“Please, don’t make me follow you in there,” Larry said.
Celeste froze, hugging her backpack to her chest. When she finally decided to face Larry, he motioned to a nearby row of seats. She stood still for a long time before finally deciding to cross over and sit down, her arms strapped around her backback, her knees clenched together, and her head sunk between her hunched shoulders. Larry paced in front of her before finally taking a seat next to her. He had no idea what to say; all he knew was that he had to say the right thing.
“So, that lady called you, huh?” Celeste said.
“Yeah.”
“And she’s not going to come get me?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“Are you going to make me go back with you?”
“I don’t want to make you do anything,” Larry said. He looked at the vending machine that stood near them. “You want to share something?”
Celeste shrugged. This was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Larry. Part of her was curious, but a larger part was skeptical that there was anything he could say that could convince her to go back with him.
“I like the ones with peanuts,” he said, fumbling in his pocket for some coins. “Can you eat peanuts? Your throat’s not going to close up if you eat them, right?”
“No,” she said.
Larry put the coins in the machine and shoved his hand into the bin where the packet of candy dropped, pulled it out, and tore it open.
“You’re mother liked these, too,” he sighed.
“You knew her?” Celeste asked. It had never occurred to her that Larry had known Perla. He offered her some candies and she slowly extended her open hand so he could pour some into her palm.
“Not as well as I should have,” Larry said. “The last time I saw her was in a bus station like this. She was afraid and angry, kind of like you are now. We sat and ate candies while we waited for her bus. I thought, if I just made sure she got on the right bus, everything would be fine. I thought she thought the way your aunt Beatriz and I did: that going back home made sense. But now… now, I wish I would have said the right thing, instead of watching her get on the bus and disappear.”
“What would have been the right thing?” Celeste asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe if I would have invited her to stay, things would have been different,” Larry said, popping one of the candies in his mouth and chewing it. He remembered how he and Beatriz were struggling back then, but their life was good. They were good. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference if they had invited Perla to stay. He had no idea. All he knew was that Perla had made her choice without hearing that she was wanted. She believed she had no other place to go, no other choices. How many times had poor choices been made with a lack of information or faulty assumptions? How many times had a few consoling words been all that was needed to change a poor decision into a good one?
Larry began to wonder where his sister, Lucy, was. In her note to the boys, she promised to let them know where she landed, when she finally got to where she was going. Larry hoped she’d keep that promise. “Someday,” he remembered reading in the note, “you will understand.”
Larry turned to Celeste. “I don’t understand how you feel or what you’re thinking right now. But I would really like it if you came back with me so I could learn. Your aunt Beatriz would like you to come back, and I know your cousin Raúl would like it if you came back.”
“I don’t want to be the reason you and Tía Beatriz don’t get along,” Celeste said. “I don’t want to be the reason she fights with everybody. I don’t want to be the reason you all feel embarrassed.”
“No one’s embarrassed…” Larry suddenly thought of his mother, and her ritual “walk of shame” from the past. “No, no!” he said. The thought of Celeste feeling ashamed the way he did as a boy made his heart ache. He looked at her with new eyes and thought a moment. Celeste wondered why her uncle was looking at her so strangely, an expression that astonished her with its softness.
“Well, everyone has very strong feelings when it comes to you,” Larry said. “I can’t promise everyone will always get along, and I can’t promise that we won’t mess up. What I can promise is that I will do my best to make you feel welcome. Mi casa es su casa. Okay? And you already know your aunt Beatriz feels that way, right?”
Celeste held one of the candies in her mouth and cracked the hard shell with her teeth and began sucking the chocolate inside as she thought about Larry’s words.
“But,” he began, “and this is the important thing: If you want to be part of this family, and things go wrong, you can’t…” Larry began to think of how angry he was at his sister for running out on her boys. He began to think about how Perla ran away all those years earlier and the repercussions of that decision. And then, worst of all, he began to think of how he left the house in a huff after he and Beatriz had their first hard discussion about Celeste, and how he had hurt the woman he loved most of all. He sighed a heavy sigh. “It’s important,” he said slowly, thick with recognition, “to stay and figure things out. You owe it to the people you care about, no matter how hard it is.”
“Seamus hates me,” Celeste said.
“Seamus hates everyone right now,” Larry said. A young mother with three small children walked past them. One child was throwing a tantrum while the other two stared at their sibling, shell-shocked and bewildered, hauling bags twice their size as their harried mother tried to control her unhappy child. The two of them continued to eat the candies until they got to the bottom of the pouch. “Seamus and your cousin Wally are going to be going through a rough time right now. That’s something I think you can understand,” Larry said. “Seamus knows. Wally doesn’t. Not yet.” He waited for Celeste to ask what the trouble was and was relieved when she didn’t. It was enough for her to be taken seriously. “Seamus and Wally are going to be staying with us for a while, and it might be uncomfortable at first, but I think Seamus might learn something from you.”
“Like what?”
“Well, Seamus acts tough, but he’s not. You’re the one who can teach him about what it means to be strong.”
Celeste looked at her uncle, wondering if he was trying to play her.
“I’m just a kid. I don’t know anything.”
“You’re a kid, but you’re not a baby anymore. And I think you know more than you think,” Larry said. “Your aunt and I could use your help when it comes to your cousin, but we want to help you, too. Okay?”
Celeste ate the last of her candies and looked at her uncle, trying to decide what she wanted to do.
“So, can I give you a ride home now, or should I buy another pack of candy?”
“Candy,” Celeste said.
Larry dug into his pockets for some more change and bought another bag. The two of them sat in silence, watching the passengers walk past them, passing the packet back and forth, until it was empty.
When Larry and Celeste walked in the door, Beatriz was relieved. Celeste walked over to her aunt.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Am I in trouble?”
“Well,” Beatriz said. “Not yet.” She opened her arms to the girl, and Celeste fell into them. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”
Celeste nodded her head.
“Go ahead and put your things away. Everyone is in the kitchen. Carlos is cooking.”
When Celeste went down the hall to the office, Beatriz turned to her husband.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Beatriz leaned her head into her husband’s chest, and he embraced her lightly. It had been so long since they had touched one another, it was as if they were touching each other for the first time. The old, familiar closeness began to overwhelm them with nostalgia, like hearing an old song that brought back bittersweet memories.
“So… we’re good?” Larry asked.
“We will be,” Beatriz said. “We can talk more later, if you want.”
“I want,” Larry said. “I do.”
When Beatriz, Larry, and Celeste entered the kitchen, Ana and the boys were seated around the counter so they could watch Carlos work. The boys were particularly fascinated as Carlos unrolled his collection of chef’s knives and sharpened them, and began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator.
“I didn’t know that was in there,” Beatriz said, as her son pulled out an enormous slab of salmon, a bag of mussels, and herbs and vegetables from the nooks and crannies of the refrigerator and throughout the kitchen.
“Are those the things that look like giant boogers?” Wally asked, pointing to the mussels. “I’m not eating that!”
“You’ll like it the way I make them,” Carlos said. “I cook them in wine!” he whispered to the little boy, whose face lit up as if he were going to be allowed to do something dangerous. Carlos began chopping garlic and mincing herbs, and soon the kitchen was infused with the anticipation of something exciting about to happen. Celeste managed to creep around the counter to peek over Carlos’s arm, careful to stay out of his way but watching his every move.
“Mira, how this one is! He’s going to make someone very happy one day,” Ana joked.
“He makes someone very happy now!” Beatriz said. She felt a sudden pang, realizing that her son was now a young man, ready to leave her and go out into the world.
“Oooh! Carlos has a girlfriend,” Wally teased.
“That’s old news,” Raúl laughed.
“What? No one tells me anything!”
Seamus looked at his brother sadly, and then to the floor. His uncle Larry put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper into the boy’s ear, “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
Ana pulled herself away from the counter to speak to Beatriz. “I’m going to take off,” she said.
“Oh! But it looks like there’s going to be plenty. Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“Do you need me to stay?” Ana asked, looking over to Celeste and Carlos in the kitchen with the boys and Larry all around, eagerly watching.
“I guess not. I think everything’s going to be all right.”
“We’ll go look at flowers later this week. There’s still time,” Ana said. “Oh! I forgot to tell you, I got the music set up. So cross that off your list.” She turned to call over to the group, “Oye, Carlos—rain check, okay, mi’jo?”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, Tía, but okay, adiós!”
After Beatriz said her good-byes to Ana, she came back into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“No!” the boys said in unison.
“Oh, stop it! I made a perfectly good salad the other day!”
“I’ll thank you to stay out of my kitchen,” Carlos said, flipping his chef’s knife into the air so it spun like a mad pinwheel and catching it by the handle. Everyone gasped.
“Do it again!” Wally squealed.
Beatriz looked at Larry, who was staring at their son in disbelief.
“I’ve got this, ’Amá,” Carlos crowed. He continued cooking, keeping the kid’s attention, explaining what he was doing, throwing in a little showmanship at every opportunity, while making small bites to eat as he prepared the main meal. Even Larry could see that Carlos loved what he was doing. He was in his element, at ease and in control.
“The only thing I don’t have are tortillas,” he said.
“I can run out,” Larry offered.
“No, no! I’ll come up with something else.”
“I can make some,” Celeste offered.
“Really?” Carlos said.
“Yeah, but only if you don’t shish-kebab me if you don’t like how they come out,” she said, looking at the knife Carlos held in his hand.
“N’ombre!” Carlos laughed. “Besides, they can’t be any worse than mine. Show me what you got, chula.”
Carlos pulled out the ingredients for the girl and watched her work from the corner of his eye as he continued preparing the meal. Four simple ingredients—flour, water, shortening, and a little salt—that was all, but somehow, his never came out right. So he was beyond impressed when Celeste’s tortillas came out powdery soft with just the right amount of chew.
“These are perfect!” Carlos said. “How come I can’t make them like this?”
“Who taught you, mi’ja?” Beatriz asked.
“Mi ’amá,” she said. “She said she learned from her ’amá. I guess that would be your mother, too.”
Everyone happily slathered butter on the warm tortillas, eating them and moaning with delight. Celeste smiled, feeling the first glimmer that maybe she did have something to offer. Maybe she did belong to this family and brought something of value—something that came as naturally to her as breathing, something that was passed down to her from a memory, an experience that was meant to be shared.
“Ya! Save room for later!” Carlos said. “But you’ve got to show me how you make them later, mi prima. I mean it! I’ve got to learn before I leave for school…” His voice trailed off, self-conscious of the unfinished business about when and where he was going to school and his father’s attitude about it.
“How about we talk about that after we eat?” Larry offered. Carlos felt unsure of what was in store for him—a huge lecture or something worse—and his face revealed it.
“Calm down, son,” Larry offered. “We’ll work it out.”
And they did, after their huge lunch. Larry, Beatriz, and Carlos went into the office to talk while the kids went in the backyard to eat ice cream. Celeste stayed close to Raúl, wondering when the dark cloud around Seamus would burst, while being amused by Wally, who entertained them all by showing off the karate moves he’d learned in class earlier in the day and the ones he was going to learn. When he finally ran out of gas, he plopped onto the grass panting.
“Can we watch a movie or something?”
“Go ask Mom, and then maybe we can watch The Wolf Man,” Raúl said.
“ ‘Even a wolf who says his prayers may turn the wolf into the moon at night’—that one?” Wally asked, mangling the quote from his cousin’s favorite movie.
“I have so much to teach you,” Raúl said, shaking his head.
“Yay!” Wally ran into the house with Raúl following, leaving Celeste alone with Seamus.
“He’s seen that movie a hundred times,” Seamus said. He wasn’t looking at Celeste, and she wasn’t sure he was talking to her. She stood up to leave but changed her mind, remembering what her uncle told her at the bus station.
“What’s wrong with you?” Celeste asked. She struck a nerve, but Seamus ignored her and kept eating his ice cream, loudly scraping the sides of his dish with his spoon.
“Never mind. You don’t have to say,” she said.
“What makes you think something’s wrong with me?” His tough-boy mask slipped, and the tender layers of his wounded self were peeking out.
“I don’t know. It’s the way you look,” she said plainly. “I’ve seen it before.”
Seamus finished his ice cream and stood up to leave.
“My mom used to tell me that it’s okay to be scared. I think it’s okay for boys, too.”
Seamus wanted to kick something, punch a hole in a wall, or kick a ball high into the sky until it made angry rings around the moon.
“Your mom? The dead one?”
“Yeah, the dead one,” Celeste said without flinching.
Seamus was amazed. Annoyed and amazed. He had no idea that his stony silence did not hide the way his shoulders sloped, the way his face hung, the way his jaw rippled as he ground his teeth. Everything about him made his pain obvious to someone like Celeste, who had experienced so much of it herself. And if he didn’t know it for sure when they were playing Toss, he knew it now. Celeste was tough, no matter how much he wanted to believe she was just a stupid girl. In spite of himself, Seamus felt a reluctant kinship toward her, though he would do his best not to show it. Not all at once, anyway.
“When are you
going to tell him—whatever it is you don’t want to tell him?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I guess when he needs to know,” Seamus conceded. He leaned against the house and looked at Celeste from the corner of his eye.
“So, your mom—what’s that like? I mean, do you get used to her being gone?”
“I don’t know. But I doubt it.”
“Mine left,” Seamus finally said.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“When is she coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well,” Celeste said. “At least she can still come back, if she wants to.”
“That’s the part that sucks,” Seamus said. “I don’t know if she wants to.”
* * *
When Beatriz and Larry came into the backyard, Celeste and Seamus stood up and gave them their attention.
“Well, guess what? Carlos is going to take all you kids out to a movie,” Beatriz announced. “They’re looking at the listings now. But before you go cast your vote, we have a couple of things to say. You’re going to take your things and put them in Carlos’s room,” Beatriz said to Seamus, and then to Celeste, “and you’re moving into the bedroom upstairs. Carlos is going to stay in the office until he leaves for culinary school.”
“Really?” Seamus asked.
“Really,” Beatriz said. “Don’t worry. It was his idea.”
“What about Wally?” Not that he wanted to keep sharing a room with his little brother, but he wanted to know where he’d be.
“He’s going to stay in Raúl’s room. He said something about you snoring,” Beatriz teased. “And besides, now that you two are the oldest kids in the house, we thought you might like your privacy. Okay?”
Seamus and Celeste looked at each other and silently agreed to this arrangement. As they began to go inside the house, Beatriz held Celeste back.
“I’ll still stay with you at night, if you want,” Beatriz said. “But I think you’re ready to move upstairs. Do you?”
Celeste thought a moment and nodded. “I’ll try,” she said. “I think I can do it. You’ll be nearby?”
Sisters, Strangers, and Starting Over Page 23
