“Well, it’s nice to see you, too!” she teased, tickling Wally in the ribs with two of her press-on nails.
“You smell like sausage,” Seamus said.
“Thanks for noticing. I’ve been working all morning. What have you been up to?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you get enough to eat?”
“Are you kidding?” Larry snorted. The boys looked like overstuffed empanadas. “Are you done?”
“Yeah, well, I need to ask you about that. I got asked to take another shift,” Lucy said. Larry sighed deeply. “I could use the money. Would you mind keeping the boys till three-thirty?”
“Lucy…”
“I know, I know!” she said, taking a quick sip of her brother’s coffee. “It’s just, if I take this shift, I don’t have to work tomorrow night, and I can, well, I have plans,” she said.
“With who?” Seamus asked.
“None of your business,” Lucy snapped. Seamus and his brother looked at each other and then down at the table. The muscle in Seamus’s jaw began to ripple under his skin.
“What?” She bit the end off a paper-covered straw and playfully blew the remaining wrapper at her boys. The tube hit Seamus in the chest and he batted it away. “Jesus! Just because I’m your mother doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to have some fun once in a while.” No one spoke for a long time, and Lucy didn’t like the cool silence. “Besides, you like staying with your uncle Larry and aunt Beatriz. You tell me that all the time! If I didn’t know better, I would think you liked being with them more than me.” Lucy was smiling, but her cheery voice was as fake as her nails. “And you boys like hanging out, doing all your guy things, right?” She was looking at Raúl, who looked back at his aunt and smiled politely.
“Not anymore. We can’t,” Seamus said. He pushed his brother out of the way so he could get out of the booth, nearly knocking him onto the floor.
“Ow! You dork!”
“Seamus!” Larry barked. “Where are you going?” If Lucy had asked the question, he would have ignored her. If Larry weren’t there, he would have pushed Wally all the way to the floor and stepped on him on his way out of the booth. But Larry was there. Seamus worked harder to stuff down the anger that was working its way through him.
“I have to pee.”
“Me, too,” Raúl said.
“I wanna go!” Wally said. The boys tumbled out of the booth and waddled to the restroom.
“Go with them,” Larry ordered Carlos. “Make sure they don’t destroy the place. I need to talk to your aunt.”
The waitress delivered a plate of fries and set it before Lucy, who quickly covered them in ketchup. She used the nails of her thumb and forefinger as pincers to eat them, her remaining fingers splayed like a fan.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“You tell me what’s up.” Larry said.
“With what?”
“Well, first of all, what happened to you last night?”
“I had a date. I told you.”
“No, you told me you had to study.”
“I did! I don’t have to study twenty-four hours a day, do I? I came and made my appearance. And the boys were having fun.”
“Okay, okay—so has this new guy met the boys yet?”
“No.”
“Is he going to?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, wiping her fingers on her apron. “You were the one that said it wasn’t such a good idea to introduce the boys to every new guy right away. Just the ones that seem serious.”
“Yeah,” Larry began slowly. “Except none of them are serious.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Lucy mocked. “This one might be.”
Larry snorted.
“Smart-ass.”
“What’s up with Seamus?” Larry asked to change the subject.
“Shay? He’s fine,” Lucy said.
“So why is he acting out? Are things okay at home?”
“Things are crazy, like they always are,” she said. “It’s not easy being a working mother, trying to go to school. And boys are hard. That’s why I have you. You said you would help me, remember?”
“I remember,” Larry said. He more than remembered. Lucy was older than Larry, but Larry was always the one who took care of things. The problem with Lucy was that the things she wanted and the things she needed never seemed to rhyme. And like a child who didn’t get what she wanted for Christmas, she was unhappy. Lucy always wanted a do-over. She was the one most likely to give up, drop out, get discouraged, and feel that the world was against her. Larry didn’t understand how she managed to work herself into all the tangents she found herself in, but he was the one who helped her back out of them, especially when she got pregnant with her boys, each by a different man. Lucy’s choice in men was as bad as her common sense. Seamus’s father was around for a while, showing up on birthdays and holidays, until he finally, silently, and without fanfare, just stopped appearing. Wally’s father was some guy she fell into bed with one night after a party. She never bothered to tell him she was pregnant, and when Larry or anyone else in the family suggested it, she flew into a rage, telling them it was none of their business. One by one, the family fell away. No one could put up with Lucy’s inability to keep both feet on the ground for an extended period of time. Larry was the first one—the only one in the family—who would take her back and help her out. She was always grateful, always full of thanks, but somehow, when she arrived at a new fork in the road, she never remembered the wrong turns of her past and seemed to make the same mistakes from the time before, and the time before that.
Larry was patient with Lucy, but now that she was pushing middle age, even his patience was wearing thin. He knew he had to be there for her boys, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out for his sister.
“Look, Beatriz’s niece came in last night, and I don’t know how long she’s going to stay. So you need to keep your boys.”
“What niece?”
“Her sister’s kid.”
“Beatriz has a sister?” Lucy said, licking her fingers.
“She did. She died—”
“What? Jesus…”
“—and we’re going to keep her niece for a while, until we can find out why she’s here and who she left behind. That’s as much as I know,” Larry said, finishing off the last of his coffee.
“So, what’s the problem?” Lucy asked after a moment. “Why can’t my boys stay over?”
“Lucy, we don’t have the room, and it’s a touchy situation. And Beatriz—she’s stressed out. We need the space.”
Lucy knew that nothing stressed out her sister-in-law. If anyone was stressed, it was her brother. He never did well with a change in plans, and spontaneity made him queasy. Lucy never understood why Beatriz put up with him all these years, but she assumed it was more of that unearned luck that always seemed to be in short supply when it came to Lucy’s life.
“Well,” Lucy said, wiping her fingers with a stray napkin on the table, “I wouldn’t want my boys to be in your way. Why don’t you just throw them out back with a bowl of water?”
“Lucy!”
“They’re just my kids,” she said sarcastically.
“That’s right. They’re your kids.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucy asked. When Larry didn’t answer, she pushed the plate of half-eaten fries away from her. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Oh, please…”
“Everything is easy for you. The world twirls just so for you, huh? Well, guess what? Some of us live in the real world with real problems.”
Larry refused to let his sister get to him. Not again. Not this time. When the boys came back to the table they didn’t notice the icy silence between the adults.
“Fries!” Wally dug into the plate with Seamus leaning over his shoulder to pick at what his brother left behind. Larry stood up and motioned to Raúl and Carlos to remain standing.
“Come on, we’re leaving,” he s
aid to his sons.
“Can we get a to-go box?” Wally asked.
“No, you’re staying here with me,” Lucy snapped.
“I thought you were working longer,” Seamus said uneasily.
“I am,” Lucy pouted. “Don’t worry, the regular manager isn’t here today. You can sit at the break table in the back. You have homework or something to do, don’t you?”
Seamus and Wally whined and flopped into the booth.
“Get up!” Lucy demanded. “C’mon! They’re waiting to turn over the table.”
“What the fuck, Mom!”
As soon as the words fell from Seamus’s mouth, Larry had him by the arm and pulled him into the air and onto his feet.
“Get up!” Larry demanded. Seamus swallowed his tongue. Wally didn’t need anyone to tell him to straighten up. “If I hear you talk to your mother like that again, I’m going to knock you into next week!”
“See? See how they are?” Lucy said. Larry couldn’t stand it.
The waitress whose shift Lucy agreed to take came up behind them.
“Hey, Luce—can you stay for me, or what?” Lucy looked at her brother, who had released his nephew and was staring at him hard.
“I’m not through with you,” he said to Seamus. Then he turned to all of the boys: “Go get in the car before I change my mind!” The boys charged past Larry with Raúl and Carlos following them.
“When do you get off?”
“Three, three-thirty.”
“Be sure to come and get them at three-forty-five, on the dot,” he said to his sister between his teeth.
“I will! I will!”
“I mean it, Lucy!”
“Damn, you act like I’m a crack mom or something!” Lucy laughed and looked at the waitress, standing there unsure of what she had walked into.
“Chill out!” Lucy said to them both.
Larry and the waitress left the restaurant at the same time.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t wreck your plans by asking her to take my shift,” the woman said meekly. “I just really, really needed the time off.”
“I know the feeling,” Larry said before he climbed into his SUV, where the boys were obediently buckled in, their hands in their laps, waiting patiently for what was next.
SIX
Celeste couldn’t remember the last time she ate so much and was thankful for every piece of food she put in her mouth. Beatriz was on the phone most of the time, talking to her brothers, telling them they needed to come back to the house because they wouldn’t believe who was there, while Ana sat with Celeste, wishing Beatriz would let her make the phone calls so she could spend time with her niece.
“Quieres más, mi’ja?”
“No, gracias. No more. Everything was good, señora.” Celeste looked around the large kitchen, taking in how full it was—no shelf was empty, no cupboard was bare. Every seat had a cushion, the windows had nice curtains, and the floor was smooth and flat, without cracks or soft spaces that bowed underfoot. The house was well worn and lived in, but everything looked brand new to Celeste.
“So let me guess,” Ana said. “I’m going to say you are twelve. Is that right?”
“No! Fourteen. Almost quince. Fifteen.”
“Verdad?” Ana was shocked. The girl was so small! Ana wondered if she had been malnourished in her early life.
“Ay, perdón!” Ana teased.
Celeste neatly folded the thick paper napkin Ana had given her and daintily placed it next to her plate. “Are they rich?”
“Quién?”
“La señora,” Celeste said, looking toward Beatriz, who had wandered off as she babbled on her cell phone. Ana wanted to laugh but realized that to Celeste—whose entire life was apparently stuffed into the small bag she was clutching when she had arrived—Beatriz’s life must look large to her.
“They aren’t rich like you see on TV, but they have a good life. Son buena gente. Very good people. You’ll see,” Ana said.
“Okay! We’re all set!” Beatriz said, breezing back into the kitchen from the dining area, where she’d wandered off to finish her calls. “Everyone is coming back late this afternoon! Even Tony! They were on their way to see Elaine’s parents in San Angelo, but they decided to come back for our little welcome party. Isn’t that nice?” Beatriz didn’t wait for Celeste to answer. “You’ll get to meet all your uncles, my brothers, and their wives, your aunts,” she explained. “They were all gone by the time you got here. Oh!” Beatriz suddenly remembered something else. “I need to make one more call, and then we can go.”
Celeste looked at Ana nervously. “Go where?” she whispered.
“Go where, mujer?” Ana shouted after Beatriz, but it was too late. She was already immersed in another phone call. Celeste’s head sank into her shoulders, and Ana could see something was wrong. She ducked down to catch the girl’s eyes.
“Qué paso, mi’ja? What’s wrong?”
“She talks a lot.”
Ana laughed. “Yes, she does. She’s kind of a wheeler-dealer, entiendes? At her job, she works with many important people to make things happen, and then here at home, she’s like the traffic cop with all the boys. She knows how to get things done. But don’t worry, once she settles down, you’ll see—she’s one of the best people you could know. She’s excited to have you here.”
“She is?”
Ana was startled by Celeste’s remark. “Well, of course she is!” She started to laugh at Celeste’s surprise, but one look at the girl’s troubled face and she knew something was wrong, wrong, wrong.
“Thank you for bringing me las cosas,” Celeste said quietly.
“The clothes?”
“No, las otras cosas. En la bolsa. Can you tell? Can people tell?” The idea made Celeste cringe.
“Ay, no mi’ja,” Ana said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Well, I thought maybe. You do something mi hija does when she has her period. She hunches forward, así. Pero, no, I didn’t know. But I was right?”
Celeste’s head sank down as she nodded.
“The first time was last month!” the girl whispered urgently. “I knew it would come someday, even though ’Amá…”
Talking about her mother made Celeste cry, and she was tired of crying. What she would have said if the words could have come without tears was that her mother used to tease that she wished Celeste could stay a little girl forever. Celeste remembered how her mother would take Celeste in her arms and hold her tight, saying, “I’m going to keep you small forever!” She liked the idea when she was a little girl, but as she got older, she began to worry that her mother had wished it so hard, she somehow made it come true. So when Celeste finally began menstruating, it caught her off guard, and on top of her mother getting killed, and all the strange, new changes coming her way, Celeste had no sense of what was normal and ordinary. Bleeding, she thought, was the way it was going to be, every day, for the rest of her life.
Ana patted her hand. “Did you figure out what to do?” she asked gently. “With the cosas in the bag?”
“Yes,” Celeste said. “I followed the pictures on the paper in the box, and ’Amá told me about it.”
“Well, if you have any questions, be sure to ask your tía Beatriz.”
“Oh,” Celeste said, twisting her mouth.
“What, mi’ja?”
“Can’t I—I wish I could go with you to your house.”
What had happened in the short time Celeste and Beatriz were alone together? Ana thought. She knew she had to find out, and fast.
Beatriz made Celeste and Ana jump when she burst back into the kitchen.
“Okay! I’m done! No more calls! So you know what we need to do? We need to go shopping! What do you say? Ana, can you come?”
“For food?” Ana asked, as she stood up and offered her chair to Beatriz. “Why don’t I take care of that and you two stay here and visit.” A look of unease shot across Beatriz’s and Celeste’s faces.
“Sit down,” A
na said to Beatriz gently.
“No, no, no—if we leave now, we can get to the mall right when it opens,” Beatriz said.
“The mall isn’t going anywhere,” Ana said, knowing full well that Beatriz not only hated shopping but she hated malls. Ana sat down across from Celeste, leaving the chair closest to her for Beatriz.
“I was just going to tell Celeste that I wish she and her mother could have come to visit. I would have loved it if she were around to play with my kids. And she has cousins, lots of them, verdad?” Ana was nodding at Beatriz, wondering what was taking her so long to pick up the cue to sit down, calm down, and have a conversation that didn’t include having a cell phone pressed against her face. Beatriz looked at her watch and began to search for her keys when Celeste began to speak.
“I asked her. I asked her all the time, when I was little, who we belonged to,” Celeste said. Beatriz froze. Celeste was opening up the way she wanted, the way she was hoping for. “She wouldn’t say,” Celeste continued. “But she began to talk about her more and more before—before she died.” Celeste was talking to Ana as if Beatriz wasn’t in the room. She spoke quietly, and deliberately, but without emotion. Not like she was trying to hide her feelings, but as if she were exhausted from whatever she’d experienced before arriving, as if the life she’d lived in her fourteen years were filled with more experiences than anyone could imagine.
Beatriz was so startled at what she’d just heard that she finally sat down. Ana’s eyes darted back and forth between Beatriz and Celeste, trying to will Beatriz to ask a question. Any question. But Beatriz sat there dumbly. Ana was perplexed. She had never seen Beatriz so tongue-tied and ill at ease. This was a woman who had negotiated with state senators and congressmen and a house full of boys, but when it came to this one, small girl, she acted as if speaking were a brand-new experience to her.
“I think I’d like to hear a little about when you two were girls,” Ana finally offered.
“What?” Beatriz said.
“Tell us a story about Perla, when she was Celeste’s age.”
Ana could see that this brightened Celeste’s mood, but Beatriz was suddenly filled with terror.
Sisters, Strangers, and Starting Over Page 7
