“What if I went somewhere besides U of H?”
“Like community college with Brenda? I mean, that’s cool, but U of H is better, isn’t it? For academics and all?”
“I mean, like somewhere in another city.”
“What?” He looks up at me, and I think I see fear in his eyes, a fear I can understand. The fear that everything could be pulled out from under you at any moment.
“Ms. Ford says UT–Austin has the best engineering program in Texas.”
“But you never applied to UT.”
I lean back against the bridge railing and smooth my hands over my dress. “Yeah, I did,” I manage to say.
“Shit, Marisa. And you didn’t tell me?” The look on his face takes me back to the day under the oak tree. I shiver.
“I didn’t know how, I . . .”
He’s gripping the guardrail of the bridge so tight that his knuckles look white.
“So, at first I just applied because Ms. Ford was bugging me about it, and then . . .”
He doesn’t say anything, so I tell him the whole story.
“Your mom hid the letter?” He slaps his hands against the railings. “Mexican mamas don’t want their girls going away, that’s for sure.”
“Ms. Ford said that the dean of the engineering school was interested in my situation. They’ll still let me in. He thinks there should be more girls like me in engineering, whatever that means. They even want to give me an extra scholarship.” I look up at Alan and then back down at my hands. “So in a weird way, my mom’s sneaking around could actually help me out. I mean, if I go.”
“Just give me a sec, OK? Just a sec.” He walks away from the bridge and walks around the garden. It seemed big enough when we first came out here, but I can tell he’s wishing for a field, for space. For room to get away from me.
I turn back to watch the fish and ask myself why the hell I had to open my big mouth. But I already know why. Because I can’t be with him and keep secrets between us, not after what we’ve already been through. Not after he forgave me.
When he finally comes back, he doesn’t say anything, but he slides his hands around my waist and lifts me up until I’m sitting on the bridge’s railing.
“Careful!” I squeal. I pull up my dress a little and wrap my legs around his chest so I won’t fall. He steadies me with his hands and lets me lean against him.
“You’ve given me a lot of big news,” he says softly. “Maybe too much.”
“You have a right to be mad, I know it,” I say.
“So it’s off to UT, then.” He doesn’t look at me, but I can see how he’s clenching his jaw.
“No,” I say. The distance in his voice scares me. “I mean, I haven’t decided anything. I’ve still got U of H.”
“You’re going to go. You want to be somebody, Marisa. You deserve to go to the best school. It’s pretty obvious what’s going to happen.”
“You’re mad.”
“I just can’t figure you out. I thought I had you back, and now I have to lose you all over again.”
“You don’t have to. I can be somebody right here.”
“Think about it. In Austin, you could leave your books out whenever you want, no dirty looks from your dad.” He lifts one hand to my cheek.
“I don’t know what will happen with my parents if I go. And there’s Anita.”
“You can’t stay behind forever trying to fix Cecilia’s life. She’ll find a way to manage. She’s not perfect, but she loves her kid.”
“Anita won’t understand.”
“Come on, Marisa. Do you want to go?”
“I think so.”
“Then go. After everything that’s happened, what anybody else wants doesn’t really matter.” He starts to lift me down from the railing.
“What about us?”
“That’s how things go,” he says, still not looking me in the eye. “Nothing ever stays the same.”
“Alan.” I put my hands around his neck and pull his face toward me. “If I go, it doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I don’t want to lose you.”
Finally he looks at me, and so many things seem to pass over his face that my heart starts to race. Now I’m going to have to pay for my mistakes; I just know it.
“Please,” I say. “You could help me do this.”
His eyes look wet, and he strokes my birthmark with his finger. I don’t care if he rubs all the makeup off and our prom picture comes out bad. I just want to feel that touch as long as I can.
It seems like forever before he speaks.
“I know the way to Austin,” he says so softly I can barely hear him.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His hand on my cheek slips down to my mouth. His fingertips graze my lips, and I’m still a little scared because I don’t want Pedro to be anywhere inside our kiss. Alan just watches me and waits; he won’t do anything till he knows that I’m OK with it. That’s the kind of guy he is.
“Please,” I say, “I want to kiss you back.”
June
chapter 35
“Marisa, they’re calling for us!” Brenda shouts before running back out of the bathroom. I dry my hands and straighten my gown. Not even the stupid graduation cap can bother me today.
The processional music starts up a second after I slip into line with the rest of my homeroom. I squint up into the stands as we march down the center aisle toward the stage, but I don’t see my family.
Alan is just a few people ahead of me, and it makes me happy to see his messy brown hair sticking out from under his cap. He never turns around, just keeps moving forward.
The ceremony is long and boring except for the two minutes it takes you to walk up to the stage, cross it, and get your diploma. When the whole thing is over, we scream our class year and throw our graduation caps up in the air.
The caps spin and swerve like a flock of crows on their way back down, and I’m pretty sure the one I catch isn’t the one I threw, but it doesn’t matter. Today I feel like the whole world is mine.
There’s lots of hugging and good-byes. I dodge questions about the future and fudge the truth when anyone presses for details.
Brenda overhears and shakes a finger at me. “If I wasn’t so happy today, I’d be mad at you. Cutting out on me like this.”
“Come on, Brenda,” I grin. “You know you love me.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I? Nah, I’m not mad no more.” She pulls me in for a hug. “We did it, chica. From dumpy middle-school kids to high-school graduates.”
Then she spots her family.
“Over here, Ma!” she shouts, waving at her parents. Her dad’s bald head is shiny with sweat, and his face glows with pride. “Go Brenda, go Brenda, go B-R-E-N-DAAAAAA!” he chants. I walk over with her and hug her parents.
Alan comes over with his family and a bunch of relatives. I stay and talk, but mainly I’m looking for some sign of my own family.
“Want to hold her?” Jessica asks, tilting Katalina toward me.
“Sure.” I take Katalina and support her head carefully. She stretches, yawns, and wiggles her legs a little. Then she kisses the air and makes a sucking sound.
“Uh-oh, she thinks it’s dinnertime,” I laugh.
“She’s just happy when you hold her,” Jessica says.
“You getting any rest?”
“She’s a good sleeper, thank God.” Jessica’s eyes are tired, but she looks happy.
“Tienes sueño, little one?” I say. Katalina smiles up at me and puts her hand in her mouth.
“She won’t be little for long. By the time I cross this stage, she’s going to be running circles around me,” Jessica says, gently lifting her baby from my arms.
“The important thing is that you get across the stage,” Alan says, wrapping a protective arm around his sister.
Jessica nods, but she’s not really listening. She’s caught up in her baby again, stroking her tiny hands and talking to her in that secret language only mothers
and their babies know.
That’s when I finally catch sight of my family. Cecilia and Mami are carrying a homemade banner that says “CONGRATS MARISA!” and Anita runs toward me as soon as she sees me.
“Tía!” she shouts.
“Hi, beautiful,” I say, scooping her up. “Did you get bored sitting up there for so long?”
“Nope, I got my books.” She points to a bag looped over Cecilia’s arm. “Abuelo let me read to him.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow and set her back down. I can see my dad walking over with everyone else, arms folded over his chest. “That’s a big deal. I tried to get your abuelo to read with me a long, long time ago, but he wouldn’t.”
“Mira what me and Mommy and Abue made for you!” She points at the banner and drags me through the crowd toward it.
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Cuidado!”
Anita nearly knocks over someone’s grandmother and stops just short of crashing into Mami. Cecilia swats her on the bottom. “Manners!” she says.
“I’m so proud of you, mija,” my mom says, squeezing me tight. “You have done a big thing.” She holds my face between her hands and kisses my forehead. “I knew you would make it.”
“Thank you, Mami. I love the banner; it’s so pretty.”
Cecilia jostles my mom’s arm. “Come on, let me have a turn, Ma.” She hands Anita the banner and smothers me in a hug. Gustavo doesn’t wait for his turn; he just picks me up and swings me from side to side like he does with Anita. “You did it right, sis!”
“Put me down!” I shriek, digging my nails into his arms. He cracks up and plops me back down.
“Thank you,” I say with as much dignity as I can manage. I scoop up my cap from the ground.
“I’m going to start looking for a good car for you, something to get you to U of H and back every day.” Gustavo slaps my back hard.
“Great,” I say weakly.
“Mija.” Papi steps forward. I hesitate for a second, but when I kiss his cheek, I don’t smell anything but the Old Spice cologne he always puts on for special occasions. “Felicitaciones,” he says. “Felicitaciones, Marisa.”
That’s all he says, but when I search his face, I think I see a glimmer of pride. No matter what, he’s still my dad.
“So what are we going to eat? All that sitting wore me out.” Gustavo rubs his belly.
“Can I braid these, Tía Marisa?” Anita interrupts. She tugs at the honor cords draped over my gown. So my grades didn’t turn out as sucky as I thought they would. Gracias a Dios for extra credit.
“In a little bit.” I shake the cords out of her fingers. Past a clump of cheerleaders posing for a picture, Ms. Ford is talking to some kids from my calculus class.
“Ma, I’m going to go say good-bye to one of my teachers,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
“Congratulations,” Ms. Ford calls, hugging me as soon as I walk up. The other students go off with their families, and we’re alone.
“This is a big day,” Ms. Ford says. Her eyes are moist and a little red, but she’s still smiling.
“Thanks to you, miss.”
“You talked to your parents?”
“Not yet.”
“But you’re going to?”
“I just need to find the right time.” I take Anita’s idea and keep my hands busy braiding both ends of the honor cords.
“They’re your parents. They deserve to be part of this kind of decision.”
“It’s just that they . . .”
“Even if you think they don’t agree, they should know.”
I nod, but I have no intention of telling them.
“Good. So everything is set with the School of Engineering. You need to go by the office next week to fill out papers for your work-study job. You’ll also be able to plan out your classes for the fall and register for the summer session.”
“Wow,” I say. I still can’t believe it’s me she’s talking about. It’s all happening so fast—which is how I want it to be, I guess. Might as well start with summer school. Lots of freshmen do it, Ms. Ford told me. And the sooner I go, the less time I have to chicken out.
“Where are you going to stay, again?”
“One of those co-ops you showed me online. The College House.”
“Then all that’s left is your graduation present.” Ms. Ford reaches into her purse and pulls out a rectangular package with an envelope taped on top. “Your family’s waiting for you. Open it later, OK?”
“Thank you so much. Calculus saved me this year.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” Ms. Ford hugs me one more time. “I expect to hear from you.”
“I’ll be in touch. For sure.”
“And just remember, it’s not going to feel like home until you make it home.”
chapter 36
It’s almost midnight by the time I finally sit down on my bed. I went to Brenda’s graduation party with Alan, but now I have to get my head together and pack.
From under the bed I pull out my old red duffel bag and a suitcase I borrowed from Brenda. I circle the room slowly, trying to decide what to take. I stop in front of the dresser and pull down the pictures I taped to the mirror over the years. I put them in a neat pile on my bed with a bilingual Bible I got for confirmation and a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird I won in an eighth-grade spelling bee. I lift a stack of T-shirts from a drawer and set it into the suitcase.
Ms. Ford’s present is still on my bed, too. You’re supposed to open the card first, but no one’s watching, so I rip into the package instead. It’s a brand new calculator, the graphing kind we used in AP calc. I know it’s dorky, but I think it’s beautiful. Who knows, maybe I didn’t even pass the AP exam. But then again, maybe I did. By the time I find out in July, I’ll be a real college student. I’ll be on my way no matter what.
I slip my thumb under the flap of the envelope. The front of the card has a woman making a giant victory sign with her arms. Inside, the message is simple:
————
Marisa,
I hope this comes in handy in your engineering courses. But even more, I wish for you loads of the blessings that can’t be calculated. You’ll be in my thoughts. Go UT Longhorns!
—Ms. F
————
I slide the card and package into the suitcase and pick up Paco. I straighten his teddy bear button eyes and smooth the bare places in his fur left behind from the times Cecilia and I played barbershop with him ages ago.
I think about packing him, then decide that it’s time for Paco to officially belong to Anita. I know everybody’s going to be mad at first, but Anita’s the only one I’m really worried about. I don’t want her to think I left her.
I pull shoes out from under the bed one pair at a time. I’m digging deep for a missing flip-flop when my hand brushes against the box where I save my letters and cards.
There are lots of drawings from Alan, notes from Brenda going all the way back to middle school, collages and coloring pages from Anita, birthday cards from my aunt in Mexico. There’s also a stack of postcards that I got here and there over the years. I pick up one with a picture of a bluebonnet and turn it over. Then I lay all the postcards out in front of me in neat rows. Cactuses, paintings, parks, cartoons, one with a D.A.R.E. slogan. None of them used. I stare at them for a while. Then I dig for a pen and start writing.
————
Dear Anita,
I bet you are probably wondering why I’m not home to see you right now. Remember that book you read to me about jobs? I’m at college in Austin so that someday I can have the job I want. But I won’t forget about you, chiquita. I’ve got a whole stack of postcards just like this one, and I’ll send you something new to read every week.
Love, Tía Marisa
————
I’m finishing my message when there’s a knock on my door. I jump up and shove my bags under the bed. Probably it’s Gustavo wanting to tell me some dumb drinking story.
; But when I open the door, it’s my mom standing there in her nightgown.
“Everything OK, Ma?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“OK,” I say a little hesitantly, opening the door wider. Suddenly I notice how bare the mirror looks. I see the clothes heaped by the door, the empty hangers in the closet, the pile of postcards.
But Mami doesn’t look around. She keeps her hands rigid against her sides and walks to the bed so slowly that it seems like with every step she’s fighting the urge to turn around and walk back out.
I smooth the blanket and sit next to my mom on the edge of the bed. I pull my legs up and drag Paco into my lap. I play with his soft teddy-bear ears and keep quiet; I’m not going to risk giving anything away.
“Mija, listen. I know I haven’t been fair to you. Especially not what I did with that letter. The thing is, I’ve always needed you. I couldn’t—I can’t imagine handling things without you. Tu papá . . . he isn’t such a good man sometimes.” Her eyes are already getting damp.
“Shhh,” I say, stroking her back.
“It’s no excuse, mija; I know that. The things he’s said and done . . . sometimes I can’t believe that I stand by him.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I was never like you, so much confidence, so much brains. I was always burra, slow. But I have been lucky. I got you and your brother and sister. And you are all fine hijos.”
“We want to make you proud.”
I can’t decide if I should wipe away the tears trickling down my mother’s cheeks or just pretend I don’t see them. It’s a matter of what will embarrass her least.
“Your brother and sister, they never wanted to go outside of here or do anything different. But you—”
“I know, Ma. I made it hard.”
She hushes me. “You were always special, curious, interested in everything. And smart. I never knew how to be the right mom for you.”
“It’s OK. You tried; I know you did.” I reach up to wipe her tears away. There are too many for my fingers to catch, so I use the corner of my pillowcase. “You’re just worn out after such a long day.”
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