Thanksgiving for the Ruiz family was not the same as always. Because of the split with Esteban, it was decided that the big meal would be held at Marcos’s house instead of Ana’s. Marcos manned the outdoor grill to make the brisket and ribs, while Ana made the turkey and a few side dishes inside. Ana didn’t like cooking in a strange kitchen, but trying to make her way around the unfamiliar room was a useful distraction from her daydreams about Montalvo—and especially from the flock of tías, primos, y hermanas who came in from the Valley, Corpus, and Laredo with their covered dishes and hope of getting all the chisme on Ana and Esteban.
Ana invited Esteban to come to Marcos’s house, but he said no.
“Well, then you explain why to your kids,” she demanded.
Esteban took his children to Luby’s, where they had their cafeteria-style Thanksgiving with a crowd of families too tired or too inconvenienced to cook. Diego didn’t mind. Sonia’s father had invited him over for dessert later in the evening (if it was okay with Ana). Carmen was todo mortified, but that did not stop her from telling Ana that it was the best Thanksgiving ever. Ana took her comment in stride, and when the flock of tías y primas joined in (“Yeah, the turkey was kind of dry this year”), Ana didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. She went through the day in a daze. Relatives talking behind her back would fall quiet when she entered the room. Pero Ana did not care. Y qué?
At the end of the day, when the food was eaten and the dishes were washed, and the men had gone to the backyard to watch the dying embers in the grill, and the women gone to the living room, Bianca reminded Ana that they had some quinceañera business to take care of. Ana winced.
“We have to invite the cousins to be on the court.”
“So, ask them,” she said.
“It’s not for me to ask them, Tía.”
“So, now you don’t want to be in charge of everything?”
Bianca could see that her aunt was not herself. “I’ll go find Carmen. We can do it together.”
Ana sat on the corner of the couch as Bianca gathered the women together. To Ana’s surprise, Carmen joined in. This was her quinceañera, after all. This brought Ana some comfort, and she listened closely as Carmen, with Bianca jumping in, gave out the details as they knew them. When they came to the subject of dresses, Carmen pulled out fabric swatches and passed them out.
“This is the material the damas’ dresses will be made from. This is the basic style, and it can be tailored to fit you. So, you’ll all have the same dress but still be individual,” she said. “That way, everyone can look nice.”
La tía con los stenciled eyebrows and the baby-fine hair fry-dyed the color of a cheap wine looked at her daughter hard. The girl was shaped like an apple with four long poles for arms and legs.
“You’re going on the Slim-Fast tomorrow!” she barked. Ana bit her lip and patted the girl’s knee.
“That color will look real nice on you, mi’ja,” she whispered. The apple girl smiled.
“We’re all wearing kitten heels like these,” Carmen said, pulling out color copies and passing them around. Buy them in white leather and have them dyed. You can get who you want for your chambelán, but if you don’t find someone, Bianca will set you up.”
The cousins exchanged looks. They knew it was not best to leave this up to Bianca.
“But what about your dress?” one of the cousins asked Carmen.
“You’ll see,” Bianca said.
Ana was relieved. Carmen had been working on the quinceañera more than she thought. But the fact that she had done the planning without her made her sad también. Afterward, she talked with Bianca to make sure they were within their budget, and the fact that they were brought her more relief.
“Don’t worry, Tía. I got your back.”
The next day, Beatriz invited Ana over for lunch, and she could see that there was something wrong with her friend.
“How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Fine,” Ana said. “Esteban took the kids to Luby’s and then told them he was going to see his sick uncle out in West Texas.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.” Ana sighed. “Probably. Quién sabe? It was good enough for them. I can’t wait till the holidays are over. I want it all to be over.”
Beatriz didn’t bother asking. She knew the reality of Ana’s marriage was setting in, and her pointing out the obvious wasn’t going to make it any better.
“You’ll never guess who called me over the holiday,” Beatriz said. “Mrs. Gruber.”
“She called you over Thanksgiving?”
“She called me on Thanksgiving. We were just sitting down. I couldn’t believe it.”
“What did she want?”
“She wanted me to make an appointment for her with the president to discuss Montalvo. She was really impressed with him and wants to do what she can to make him stay. I’m thinking this means some new endowment money is on the way. So, between your office and ours, I think making Montalvo an offer he can’t refuse is going to happen. Isn’t that great?”
Ana felt as if the clouds were parting.
“We need to do all that we can to make him want to stay here. It would be great for the department and great for the school,” Beatriz said. “So, whatever you can do to convince him, I’m telling you, it will be a feather in your sombrero.”
Ana couldn’t stop smiling.
“What?” Beatriz asked.
Ana wanted to tell Beatriz about her flying with Montalvo. Beatriz was her comadre, pero she wanted to keep something that belonged only to her. And maybe, just maybe, if Montalvo was going to stay longer than his short residency, there was hope of … oh, but Ana could not let herself imagine that. That was too big, too incredible. And besides, there was still the business of her marriage, her children. So many things to sort through. Even months after feeling discarded and unnecessary, Ana didn’t believe in throwing people away—not Esteban, anyway, even after all he’d done. She wasn’t an “eye for an eye” type. It wasn’t her.
“What?!” Beatriz asked, puzzled as to why Ana was smiling but not speaking.
“Nothing,” Ana said. “I’ll do my part.”
SEVENTEEN
So, this is the part where you might be thinking: Ana, throw down your hair! Have some fun already! Jump on that pony and gallop, mujer! But if you haven’t figured it out by now, that’s not how Ana, um, rides. Not that she sits all sidesaddle with her blouse buttoned up to her nose and her ankles crossed así. Ay no, hearts are tender things. There’s only so many chingazos it can take before it shrinks and crawls off to die.
Before Montalvo came, Ana’s heart was shriveling. Oh, she still loved her kids (even though Carmen was being so … Carmen!) of course. She still cared for her family (even when they drove her crazy); and yes, she still loved Esteban, even after all the drama he dragged her through. It was that other thing that was dimmed. That feeling when all things seem possible and the drive to live in your skin—really live in it—is something you can’t ignore. Before Montalvo came Ana was—how they say?—going through the motions. Running a house. Going to work. Arguing with Carmen. Worrying about Diego. Dealing with her family, shopping, cleaning, working, always doing, doing, doing, and waiting. Waiting for Esteban.
The waiting was the thing that almost did her in, because it’s lonesome work; like a porch light turned on for the loved one who never comes home. Keeping a heart on hold for so long does something to it. It puts a limp in its pulse so that before you know it, it makes someone into those cicada shells that collect under the porch at the end of summer: whole and unmarked on the outside but empty inside. It was happening so slowly, Ana didn’t even know. Pero, Beatriz knew. She saw from the start as her friend slipped into the hollow version of herself. She knew she had to do something, but she knew with her firm grip there was a chance of crushing Ana, and she didn’t want to do that, either. So when Montalvo came—ay, he was the thunder, the spark, the fresh water Ana didn’t know she was m
issing. But Ana was not going to jump into anything because of a few flutters. Okay, it was more like a huge jet engine ready to take off, but Ana was sensible. She wasn’t going to throw herself into any foolishness. But she wasn’t going to ignore how he made her feel, either.
Being around Montalvo made Ana feel like a flor de peñasco, the rock flower her great-tío Carlos showed her when she was a little girl. The first time she saw it was in the Nativity scene he set up in his living room on Christmas Eve. For her tío Carlos, the Nativity scene was a production, with foot-tall wise men carved from wood, and the porcelain baby Jesus all smooth and shiny, ready for dressing; candles and bloodred poinsettias were everywhere. Ana was told to look, not touch, and she marveled over everything with wide eyes. But when she saw what she thought was a tumbleweed sitting in a dish on the manger, she rushed to tell her uncle someone had disrespected all his work. And the baby Jesus.
“Ay no, mi’ja,” her tío told her. “I put that there.”
Ana was stumped, so her tío picked up the weed and told her to follow him to the kitchen. He filled the dish with water, put the brown ball in it, and handed it back to her.
“Go put it back where you found it.”
Ana did what she was told, thinking maybe her tío was getting the old-timer’s disease. But on Christmas morning, he told her to go over and look at the weed. Ana was shocked to see what had happened. The lump had opened. The fronds that were wound into a stingy fist were now uncurled into a moist corsage, caressing the edges of the dish. The plant was—how they say?—verdant and alive.
And that was how Ana felt.
After many months of going dead, Ana was lush. And even if nothing happened with her and Carlos Montalvo, she didn’t want to let that feeling go away. She thought about that when she placed her own flor de peñasco on the Nativity scene she and the kids set up in the living room. She would keep it watered all through the holidays. but later, after Three Kings Day, when it was time to take down and store all the holiday decorations for next year, Ana would keep the flor de peñasco near her bed as a reminder that she was, yes, still alive.
Nothing had changed. Esteban was still gone, Carmen was still Carmen, Bianca had mostly moved in with her and her kids, and the house—the house had turned into quinceañera central: bolts of cloth, a long sewing table made from an old door, pins and needles, threads, trim, measuring tapes, and even dress forms Bianca made of each dama using duct tape she taped around the girl over a T-shirt (como un mummy), then cut off and stuffed with newspaper, y ya! She had a dress form for each girl (qué clever, no?). Plans and cosas for the quinceañera took up every empty space in the Ruiz house.
Ana lost the battle for a small reception. Beatriz was the one who convinced her:
“You really want all those people tramping through your house? Setting up and cleaning is going to be a nightmare. Larry and I will help.”
So a hall was booked for the reception, the food was ordered, the invitations were designed and at the printers. Cynthia and her mariachi were booked. But there were still party favors to be made, and flowers to order, and tables to dress, and on and on and on.
The holiday season made Bianca return to her old ways of trying to make things bigger than they needed to be. Ana decided to allow the girls some decisions as long as she had the final word. But more important, Ana decided that something had to happen, something had to move forward in her life, in her marriage, in her relationship with Carmen. As for Montalvo, well—she couldn’t say she was disappointed in what was happening with him. She wasn’t with him, not the way Carmen thought after the Montalvo pachanga, but they were definitely getting friendly.
After a couple more lunches Ana met Montalvo at some university events. Nothing as fancy—a lecture, a faculty art exhibit—small, safe events that each of them would have gone to anyway. Montalvo enjoyed her company, and he was happy to have a lovely and intelligent woman to share his thoughts with. Ana was a good listener. She seemed to understand him. And he probably understood Ana more than she knew. Montalvo knew there was nothing worse than going after a woman who was still tied to another man. (Cómo se dice? It’s complicated.) Because of her children, Ana would not give in. Montalvo had always gotten what he wanted in the past. He was not used to waiting. Pero, this time he would wait, he told himself. He would enjoy her company. And there was nothing more enjoyable than being around a woman who felt good about herself. Being around Montalvo made Ana feel confident, and the more confident Ana felt, the more attractive she became. After a staff meeting one morning, Cynthia asked Ana if she’d lost weight. As they walked across campus to a meeting, Beatriz asked if she’d changed the color of her hair. Even Mocte couldn’t help but ask one afternoon:
“I know this is crazy, miss, but is it possible that you are taller?”
It wasn’t the clothes Ana wore, or the color of her lipstick, or the way she styled her hair. It was something else that made even those she had routine contact with wonder what was different about Ana Ruiz. Men at the university who had known Ana for years looked at her a little longer, wondering why they hadn’t paid more attention to her in the past. And while things at home were still restless, having an excuse to run into Montalvo made Ana look forward to each new workweek. Still, she wasn’t prepared when Montalvo called her to make a bolder move.
“Oye, Ana. They gave me passes to this film festival at the Esperanza Center. You will go with me, yes?”
Ana was holding the phone on her shoulder, balancing a pile of file folders on her lap.
“Un momento, okay?” She put the phone on hold.
“It’s Montalvo. He wants me to go with him to a film festival,” Ana said to Beatriz, who was eating her lunch in Ana’s office.
“The one at the Esperanza? You should go,” Beatriz said.
“Why do you think he’s asking me?”
“Because … he wants you to go with him?”
“No! I mean, why?”
“Because he wants to go and doesn’t want to go alone? Because he thinks you might enjoy it? Because he enjoys your company and he knows you enjoy his? Take your pick.”
It was safe and made sense to see Montalvo on campus, but off campus? Ana wasn’t so sure.
“What should I do?” Ana whispered.
“Well,” Beatriz laughed. “Do you want to go or not?”
Ana was perplexed.
“Híjole! Give me the phone—”
“No!” Ana wrenched the phone away like a four-year-old. “It’s just that—it’s off campus. That’s different from doing stuff around here. You know?”
“Yeah, you’ll have to cross the street and everything!”
“You know what I mean,” Ana said. “I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I shouldn’t go, huh?”
“Okay.”
“But if I don’t go, would that be … I don’t know … ”
“Look, all you talk about is the quinceañera and work and your kids and Esteban. This might be a nice break. Something new.”
Ana was still perplexed. She hated this. Hated the excitement and confusion rolled up together. She was still not sure what to do when Beatriz set her salad on Ana’s desk and jumped out of her chair.
“Ándale!”
She lunged over Ana’s desk, knocking over whatever was in her way, and grabbed the phone from Ana with one hand and pushed the blinking button on the console with the other. Ana pushed herself away from her desk in surprise, spilling the files on her lap onto the floor.
“Señor? Hola! Qué tal? Habla Beatriz Milligan! Bien, bien, gracias! Oye, Ana would love to go with you. Oh, yes, she’s here. She had to take another call and I was standing here. We’ve been having a working lunch. So she says she would love to go and … tonight? Sure she can go tonight. Do you need a ride? Oh, good! Then, she’ll meet you there. You can find it? Bueno pues, bye-bye!”
Beatriz hung up the phone, plopped back into her chair across from Ana, and went back to her salad. “Ugh! I hate mushy c
routons.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” Ana said. She wanted to be angry with Beatriz, but she wasn’t. She was thrilled. She took her time picking the files from the floor so Beatriz would not see her. Ana was smiling so hard her face ached.
“I’m sorry. Do you need some help down there?”
“No, no. I got it.”
“He’s leasing a car now. I told him you would meet him there. So, it’s not really a date, okay? And besides, I keep telling you, everyone in town is working to keep him here. That’s why he’s getting invitations and tickets to everything in town. It’s no fun going alone. Pretty soon, he’s going to stop going, in which case, all of our little elves miss their chance to encourage him to stay and our grand plan is ruined. So, from where I sit, I think it’s your job to go with him.”
“Well, okay Madam Beatriz!” Ana said. She popped back up from under her desk with the files in her arms. She dropped them on her desk and began sorting them.
“It’s just hanging out, not hooking up!” Beatriz insisted. “God forbid you might enjoy yourself!”
Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz Page 18
