“Seems like you’re managing,” Kiki said. “And at the risk of spoiling them completely, I have to agree. It was a great show.”
“What was your favorite part?” Bubbles asked Xochi. “Besides the costumes,” she said, blowing Kiki a kiss.
“The end,” Xochi said. “It was all great, but the end was magical.” She closed her eyes, reliving Leviticus and Io’s final ode to spring the night before.
She turned to Leviticus. “When I saw you and Io up there, it made perfect sense that Pallas is so special.”
Leviticus blinked, his coffee cup paused mid-rise. “Thanks,” he said. “I was kind of worried you thought we were shitty parents.”
“What? Of course not!”
“But?” He held her eyes like it was a test.
“But . . . twelve can be brutal. Don’t get me wrong. Pallas is amazing. She’s like a cross between a Jane Austen heroine and a pirate.”
“Kind of makes you proud to be a father,” Leviticus said.
“I want some credit for the pirate part!” Aaron grinned.
“The Jane Austen is all me and Io.” Kiki nodded. “Good thing we have you boys and Bubbles to even things out.”
“See?” Xochi said. “You’re good parents, a good family. But she’s growing up fast. Maybe she needs something different right now.”
The kitchen was silent. Sunlight streamed out from behind a cloud, turning the room gold.
Leviticus exhaled. “I guess we’ve got some work to do for our girl.”
“I remember when she was born. So tiny.” Kiki sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear. She got up and started collecting the glasses and plates strewn around the kitchen.
“I remember being twelve,” Bubbles said. “It sucked so bad.”
“I always knew we’d be in trouble when she started calling us on our shit.” Aaron rolled up his sleeves and headed for the sink. “Twelve or not, that kid is smarter than the rest of us put together.”
“Tell me about it,” Xochi said. “I can’t even get around without her. Every time I go out on my own, I’m totally lost.”
Leviticus leaned back in his chair. “What are you doing today, Xochi?”
“I’m not sure. Seems like Pallas is hanging out with Io? I’ll probably just wander around the city and get lost again.”
“Want a tour?”
Aaron groaned. Bubbles pantomimed a yawn behind Leviticus’s back. Kiki mouthed boring.
“Don’t listen to them, kid,” Leviticus said. “My city tours are famous.”
“You could come shopping with me,” Bubbles said. “After I take a nap . . .”
“It’s too late now,” Kiki said. “Look at him.”
Leviticus was paging through the newspaper. He stopped at the weather report. “It’s supposed to be perfect. Sunny now, cloudy later. Great weather for a ride.”
“You don’t have to humor him,” Bubbles said, “but if you say no, he’ll pout.”
“I don’t know what could possibly be boring about a tour of San Francisco,” Xochi said in her best governess tone. Suddenly, she realized what she was agreeing to. But Kiki was right. It was too late.
“I’ll meet you out back,” Leviticus said. “Make sure to dress warm and wear your leather jacket.”
10
I Left My Heart in San Francisco
The afternoon was cold and clear. Colors pushed for attention in the fogless air, wide awake and ready for spring. Xochi’s body remembered what to do after the first few awkward moments on Leviticus’s motorcycle. Her hands found a reasonable place to rest around his waist as he cruised through Golden Gate Park, heading west toward the ocean. A remote wooded area Xochi had never seen opened into a field. Leviticus parked and hurried toward a chain-link fence; Xochi pulled off her helmet and followed.
Behind the fence was an improbable sight: a herd of giant horned animals calmly grazing.
Xochi yelped. “Are they buffalo?”
“Bison.”
“They’re beautiful!” Their rusty coats reminded her of the shaggy bark on old-growth redwoods back home. She gazed at one of the massive regal creatures. It returned her scrutiny, lumbering closer until it was a few feet from the fence. “I can’t believe they’re just . . . here. Who takes care of them?”
“Technically, they belong to the zoo. Look.” Leviticus motioned toward Xochi’s imposing friend. “See how broad her shoulders are? You can tell she’s female. They’re burlier than the males.”
“Hi, beauty,” Xochi called. The lady bison came closer. One of her horns was longer than the other and slightly chipped on one side.
“I love these guys.” Leviticus’s face was boyish with excitement. “I have to say, your reaction is much more satisfying than Pal’s was.”
“Was she upset because they were fenced in?”
“She was upset about the European conquest of the Americas. It was my fault—I was reading her The People’s History of the United States.”
“Do you think it’s possible to be too smart?”
“I’ve been living with too smart for almost thirteen years.”
They watched the bison again in silence. The curious herd member nosed the fence, then snorted and trotted back to her family. Xochi and Leviticus got back onto the motorcycle.
The wide, curving roads of the park led back to city streets and into the wooded lanes of the Presidio. Breathing in the green, Xochi started to relax. The forest was one of the only things she missed about Badger Creek. That and motorcycles. She used to bully Collier, her best friend and then sort-of boyfriend, into letting her ride his beat-up Honda. Collier always said Xochi liked his motorcycle at least thirty percent more than she liked him. She denied it, but Collier had always been good at math. Racing away from their crappy town after school, it was easy to pretend she’d never have to go home. Now she was glad she knew how to be a good passenger, moving with Leviticus into the turns, holding on firmly, but not too tight.
Leviticus rode well. Xochi laughed every time they picked up speed until he finally revved the engine and really took off. They scaled the steep hills along the cable car route, zooming down at an almost vertical angle and cresting another hill to see the bay spread out before them. As they maneuvered down the famous roller-coaster twists of Lombard, slowly this time, Xochi had a chance to look around. The parts of the city she’d explored on her own tended toward seediness with the faded beauty of an old lady dressed up to ride the bus, but the houses in this neighborhood had always been prosperous.
“I wouldn’t be the same person if I’d grown up in a house like that,” Xochi said, gazing at a Spanish stucco mansion flanked by towering manicured palms.
Leviticus twisted to look at her. The light changed and they rode away, backtracking down Van Ness and stopping in front of a crowded restaurant on Mission Street.
“This is where I grew up,” he said. “Right around the corner.”
“Are we eating?”
“We are. There’s no way you’re missing this.”
Floral plastic cloths covered the tables of the cafeteria-style restaurant, and Day-Glo paintings of the Virgin Mary and Elvis crowded the walls. An oldies station blared from the kitchen, a backbeat for the big spoons clanging against metal tubs of rice and beans.
A team of brown-ponytailed soccer girls in red uniforms scarfed silver-wrapped burritos, switching seamlessly from Spanish to English to tease each other between bites. A large family ate together at a long table, everyone smiling at the toddler dancing in his grandmother’s lap. Xochi’s stomach rumbled as they stood in line. Leviticus ordered in Spanish.
“How do you know Spanish?” Xochi asked.
“My dad. He’s Mexican.”
“Mine too. I never knew him, though.”
Before Badger Creek, Xochi and Gina had lived in an endless string of sub
urbs. In some schools, it seemed like Xochi was the only kid without blonde hair and freckles. Her experience with Mexican food started and ended with Taco Bell. Even after two years of high school Spanish, she was hopeless. What would it have been like to know her dad’s family? To grow up bilingual? Leviticus’s skin was a shade lighter than hers, but here, among other Latinos, his features made sense.
The restaurant was already full, so Xochi and Leviticus ate their burritos outside, leaning against the wall.
“This place is the best.” She slurped the final sip of her soda. “It’s nice seeing other brown faces.”
“Huh,” he said. “I hadn’t thought of that. Probably not much variety up north?”
“There’s some. Native Americans mostly, at least in my town. People always ask if I’m Native. Or Hawaiian. I’ve also gotten Greek and Chinese. But no one ever guesses Mexican.”
“I could tell right away,” Leviticus said.
“Really?” Xochi grinned.
“Uh, yeah. Ever look in the mirror?” He grinned and took her trash, crumpling it with his. “I know how it is being mixed. Not one thing, not the other.”
“Exactly.” Xochi sighed and zipped up her leather jacket.
“So,” he said, “how you doing? Up for more sightseeing?”
“Absolutely,” Xochi said. “I don’t know what those guys were talking about. This tour is the best.”
Leviticus laughed and put on his helmet. Xochi was glad it was time to get back on the motorcycle. She needed a break from looking at him.
They rode quietly for a while, cruising up narrow alleys and down hidden side streets. Her helmet muffled the noise of the pedestrians, but Xochi’s ears still tingled with the buzz and flow of the Spanish she’d heard at the restaurant. Her eyes were drawn to the words on shop signs along Valencia Street: bodega, tienda, botanica.
Leviticus braked in front of a rickety duplex that might have been nice a century ago. He pulled off his helmet and gazed at the run-down building, its yard strewn with trash.
“You used to live here?”
Leviticus looked like Xochi felt when she thought about the past.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, this isn’t usually a stop on my tour.”
“It’s okay. I like knowing where people come from.” Xochi tried to remember if she’d ever seen him touch Io, ever seen them kiss.
“One more stop, all right?”
“I’m up for anything!” She put her hands back on his waist, the leather of his jacket still warm from her grip.
Leviticus drove through the financial district and headed for the narrow streets of North Beach. He parked in front of City Lights Bookstore.
“I tried so hard to find this place when I first moved here. I took three buses and never even got close!” Xochi swayed as she got off the motorcycle, legs stiff from the ride. Leviticus grabbed her shoulders to steady her. The street was oddly quiet.
“Come on.” He steered her toward the entrance. For the first time, he was a little awkward, pushing the door a few times before realizing he needed to pull.
Alone among the shelves, Xochi fought the urge to pick something designed to make her seem smart or sophisticated. She settled on the poetry section, an honest interest.
“Find anything?” Leviticus’s voice tickled Xochi’s ear like a polite, velvet-nosed animal.
“It’s hard to know where to start. I’d like to read some female poets.”
Leviticus walked with purpose. “Do you know Sandra Cisneros or Diane di Prima? Or how about Sylvia Plath?”
“I’ve read The Bell Jar,” Xochi said, careful not to add that it had been for a high school English class.
“Here.” Leviticus handed Xochi a thin volume titled Ariel. She opened it at random to a poem—“The Rival.” Startled, she closed the book. The poem’s lines evoked an image of Io the night before, her pale face a bright moon on the dark stage.
“I have a first edition I’m saving for Pallas,” he said.
“It looks great.”
At the register, Xochi took a crumpled wad of money from her jeans pocket, but Leviticus already had his wallet out to pay. He took the book from Xochi’s hand and sniffed. “You guys have the best bookstore smell,” Leviticus told the clerk.
“It’s the mold,” the clerk said. “Nothing ever dries out this close to the bay.”
“Thank you,” Xochi said as they walked out of the store.
Darkness had transformed the neighborhood. Neon signs advertised big al’s playboy club, the garden of eden, and the lusty lady, where a topless cartoon redhead danced, the words “live nude girls” blinking on and off below her high-heeled shoes.
“Back in the day, this street was crawling with pirates,” Leviticus told her. “They’d drop anchor in the bay and come here to spend their doubloons.”
“Seems like it hasn’t changed much.”
“Yeah. We traded our brothels and saloons for punk clubs and peep shows.” He gestured to the bar across the street. “Wanna see where all the beat poets used to drink?”
“Um, sure,” Xochi said. With luck, she wouldn’t be carded.
She followed Leviticus into the bar, its wooden tables and mismatched chairs filled with people talking and laughing. The bartender greeted Leviticus by name and gave Xochi a long look, but didn’t stop them when they sat at a table in the back.
Xochi’s eyes adjusted to the light. The narrow elliptical room was taller than it was deep, with a curved staircase leading up to a second level. She recalled a block from a shape sorter she’d had as a small child. She’d played with that contraption longer than she was supposed to, but the satisfaction of fitting the solid wooden blocks into the right holes never faded.
“What’ll it be?” Leviticus shrugged off his leather jacket.
“A pint of Guinness?” It was Xochi’s favorite, considered more medicinal than alcoholic in Badger Creek. Loretta swore it was the best cure ever for cramps.
A few heads turned as Leviticus went to order their drinks, but they turned away quickly. He was handsome, of course, but not as pretty as Pad, who probably wreaked havoc just walking into a bar. There was a calm, bearlike energy about him Xochi appreciated.
She watched as he and the bartender bantered, Leviticus’s laugh a pleasant growl. The bartender gestured toward Xochi. Crap, she thought. I’m gonna get kicked out after all. But then he pounded Leviticus on the shoulder and waved him away with their drinks, two pints of Guinness and a shot.
“The whiskey is for you.” Leviticus set the drinks down between them. “Compliments of the house. You don’t have to drink it. It’s Leo—he says you look like a whiskey girl. He thought about carding you, but he changed his mind. Pretty girls are good for business.”
Had he just called her pretty? No, it had been Leo who’d done that. Pretty and not quite legal, like a bad country song.
Xochi glanced at the bar. Leo raised a glass in her direction. What else could she do but raise her own shot and drink?
“Well,” Leviticus said, “underage or not, I see you’re no stranger to the bottle.”
“I grew up with a bunch of guys. I learned to keep up.” Xochi made sure to keep her voice light. It’s not like I lied, she told herself. No one ever asked how old I was. I doubt most of them know my last name.
“So,” Leviticus said, stretching out his legs and putting his feet up on the chair beside her, “what’s your story, kid?”
Xochi tried to ignore the proximity of his boots, resisting both the urge to move closer and the urge to scoot away. “My story?” She took a long drink of beer.
“What brought you here?”
There were so many ways she could answer, none of them good. “I was traveling.” It was what she always said, an explanation that could mean anything. She thought of Collier for the second time that day. She shou
ld have left him a note, written a letter. She imagined his face when he called and called. When he came to the door. When he finally understood she wasn’t coming back.
“I was hitchhiking, actually.” She was slipping, too relaxed. She waited for the look of horror on Leviticus’s face. She wouldn’t blame him—it was horrible. If Xochi hadn’t gotten a ride from those college kids on their way home from Humboldt State, who knew where she’d be now. She searched his face, but there was no judgment. He was just listening. “I ended up at a crappy hotel in the Tenderloin. An SRO? I don’t even know what that stands for.”
“Single room occupancy,” he said. “And cockroaches.”
“Yep.”
“Then what?” He leaned back, seeming certain she’d spill her secrets. But what else was there to say? That she’d spent her first two weeks in the city huddled under the scratchy bedspread either crying or asleep? That she’d lived on two-dollar pizza slices and peanut butter sandwiches? That she’d filled out application after application but not one place had ever called to offer her a job?
“I walked a lot,” she said. “I fell in love.”
Leviticus leaned forward slightly.
“With the city,” she finished. “I fell in love with the city.”
“What about it?” His boots were still distracting her. She imagined resting her palm on the worn black leather, feeling the warmth of his foot inside. She’d lost track of the silence. Had it been too long? No, she thought. Just a sliver of time. A wingbeat or two, that was all.
“I think it’s the light,” she said. “When it’s overcast, the air is so soft. Everything glows like moonlight in the daytime. And then the sun comes out, and it’s like Dorothy opening the door to Oz. The other day, we had fog and sun at the same time. Everyone on the streetcar started whispering, like it was a spell they were afraid to break.”
“Monday.” Leviticus smiled at the corners of his eyes. “Ky and Aaron took me surfing in Bolinas.” That explained the strong shoulders, the gorgeous arms. “The bridge looked detached, like it was about to float away.”
All of Us with Wings Page 6
