-sweet cherry-flavored ice tastes so good.
When I told Mami I wanted to come in to work she couldn’t understand why. School starts this Wednesday and technically I completed my ten weeks of work. But I told her I had a few things to finish. There are apologies that need to be made.
I walk into the supermarket as Oscar goes over the agenda for the month, which includes back-to-school specials. I stand in the back with the stock boys. Everyone whispers around me. My appearance here is the bochinche of the day. I’m sure they’ve analyzed what went down with my family and who can blame them? It’s the story of the century and it’s got everything in it—sex, drugs, and betrayal. No need to watch any soaps. Just follow the Sanchez & Sons daily drama.
“The candy stands have to be replenished and placed in front of the cashiers,” Oscar says. He sits comfortably atop the conveyor belt, the spot Papi usually occupies. Running the meeting is simple for Oscar. He knows what to do.
Papi is at the Kingsbridge location. The rumor about the store being shut down is true. Roughly fifty people are about to lose their jobs. It’s terrible. The new shopping complex is already holding cattle-call interviews for the new supermarket. The complex will also house a Target and a BJ’s Wholesale Club. The neighborhood is changing and there’s a sense that everything has to be buckled down to keep people from losing their stake. My guess is that my family will hold on to the original Sanchez & Sons supermarket for as long as they can. I try my best not to jump to the future. The what-ifs can keep a person frozen, keep them from doing anything. Instead, I take baby steps. For example, dishes were not thrown at Papi’s feet this week. Progress.
After the meeting concludes, Rosa settles in at the first register, the register that belongs to Jasmine. Rosa digs into her purse and pulls out a small statue of Jesus on the cross. Before securing the statue on a corner visible to each customer, she kisses it and crosses herself.
Another reason why I came. I was assured that Jasmine wouldn’t be here. They’ve given her a sort of medical leave. She has high blood pressure and the stress is too much for the pregnancy. Jasmine is keeping the baby. I get so angry thinking about it. Elizabeth told me it’s Jasmine’s decision and I should try not to judge her for it. Of course I’m going to judge her. Her choice is causing so much destruction. Then again, my parents haven’t been living that marital bliss life for some time. My fluctuating emotions make me dizzy.
I walk upstairs to the office. Oscar stands over the desk.
“Do you have a moment?” I ask.
“Sí,” he says.
“I’m sorry for the lies I told and the stealing,” I say. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused you and your family.”
Oscar’s expression is serious. There are no jolly grins this time around.
“I also have this to give you.” I hand him a sealed envelope. “It’s from Junior.”
It took Mami everything to convince Junior that it was time for him to get help. They found a rehab somewhere upstate.
“I fucked up, Margot,” Junior said the night before he left for Carmel. No truer words have been uttered. He looked so dejected, like he’d been on a treadmill going nowhere for hours.
“I’m gonna make things right,” he said. “Watch. I’m going to change. I’m going to stop hanging with them bums.”
A thought crossed my mind, something I’d been wanting to ask
him.
“What was it about Moises that made you hate him so much?”
“I didn’t hate him. Look, I don’t want any guy talking to my sister,” Junior said. Then he shook his head. “After I got kicked off the team, his brother helped me deal with it. I didn’t need Moises telling you that.”
I didn’t press him for more details. I understood what he meant. Secrets can cause more pain than facing the truth head-on. I continued to help him pack, and underneath a pile of clothes on the floor I spotted a familiar light blue color. With my toe, I nudged away the pile and unearthed the lost Tiffany box.
“There it is.” I reached down and traced the edges of the empty box with my finger. “It was pretty.”
“Yeah, it was,” he said. “I’ll buy you another one.”
“No, I don’t need one.”
He stopped packing. “You don’t think I can do it?” He held the sides of his suitcase as if he were thinking about jumping in.
“No, that’s not it.” I pushed his hand away so that I could fold another shirt. “I’m too old for charm necklaces. Now, if you want to buy me some diamond earrings . . .”
“Aw, I see how you are,” he said.
Before he left, he handed me the envelope and asked me to give it to Oscar. A written apology for now. It’s a start. We both have to do more.
“You know, Oscar, I bet your wife needs a little break. I can babysit whenever you want,” I say. “During the weekends.”
“Oh no. Con eso muchachos? Estás loca. They will break you into two. Did I tell you what I caught them doing the other day?” he asks. There’s a glint in his eyes. “They took my cell phone and started calling long distance, looking for their abuela. No, those two are a handful.”
Out of habit, he pulls out the picture in his wallet and shows it to me. I act as if it’s my first time seeing it. The lie is worth it just to see his happiness.
“I can handle the boys,” I say. “Please let me do this. Let’s figure out a day.”
He eventually agrees. On my phone I pull up the website I created for the supermarket using a simple template. The site isn’t live yet so it’s still pretty rough. It’s going to take some time to build an audience but I have some ideas. We talk about promoting the sales of the week and profiling the workers. I suggest Roberto because I can already envision the side-eye picture.
Downstairs, Dominic stocks the cans of tomato sauce. I walk over to him and open the box next to him. I left my usual fashion uniform home. It’s easier to work in jeans.
“How’s your girlfriend?” I ask.
“Chilling,” he says. “This is the longest I’ve ever been with one girl. She might be the one.”
“Really?” He hands over the price gun. I’m faster when it comes to pricing. “Are you talking wedding?”
“Naw, you crazy,” he says. “I’m talking about going all the way.”
I shake my head at him, and then notice when he glances over to the front of the supermarket. I wonder if he is as nervous as I am about Jasmine popping up unannounced.
It’s impossible to banish Jasmine from my thoughts. I tried everything. Hating her with such passion that I made myself sick. Then shame replaced the anger and then went back to anger. Elizabeth thought I was crazy to come back here knowing Jasmine might be around. This is Jasmine’s neighborhood but I don’t want to live my life afraid of crossing the street. This isn’t where I live but it’s where my family works. This place will always be a part of me.
How do I feel about a possible half sister or half brother in the family? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. It’s going to take a lot of time and probably a lot of therapy. Mami is looking into someone for me to talk to and I’m okay with that.
“You heard the latest by MiT?” Dominic asks. Before I answer him, he raps the song to me. His hair is even more shellacked today.
“It’s okay,” I say.
“Damn, Princesa, you’re hard to please,” he says.
We soon fall into a rhythm. He hands me a can. I price it and place it on the shelf. He opens another box and we start again. Dominic hums the song and soon the song seeps in and I hum along.
Chapter 30
The plan was always to reach out to him. I made that decision even before I saw him at the block party. Moises is on my Get Really Real List so it was just a matter of time. When and where. Still, sending the text wasn’t easy. I compiled a list of possible asks. Number three ultimately won out: Are you available to meet me for lunch? I opted for formality instead of the casual number five: Hey, you hungry? which might have read like it came from some insane girl.
It took Moises exactly thirty-two minutes to respond to my text. Thirty-two excruciatingly long minutes. He agreed to meet me at his favorite bench. The walk here was filled with anxiety and it has increased tenfold now that I see him sitting there waiting for me.
“I got you a Cuban sandwich,” I say, and hand him the brown paper bag. Moises peeks in and nods approval.
“Thanks,” he says. I sit next to him and try to let go of some of my nervousness. He wears a green shirt with an image of an old album cover titled The Fania All-Stars and his worn jeans.
“So, I heard what went down,” he says. “How’s your brother doing?”
“He’s handling it. Rehab is hard but he’s trying. My family is going through some serious changes,” I say. “Anyway, thanks for answering my text and for meeting me.”
Moises nods his head.
“Yeah, I feel you about changes,” he says. “It looks like the city will probably give Carrillo Estates the green light for the condos.” He juts his chin out to where the Royal Orion will be built.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say. I thought for sure Moises and the Family Mission had a strong chance of beating Carrillo Estates. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it’s a tough fight but it will be a long process. They still have a bunch of hurdles to overcome. This is just the beginning. We’ll have to step up our game or the families will be the real victims.”
We let that sink in while we eat our sandwiches.
“I start Somerset Prep on Wednesday,” I say, sounding a little glum. “I guess summer is officially over.”
Mami has planned a mother-daughter weekend getaway in Connecticut. Just the two of us. She said something about wanting to check out the antique shops. Papi is staying at his cousin’s in Yonkers. Without the drama of Junior, the house is super quiet. I don’t know what’s going to happen to my parents. Divorce? Probably. Jasmine being pregnant can’t possibly be a good thing for a marriage. There are times when Mami seems strong and determined. Other times when she doesn’t even bother concealing her tears from me. We’re each trying to deal with the situation differently and it’s in no way perfect.
“So, I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me,” Moises says. “What’s up?”
Although he tries to sound cold he’s not directly looking at me. Instead, he concentrates on the ground. And because I’m as nervous as he is, I keep focused on my sandwich.
“Nothing. I was just wondering . . . What I mean is . . .” I’m rambling. I’ve got to pull myself together. This is something I want to do.
“I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you that night in the Hamptons. For everything. I was mean and you didn’t deserve it, not when you were just trying to help me,” I say. “Even with what happened between us, I still want to be friends. That is, if you want to.”
He goes silent and it takes everything in me not to run away. It’s not easy being real. This new path is unfamiliar. Moises agreed to lunch but he doesn’t owe me a friendship or anything else for that matter. I rub the etched words on the new necklace I got from Paloma and wait.
“What about your boy Nick?” he asks. “Your fancy school friends. What about them?”
“There are no boys. There’s only me,” I say. “That’s it. Just me.”
Eventually I face him. We smile. Two goofy grins.
We sit there and watch the kids play.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First I must thank editor Zareen Jaffery, Mekisha Telfer, and the rest of the Simon & Schuster staff for not only making my dream come true but for making this such a warm and effortless first publishing experience. A heartfelt thanks must go to my amazing agent, Eddie Schneider of JABberwocky Literary Agency, for pulling my novel from the slush pile. It does happen. I will forever be grateful.
To my writer’s group (Elizabeth, Hilary, Cindy, Jason, Josh, and Mary), thank you for being such early champions of my work. I am indebted to author and generous instructor Al Watt for instilling the belief that I could actually write a novel. I also owe a lot to PEN Center USA for awarding me a 2013 Emerging Voices Fellowship and for connecting me with my kind mentor, children’s author Cecil Castellucci. I am grateful to the Elizabeth George Foundation, whose generous grant allowed me the time and resources to complete this novel.
Thanks goes to Jean Ho for always being there. And a big love goes to Kima Jones of Jack Jones Literary Arts for talking me out of many meltdowns.
Love is sent to my family living in the Bronx, Puerto Rico, and beyond. To my beautiful nieces, Taina and Brianne, for always sharing my passion for young adult books. Big hugs are due to Melody, Tonalli, Antonio, and Ariana. I am also forever indebted to the collective energy, humor, and belief of my talented siblings, Annabel, Hector, Edgardo, and Osvaldo, and my parents, Hector and Ana. Our shared memories and love for the Bronx helped shape this novel.
My two beautiful daughters, Isabelle and Sophia Colette, are my constant inspirations. I love you both. And lastly, no amount of words can express how much I owe my husband, David. Thank you for everything.
Lilliam Rivera is a 2016 Pushcart Prize winner and a freelance writer with work in Tin House, the Los Angeles Times, and Latina, among others. Originally from the Bronx, New York, Lilliam now lives in Los Angeles with her family. Visit her at LilliamRivera.com.
Simon & Schuster • New York
The Education of Margot Sanchez Page 20
