“Mocosa! You gave me un susto!” Beatriz would scream. “Déjame sola!” Beatriz was furious at the devilish little girl whose only value seemed to be to make Beatriz’s teenage years miserable. Perla was the baby of the family—a surprise addition and the only other girl after Beatriz and their four brothers. Perla took delight in tormenting Beatriz, getting under her skin, needling her, annoying her, being the sand in her wet bathing suit, the broken nail, the lone pimple before an important day. But for as much as Perla liked making her big sister miserable, she adored her even more. Beatriz’s last memories of Perla were not of her as a young woman but as that devious little girl with the gummy smile, the long, knobby-kneed legs, and skin dark as molasses from playing in the sun.
Ay, Perla, Beatriz lamented. You should be here.
When Beatriz returned to the house, the boys were in the kitchen. Carlos was waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, speaking into his cell phone. Wally and Seamus, who had stayed overnight, were rooting through the refrigerator. Seamus found a batch of tamales and unwrapped them.
“Which ones are those?” Raúl asked, peeling a banana. Seamus shrugged.
“I made some beans last night,” Carlos said to Seamus, holding the phone away from his mouth. “Pull them out for me, will you?”
“Buenas, muchachos,” Beatriz said, walking over to the sink to deposit her cup. She tried not to be too nosy about who Carlos was talking to on his phone.
“Aunt B, do you know where the Tres Leches cake is?” Seamus asked, ignoring Carlos’s earlier request.
“No, and even if I did, you’re not eating cake for breakfast,” Beatriz said. “How about some eggs?”
“No, no, no!” Carlos said, as he ended his call. “We thought we should make you and Dad breakfast.”
“We did?” Wally and Raúl said in unison. They looked at each other with surprise, then repeated in unison again. “We did?” The boys broke into laughter, very amused with themselves.
“Ugh! You’re like those creepy girls in that old Godzilla movie you made us watch last night,” Seamus said to Raúl.
“I like those movies,” Wally chirped, always happy to be included with whatever the big boys were doing. He bobbled over to Raúl, who offered the little boy a piece of the banana he’d just peeled. Seamus threw a tamal at his brother, but Beatriz intercepted it before it hit its intended target.
“Ay, no! This better not be a sign of things to come,” Beatriz said, remembering the weird sensation she had experienced in bed, in the backyard, and all the other times before. “Don’t even start. And don’t think I’ll think twice about throwing any of you over my knee if you start acting up. I don’t care who’s here, entiendes?” Carlos rustling through the pots and pans made Beatriz turn away from the boys, and Seamus took the opportunity to throw another tamal, smacking Wally on the forehead. Raúl caught it before it hit the floor and the three of them doubled over in silent laughter.
“Carlito! I can make breakfast.”
Over his mother’s shoulder, Carlos could see the boys shaking their heads no behind her back. Seamus put his hands around his neck and stuck out his tongue. Wally covered his mouth with both hands and shook his head violently. Even Beatriz’s own son Raúl extended his hands to make the sign of the cross with his index fingers.
“Um, no you can’t,” Carlos said.
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“ ’Amá, I know how to cook, remember? Besides, this is your special day and I want to.” Carlos could more than cook; he was a wizard in the kitchen. He joked that he developed his skills in order to defend himself. Beatriz was a terrible cook. Everyone else in the Sánchez family were excellent cooks, but somehow she’d been overlooked.
“Ay, mi’jo, it’s okay.”
“I’m cooking, jefecita! And you, you’re helping,” Carlos said to the boys.
“Yes, master,” Raúl said in a raspy voice. Everyone turned to look at him.
“You’ve got to stop watching those old horror movies,” Seamus said.
Raúl stared back at him before hunching his shoulders and letting out a breathy “Hehehe.”
“Dude,” Seamus said. Wally giggled wildly and imitated his older cousin.
“Ya! We’ve got work to do,” Carlos barked as he poured coffee into an insulated mug with “Go Blue!” printed on it in large block letters. “You, go get me some potatoes and onion,” he ordered the boys. “Y ’Amá—take this coffee to your husband and tell him there will be something to eat in about thirty minutes. You want some tea, mi reyna?”
“I’m good, mi’jo,” Beatriz said, watching her son prepare the coffee just the way his father liked it. She leaned against the counter. “So, what time is Marisol coming?”
“Later this afternoon.”
“How come she’s not coming sooner?”
“She always works mornings at the bakery.”
Beatriz smiled. She liked Marisol. She liked her a lot.
“Well, you tell her to come earlier, if she can. She’s welcome anytime.”
Carlos was getting embarrassed. “ ’Amá, the coffee is getting cold.”
“Okay, okay!”
Beatriz went around the room and kissed each of the boys on their foreheads, saving Seamus for last.
“Did you sleep okay, mi’jo?” she asked.
“Yeah. I always sleep good here.”
Before Beatriz could ask what Seamus meant by that, Carlos was standing behind his mother holding the cup of coffee, gently pushing her out of the kitchen. “Take this and go already. I got this.”
“Okay, okay, pero, oye: After you help Carlos, I need you boys to go pick up the yard. I started a pile of those loquats on the table out there. Bring them inside, por fa’,” Beatriz said. “And if you keep throwing food at each other like you were doing before, that’s how I’m going to feed you later,” she said over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.
Larry was in the shower when Beatriz entered their bedroom. She shut the door behind her and walked over to the window that looked into the backyard. Seamus and Wally were already out, collecting the loquats by throwing them at each other and catching them in plastic grocery sacks. She giggled when she saw how much fun Wally was having but was concerned when she saw that Seamus was throwing the fruit too hard at his younger, smaller brother. She was about to open the window to issue a stern warning when Seamus hit Wally in the cheek with an especially large piece of fruit. She knew it must have stung good, and sure enough, the little boy began to cry. But before she could open the window and scold him, she was heartened to see Seamus take his brother in his arms and comfort him, setting the boy on his knee and tending to him in a gentle way that he ordinarily kept hidden. Beatriz sighed with relief. She’d noticed that Seamus had been more surly than usual lately. Larry blamed it on puberty.
“He’ll grow out of it,” he said. She thought there was more to it than that, but she went along with her husband, for now.
No blood, nothing broken. Wally was better in a wink. The boys began their work again, this time ignoring each other, picking up the fruit and putting it in their own sacks. Beatriz tapped on the window, and when Wally looked up and saw her, he smiled, holding up his sack with pride. Beatriz pointed to her eyes with her fingers formed into a V and pointed them at Wally, who returned the gesture and went back to work.
Larry was humming to himself, drying his hair with a towel as he walked into the bedroom and saw Beatriz at the window.
“Why, hello, señorita,” he said in an exaggerated Texas drawl. He posed in the door frame of the bathroom, then ambled toward his wife with his thumbs stuck in the top of the towel wrapped around his hips. “May I say, you shore are the purdiest woman to walk into this room.” He bent down and kissed his wife on the cheek.
“Here. From Carlos,” Beatriz said, handing the coffee to her husband. Larry took a quick sip.
“Oh, man! I’m sure going to miss this when Carlos goes away to college.” He carefully placed the cup on a tab
le near them and took Beatriz in his arms.
“Happy anniversary, mi corazón.” He pulled Beatriz up toward him and gave her a long, lingering kiss, fueled with all the pent-up passion he wasn’t able to muster the night before. “And thank you for being the prettiest woman to walk into my life.”
“Oh my!” Beatriz said, suddenly feeling the quickening mound of her husband against her belly.
“I think we have some unfinished business,” he murmured into her ear.
“I think we do, too,” Beatriz giggled. “Except the boys are downstairs making us breakfast.”
“Oh, I don’t think they can make what I want for breakfast,” Larry said. He hoisted his wife up off the floor and she wrapped her legs around his thighs. He carried Beatriz over to their unmade bed and they fell onto it, laughing. He caressed her face and neck with his mouth, pulling her up so he could cover her breasts with kisses. The dream, the odd sensation in the backyard, the worry about her nephews—all of it vanished. Larry circled his tongue around Beatriz’s nipple, and she gasped just as there was a knock on the door.
“Don’t come in!” they yelled in unison. Beatriz quickly covered herself with her robe.
“What do you want?” Larry barked. When there was no answer, Beatriz climbed off her husband and tiptoed to the door.
“What is it, sweetie?” she asked through the door.
“Tía Ana is here. And there’s some guy here for Dad,” Raúl said.
“What ‘guy’?” Larry asked irritably.
“He said to tell you he brought the ice.”
Larry bolted up and searched for his clothes. Beatriz was puzzled.
“You ordered ice?” she asked.
“He said you have to sign,” Raúl said.
“Okay, mi’jo,” Beatriz said through the door. “Don’t worry, love,” she said to Larry. “I can sign for it, can’t I?” She pulled her robe closed and checked herself in the mirror.
“No, no, no,” Larry said, frantically pulling on a pair of jeans then a T-shirt. “I’ll take care of it.” Beatriz knew when to pick her battles with Larry, and it was clear this was not one of them. When Larry set his mind on something, it was best to go with the flow. As he was leaving, he took his wife’s face in his hands again and gave her a long, moist kiss. “Don’t forget where we left off.”
By the time Ana came upstairs, Beatriz was already showered, standing in front of the closet deciding what to wear—the eggplant-colored dress that was comfortable, or the white, form-fitting dress that she knew would drive Larry wild.
“Hola!” Ana said, as she tapped on the door and poked her head inside the room. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. How are you?” Beatriz asked, greeting Ana with a kiss on the cheek.
“How am I? How are you?” Ana said. “Do you need help with anything?”
Beatriz held up both dresses for Ana to see. “What do you think?”
“I like the purple one,” Ana said. Beatriz frowned.
“Okay, I like the white one. Wear whatever you’ll be most comfortable in,” Ana said. “It’s going to be a long day.”
Beatriz laid both dresses on the bed and began to shape her hair with her fingers.
“I picked up the new guayabera for Larry you wanted, and I found some more papel picado. Larry’s letting the boys watch him hang it.” Beatriz and Ana exchanged a knowing snicker over Larry’s particular way of doing things. “Oh, Carmen and I made up some party favors last night. Nothing fancy, but they’re cute. I think you’ll like them.”
“Uh-huh,” Beatriz said, looking at her face in the mirror, trying to decide how much makeup to put on.
“Bueno, pues—maybe I should let you get dressed,” Ana said, noticing that Beatriz was distracted. When Ana reached the door, she turned back. “Are you okay?”
“What? Sure!” Beatriz said. “I’m just—I don’t know.”
“Did you and Larry have a fight or something?”
“Oh no,” Beatriz smiled, imagining what their morning could have been like had they not had the party to deal with. “It’s just…” Beatriz felt that wince in her heart, that wound she carried, that never quite healed no matter how much time has passed.
“I just wish everybody could be here.”
Ana closed the door and leaned against it. “Tus padres?”
“Yeah,” Beatriz said. She hadn’t been thinking of her parents, but yes—she missed them, too.
“They would have loved this,” Ana said, feeling the absence of her own parents. “When I walked in the house, it smelled so good, I thought your mother was in there cooking. Carlos is amazing. It’s like he inherited the cocinera gene from your mom, verdad?”
“Well, I know he didn’t get it from me,” Beatriz said. She began to brush mascara on her lashes.
“Your brothers and their families are all coming, right?”
“Yeah,” Beatriz said. “It’ll be nice to have us all together again.”
But that wasn’t true. Sure, all the Sánchez brothers were coming in with their wives and their children, but there was one sibling who would not be there: Perla. Beatriz wondered if any of them would dare mention her name.
Beatriz decided on the white dress because it matched Larry’s guayabera—and because she knew it would make him crazy. When she finished dressing, she went downstairs to enjoy the breakfast Carlos had made for them—a mountain of fluffy eggs; potatoes with colorful strips of red and green bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms, all seasoned with garlic and cumin; agua frescas (made especially for the party); fresh pico de gallo; and even a fresh batch of tortillas the boys made under Carlos’s strict direction. Corn tortillas, not flour. It irked Carlos that he had yet to discover the secret to the perfect flour tortilla. How could three simple ingredients cause him so much consternation? It was a skill he was determined to master. Beatriz didn’t eat much, but she took pleasure watching the boys wolf down their food with few words, only for mild grunts and happy expressions of appreciation. She and Larry looked at each other and without words knew that this would be a good day.
TWO
The guests began to arrive around eleven o’clock. The first wave were colleagues from the university and Larry’s office who intended to make only a brief appearance—until Carlos presented a large platter of ceviche. Some of those guests were still lingering by the time the relatives began to show up around noon. Beatriz was delighted when her sisters-in-law, Connie and Sara, brought sprays of spring flowers for the tables and a lovely corsage for her, made fresh that morning in their flower shop. It made Beatriz happy to hear the voices and laughter bubbling in the house and trailing out into the yard. She had completely forgotten the weirdness from the morning, too busy greeting guests, accepting dishes of food, giving directions, distracted by all the activity. It wasn’t until her oldest brother, Erasmo, showed up that Beatriz was reminded of who was missing. Erasmo was the one who looked most like their father, and as he got older, the resemblance was stronger. She welcomed his family into her house, her eyes tightly shut as she hugged him close.
“Qué pasó?” Erasmo asked when he could feel she was holding on to him longer than normal.
“Nothing, it’s just that you look so much like ’Apá.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Norma says that, too. But we’re here, so they’re here, too.” He patted his sister’s shoulder as he edged his way past her to get a look at their youngest brother, Tony, and his wife, Elaine, pregnant for the third time in four years. Beatriz knew her brother was right. She gazed at the swelling crowd with a bittersweet smile, but as she was closing the door she saw something that made her pause: a little girl standing on the curb. She blinked against the sun to try and see her face. When the girl smiled a gummy smile, a jolt of adrenalin nearly dropped her to her knees.
“Erasmo! Erasmo!” Beatriz yelled.
But her brother was lost in the bellows of greetings and laughter that comes from too much time passing between friends and relatives.
“Erasmo!”
“Mande!” her brother finally answered.
“Come here!” Her heart was galloping now. If she was seeing what she thought she was seeing, she wanted Erasmo as a witness. He was the one they would believe.
“Erasmo!” she said.
“Sí, sí, sí. Qué pasó?” he said, coming to the door as soon as he saw his sister’s stunned expression.
“Do you see that girl?”
“Who?”
“Over there, the little girl standing by that truck over there.”
When Erasmo looked out the door he reared back.
“Little girl? What little girl? That’s my girl, Angie, and her friend,” he said. But the girl he was referring to wasn’t the girl Beatriz saw, but a young woman, a couple years older than her Carlos.
“Hola, Tía,” Angie said, kissing her aunt on the cheek. “This is my friend Lidia.” Beatriz looked past the girls where she thought she had seen the little girl, but there was no one. The two young women continued standing before her expectantly, and then Lidia glanced at Angie self-consciously.
“I hope it’s okay I came,” she said. “You know me—never one to pass up a good Mexican party.” She laughed nervously.
The girl’s embarrassment brought Beatriz back to the present.
“Descúlpeme! Of course! Of course, you’re welcome! Please forgive me. I have a million things on my mind. Any friend of Angie’s is a friend of mine. Pásale, mi’ja, pásale.” The girls slipped past Beatriz into the house and sought out the other young adults in the crowd. Beatriz frantically scanned the street again.
Sisters, Strangers, and Starting Over Page 2
