“What?” Carmen said to her brother.
“Be good.”
Carmen rolled her eyes. Bianca had ideas about party favors and invitations. She spilled fabric swatches and piles of shiny magazine pages with her notitas before them. She began thinking out loud about the one thing that bothered her: cupcakes or a cake? Which was best? And the flavors! So many choices! Diego barely shut the door behind him when, like a werewolf, Carmen turned into her cabrona-self.
“Why can’t we eat here?” she said, interrupting her cousin.
“You mean have the reception here?” Bianca asked.
“That would be nice,” Ana said. “But I don’t think the yard is big enough. If it’s small …” Ana lost her thought when she looked out the bay window into the pond and saw a goldfish floating in the water.
“No, I mean why can’t we eat dinner here tonight?” Carmen said.
“We haven’t even talked about a theme!” Bianca said, trying to steer the talk back to the quinceañera. “If we talk about a theme first, that will help with everything else!”
“This is his house as much as it is ours,” Carmen said.
“Eating out was your dad’s idea, not mine,” Ana said.
“So, we can eat here?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Ana said. She thought about what Beatriz said about telling Carmen the truth. She bit her tongue and closed her notebook.
“So, what do you think you’d like to make?” Ana asked. Carmen looked at Ana calmly. She had it all figured out.
“We could grill. He likes to grill. Or we could order pizza. It’s not that big a deal. Bianca, you wanna stay and eat with us?”
But Bianca noticed the time and began picking up her things.
“I have something else to do.”
“Where are you going? I thought you wanted to talk about a theme.”
“I do, but you want to talk about dinner, and I have other things to do.”
“But I want you to talk to my dad about the quinceañera. You can explain to him what he’s supposed to do. Tell him how handsome he’s going to look in a tuxedo, you know. Get him excited.”
Carmen was annoyed. Annoyed with her brother, annoyed with her mother, annoyed with the world, but most of all she was annoyed with Bianca. How could she have something else to do?
“You know what? Most of the people I want on the court are at Rafa and Sonia’s. You want to go over there now?”
“I guess,” Bianca said, looking at her watch. “But you’re not even dressed!”
“It won’t take me that long.” Carmen ran to her room to change. Bianca stayed in the kitchen with her aunt.
“Is that okay with you, Tía?”
“Sure, Bianca. It’s okay. But if you have somewhere to be, I can take her.”
“No, I’ll do it. I’m just going home. I said I wanted to help, so let me help. You probably want a break from her, don’t you?”
“You can tell?”
“I want a break from her!” Bianca blurted. “I’ll take her. It’s on the way.”
When Bianca went to see what was taking Carmen so long, Ana rushed out to scoop the dead fish from the pond. Would it be easier—Ana thought, as she pulled the goldfish toward her with a rake—would it be easier to tell Carmen, to tell both of the children, the truth about their father? After the dinner she and Esteban had earlier in the week, she was beginning to wonder. But Ana knew her daughter. Carmen could talk tough, she could be mean and nasty, but when it came down to it, Ana knew Carmen would shrivel up if she knew the truth. Ana wrapped the dead fish in a piece of newspaper and walked it to the trash can near the garage. She buried it deep in the can so there would be no chance of Carmen finding it. The fish left some slime on Ana’s hand. The smell made her gag. She quickly went back inside to wash her hands when Carmen came back into the kitchen.
“I’m going to ask him,” she said to Ana’s back.
“Ask who what?”
“’Apá. I’m going to ask him to have dinner here with us tonight.”
Ana could still smell the stink on her hands and scrubbed her hands with the rough side of the sponge.
“Just so you know,” Carmen added.
“Okay.”
“I mean it!”
“I heard you, Carmen! You’re going to ask your dad to eat dinner here. I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“Well, it wouldn’t matter if you did,” Carmen spat. “This is his house, too.” La muchacha turned on her heel, very satisfied with herself. She was leaving the kitchen as Bianca came in from the other direction.
“C’mon, Carmen! I don’t have all day!”
Through the living room window, Ana watched the girls drive off. The house was silent, and she sighed, a heavy sigh that should have blown out the windows. She knew Carmen wasn’t a little girl anymore, but like a bird protecting its nest, Ana was going to protect her precious chick as long as she could—no matter how hard she was poking Ana with that sharp little beak of hers.
Diego was not happy when he walked up to the Castañeda garage and saw El Rey unpacking his gear with the rest of the boys. He was dressed all in black, like last time, but this time his sandy-brown hair was spiked and dyed black on the left side, bleached white on the other. Diego couldn’t decide if the look was by accident or on purpose.
“Hey, man,” El Rey said to Diego with an upturn of his chin.
“Hey,” Diego said back. Rafa came out with some chairs and Diego pulled him aside.
“What the hell, man?”
“Qué tienes?” Rafa said, before he understood what Diego was talking about. “We voted, and you were outnumbered, man.”
“Yeah, but …”
Sonia poked her head out the door and called to Diego: “Oye, Diego, did you practice what I showed you?”
Before he could answer, El Rey was already slithering over to Sonia, who pulled the screen door closed between her and the boy.
“Dude, I thought we went with that other guy,” Diego hissed.
“Naw, man. He was the backup, remember? We didn’t think this vato was going to say yes, but he did, so there you go.”
Sonia laughed at something El Rey said. Anyone else would have known right away that Sonia was not even a little bit interested in El Rey, but pobre Diego, he watched the boy helplessly.
“Dude, you should make your move already,” Rafa said under his breath.
“What?”
“Don’t play like that. I know you like my sister.”
Diego scoffed and Rafa looked at him like he was pitiful.
“Yeah, she’s okay,” Diego said.
“Oye, I don’t think she likes him, and even if she did, my dad would make her change her mind real fast. And to be honest, I would rather have her hook up with a homeboy than with some tie-dyed Austin boy, ’tiendes?”
“I’m not livestock,” Sonia said flatly. She had managed to get past El Rey and was behind her brother and Diego. Diego wished he could evaporate.
“We weren’t talking about you, loca!” Rafa lied. He pushed past his sister and turned to look at Diego with a strong look. Diego began to fumble with the guitar Sonia had loaned him.
“Thanks for letting me use this.”
“De nada. So, show me how you did.”
“What?” Diego said stupidly.
“You practiced, didn’t you? I know I didn’t send you home with that for nothing,” Sonia said.
Ah, even scolding him, she had the sweetest voice, Diego thought. “I practiced, but not that much.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, you know. Stuff.” I sound so stupid! Diego thought.
“Yeah, I heard about your mom and dad,” she said in a low voice. “It’s harsh, huh?”
Diego was surprised but relieved that Sonia knew about what was happening at home. “Yeah.” He sat in a chair as he tuned the guitar, and when he looked up at Sonia’s heart-shaped face smiling at him, things didn’t seem so bad after all.
“
So, show me.”
Diego handed Sonia the guitar.
“No,” she laughed. “Show me what I taught you last time.”
Diego really didn’t practice much, but he didn’t do half bad.
“That’s pretty good, but you need to practice some more.” She took the guitar from him. “See, you’re going to add that to this, and then to this, until you get this.” By themselves, each chord she played was ordinary, but together, it was like the guitar was enchanted.
“Damn, that’s hot!” El Rey said from across the garage.
“Yeah, she’s pretty good,” Rafa said.
“I’m damn good,” Sonia said. Pos, it was the truth. She’d been playing since she was a little girl and knew plenty about playing the instrument that she would devote her life to.
“I can’t play like that. I don’t think I’ll ever play like that,” Diego said, marveling at Sonia’s skill.
“Hey, I’d like a lesson. Are you giving lessons?” El Rey said. The vato made even plain questions sound todo smarmy.
“Oye, Rey, show me how this thing works.” Rafa was asking about un wah-wah pedal Rey brought. Rey turned to Rafa, and Diego had Sonia to himself again.
“So, your cousin asked me to be a dama at your sister’s quinceañera,” Sonia said.
“Yeah.” Diego didn’t know what else to say. El Rey began to play wild and fast. Sonia turned to look at him.
“I thought you didn’t know how to play,” she said. El Rey didn’t hear the “y qué” in her voice.
“Oh, I can play,” he said, making a whiney wah-wah on his guitar using the pedal Rafa had asked about earlier.
“That’s cool,” Rafa said. “Show me how you work it.” Rafa was working hard to keep Rey busy, but his efforts had the opposite effect. El Rey took it as a chance to show off and play even wilder. Sonia wasn’t impressed, though. She decided she’d had enough.
“Okay, you guys have fun,” she said, as she crossed back to the house.
“Ah, come on! Stay and watch. I do better with an audience,” El Rey said como un flirt. Diego would have popped the baboso in the mouth, if he were that kind of boy.
“They can be your audience,” Sonia said, waving out to the end of the driveway, where Carmen and Bianca were marching up toward them.
“Damn, there are some good-looking chicas in this town,” El Rey said, as Sonia crossed down to greet the girls.
“Hey, man, be cool,” Rafa said. Sonia greeted the girls and stood behind them as they all walked into the garage.
“What are you all doing here?” Diego asked.
“Dropping off your sister,” Bianca said. “Your dad’s picking you up here later. But I have to talk to you all about Carmen’s quince, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Hi,” El Rey said.
Bianca gave him the once over. “Quién es ese?” she asked no one in particular.
“That’s Rey,” Rafa said, greeting Bianca and Carmen. Tomás nodded from the corner where he was trapped behind the drums, and Rudy did the same behind his keyboard.
“Okay, so look, I’m glad you’re taking a break, because I need you to listen up. We don’t have the court all set up, but so far, we want Rafa and Patti, Tomás and Mari, Rudy and Alicia, and Sonia will be with Diego. Any questions?”
The boys were like deer in the spotlight.
“Are you asking or telling?” Rafa asked.
“What do you think?” Bianca said. “Don’t worry. My dad is paying for the tuxedos, because of what happened last time.” The boys were confused.
“At my quince,” Bianca added. The boys nodded uneasily and instantly got busy with their instruments.
“So, like, is someone getting married?” El Rey asked.
“No, man,” Rafa said.
“And what about you? Who are you getting paired up with?” El Rey asked Carmen. As soon as he asked, Diego looked over at his sister and noticed she had her full attention on the slick rocker. She was smiling so sweetly he half-expected to see a crown of birds flying around her.
“I don’t know. Maybe you should be with me.”
Diego was happy El Rey had his attention off Sonia, but when he saw he had moved on to his baby sister, he had an estroc.
“No!” Diego said. “I mean, Carmen, come ’ere.” He pulled his sister outside the garage as Bianca continued talking to the boys. He didn’t like it when he saw El Rey paying close attention.
“What do you think you’re doing? That guy is way too old for you!” Diego scolded.
“I can ask him to be my escort if I want to!”
“Yeah, well, ’Amá’s not going to like it.”
“It’s not her quince! Besides, all he has to do is escort me. We’re not getting married and having babies! And I’m not even sure I want him. Chill out!”
But that was a lie. Carmen wanted him. She really, really wanted him. How she would work it—that was what she had to figure out.
“So, tell me more about this keensinara,” El Rey called from across the garage to Carmen. “What do I have to do?”
“Hey, man, she can tell you about it later. We still got to practice,” Rafa said.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” Carmen said. Diego shot his sister the biggest, meanest mal de ojo he could make.
“Qué tienes?” Carmen asked her brother, as she sat, bien cozy, on a stool close to Rey. Diego slunk to the opposite side of the garage, keeping a close eye on the two of them. Ay, qué no, he didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.
“Okay, ya me voy!” Bianca announced. “I got all your numbers, so I’ll call you with more news later.”
“You want my number?” El Rey asked in his slinky way.
“Yeah, dude, I got your number,” Bianca said without looking at El Rey. In spite of themselves, the boys scoffed, one of them uttering a “Damn!” under his breath. But El Rey didn’t notice. He was too busy checking out Carmen, and she was smiling her most appealing smile—thinking of the reaction her mother would have when she announced she wanted to have this strange and dangerous boy be her escort at the quinceañera. He was even a little cute, she thought. Oh yes, El Rey was the perfect escort for her—the perfect boy to drive her mother crazy.
THIRTEEN
Carmen was eating the last of her potato salad as she spoke excitedly about her quinceañera to her ’apá. Esteban listened con cariño as la chica went on and on, describing one thing after another. He could not get excited about dresses and hairstyles and all the things she was talking about, but he loved her. If she was happy, he was happy. Diego sat next to their ’apá, staring at his sister like she had horns on her head.
Carmen’s plan to get Esteban back home for dinner had been forgotten, deflated by Esteban himself. Oh, sure, Carmen had asked her ’apá about eating at home, and he even went along, saying, “Why don’t we get the food from the barbecue place and take it back?” But when they got to the restaurant, Esteban asked his daughter, “What do you think your mother would like?”
“My mother?”
“Well, she’s going to be there, isn’t she?”
Just as Diego was about to answer, Carmen pointed out that their favorite booth by the big fireplace was open, so why didn’t they stay? Esteban agreed, and Diego went along. When the three of them sat down, Carmen was as happy as a little lamb.
...
“Mi’jo, are you sick?” Esteban asked his son, seeing that he had barely touched his #4 brisket plate.
“No, I’m not as hungry as I thought,” Diego said. He looked at his sister as she dug into a peach cobbler smothered in vanilla ice cream the waitress had just brought to their table. Esteban was smiling and nodding, trying to keep up with his daughter, when she came to his place in the quinceañera.
“So, there’s a dance after the Mass, and there’s supposed to be a part when you dance with me and there’s a shoe thing—but I don’t want to do that. It’s kind of weird. And there’s a doll thing, but I don’t know a
bout that, either. I have to find out about it. But you’re going to be there, right, ’Apá? You have to wear a tux, but when you’re done with your part, you can change.”
“I have to dance?”
“Sí, un—cómo se dice?—a waltz,” she said, looking to Diego for help. He ignored her, picking up one of his cold fries and eating it mindlessly.
“But before that, there’s the part of the Mass when you walk in with me. Down the aisle.”
“With ’Amá?” Diego asked.
“I don’t think so,” Carmen snapped.
“Shouldn’t she be there, too?” Esteban asked.
“Yeah, well. We haven’t figured that part out.”
“I don’t know a lot about these things,” Esteban said. “But I think this is a time for us to give thanks to God for our child and for you to show the people that you are ready to be a young woman.”
Carmen sat silently, poking the ice cream with her spoon.
“So, dime,” Esteban began slowly. “How is it at home?”
“Fine,” Carmen said.
Mentirosa! Diego thought. “It could be better,” he said.
“Qué onda?” Esteban asked. Diego felt his mouth go dry, but then with a sudden charge of courage, he heard himself say:
“It would be better if Carmen would be nicer to her.”
Carmen nearly dropped her spoon.
“To who? Your mother? Is that true?” Esteban asked. When she didn’t answer, he knew what he had to do.
“Escúchame. This business between your mother and me—it’s not your business. It has nothing to do with you. This is a nice thing your mother wants to do for you, this quinceañera.”
“But I didn’t even want to do it,” Carmen blurted. “It was all her idea. I never even thought about it.”
“Well, then—if you don’t want to do it, don’t do it. But if you are, do it with respeto y gracias. Entiendes?”
Esteban turned to his son.
“Y tú. I know you’ve been waiting to drive. Just give me some more time. I’m going to fix this, okay?”
“I don’t need to drive,” Diego said.
“Yes, you do,” Esteban said. “It would help your mother. Then you can get a job and start saving for school. I’m going to help as much as I can, but things are not good right now.”
Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz Page 12
