Most of the boys stripped off their shirts, but Felix was modest. He kept on his yellow polo shirt.
“Rain would be nice,” Josefina said. “We haven’t had a good rainfall since May.”
“Yes, rain would be nice,” I said. I didn’t even care that the rain around here had the habit of wetting the muck the company had left behind in the soil, making our entire neighborhood smell like chicharrones. I could live with the smell of pork rinds if it meant cooling off.
Colonel Franco left and returned with a couple of cans and paintbrushes. “Brush the inside brick with this to help repel moisture,” he said. “It will prevent molding once we place the panels.”
We stroked the bare sections of wall with our paintbrushes.
Felix was gone by lunchtime. I didn’t pay attention to much of anything the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t even ogle Marcos in his skin suit. I just wanted to hurry up and get back to the bakery in case Felix decided to pay us a visit.
I walked home as soon as Colonel Franco said we were done for the day. I found Felix deep in conversation with my dad. Felix’s hair was a mess. His cheek and yellow shirt were streaked with soot. That and the empty display cases meant the oven was still out.
“I couldn’t tell anything from just climbing in,” he said.
“We could pay to have someone come out and take a closer look, but they don’t make these anymore. They’ll have a hard time finding parts. Even with new parts, it’ll just be a bandaid. The only real solution is to buy a new one.”
“It’s a big investment.”
“With the money that La Gran Pirámide will bring, it won’t matter. Let me run upstairs and grab that catalog I got in the mail,” he said and disappeared.
I pointed at Felix’s cheek. “You got something there.” I didn’t want to talk about the oven, I wanted to talk about what had happened in the alley.
My dad returned with an armful of catalogs. “I can bake upstairs for a while. But a new oven is an investment.”
Felix and my dad flipped through the catalogs together. They compared prices on the Internet until it got dark and Felix went home. I waited for my dad to fall asleep, planning to pull out my bike and follow Felix. I wanted to know if the kiss had been real.
I must’ve been tired from actually getting to work outside because I fell asleep first.
Chapter 32
Colonel Franco told us exactly what to do and showed us how to do each task. The boys framed the inside walls of the pyramid using four-by-fours. They trimmed the first panel to height and propped it up using a level. Marcos covered a hammer with a rag to protect the finish on the panel and pounded the nails every four to six inches along the edge of the wood frame. He moved from one edge to the other.
They repeated this with each panel.
“Be sure to leave a few millimeters in between each panel to avoid expansion problems,” Colonel Franco said. “The panels will expand with the humidity.”
Josefina and I measured the electrical switches and plumbing and sketched the measurements onto the panels. Felix took a small jigsaw and cut out the marked sections.
“I have to leave early again to help Belinda. I won’t be able to come to the bakery after,” Felix said. He cut the last panel and headed out.
I couldn’t help feeling shortchanged. Marcos stared after him. “He’s not one of us, Masi.”
I looked at Marcos. What did it matter that Felix hadn’t grown up in Pig Park? Maybe that wasn’t what Marcos was getting at, so I replied with the only other thing I could think of. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Marcos.” Marcos shrugged and stomped away. Felix was making it so that Marcos finally saw me as more than a kid sister type. Was that it? Probably not, but it didn’t matter. I liked Felix.
Once all the panels were in place, we nailed on the plastic molding. “It’s getting late. Let’s wrap things up,” Colonel Franco said. “I will see you tomorrow.”
I walked home and found Loretta standing outside the bakery. I held the door open and she squeezed through. “What can I get for you, Loretta?”
“I came to see if you guys had fixed the oven.”
“We haven’t. My dad cranked out a batch of ginger pigs and baguette rolls in the kitchen upstairs this morning.”
“That’s very resourceful.” She proceeded with a half-hour exposition on the state of affairs in the neighborhood. She gave her opinion on everything from the inside of the pyramid to the paleta vendor who had set up at the park when the construction started. She’d seen him picking his nose when he thought no one was looking.
She paced back and forth in front of the door. She opened her mouth and closed it. She looked me up and down. “I’ve been worried about your dad,” she finally said.
“He’s fine.”
“Really?”
“Fine.”
“Mija, but how does he feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“She left him.”
“Oh,” I said. She always knew more than anyone gave her credit for, but she didn’t seem to know that my dad was set on a reconciliation. Of course, it was none of her business as usual. I wanted to tell her so. She was making me uncomfortable. “My mom will be back,” I said instead, even though I didn’t exactly believe it yet.
The answer satisfied her, because she didn’t push. “Mija,” she said, “they’ve been tearing up one of those old American Lard housing buildings over by the train stop. I saw that Belinda girl out there. She up and bought the building.”
“I didn’t hear anything about that.” Felix hadn’t mentioned that the real estate thing was for real.
“I bet you Jorge Peregrino knows something. I’ll see you later, and I’ll keep you and your dad posted.”
“Enjoy your night, Loretta.”
“You too, Masi.” She strolled down the street toward the flower shop.
I stuck my neck into the stairwell and called up to the living room. “Dad? Are you still up there?”
“I’m working on recipes,” he yelled.
I locked up, washed the dishes and put everything away.
Chapter 33
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Loretta had said. None of the Sanchezes knew how to leave well enough alone. I pulled out the bike and headed down the street toward the building Loretta had mentioned.
A large dumpster had appeared in the middle of the street. The building’s insides hung all around it like the wires of a broken appliance. There were discarded walls and pipes everywhere. It was late and hard to imagine what was going on. The building had taped on curtains, fashioned from newspaper, covering the work from people like Loretta and me.
Low voices streamed from the back of the building. There was laughter, Belinda’s loopy laughter. I slipped down the side of the building. A swirl of smoke drifted up into the sky. It smelled of burning tires and angry skunk.
I’m not sure why I didn’t announce myself. Maybe I figured that if Felix had wanted me around, he would’ve invited me. I put my face up to the slats of the wooden fence and just listened and watched. Belinda sat on a lawn chair with an old man’s pipe in her hand. Felix sat on a plastic milk crate nearby.
“You’re a good guy, Felix,” she said. She puffed on her pipe. She patted Felix on the head like a dog. He shrugged her off. “You’re a good boy.”
“This is what you’ve been up to the whole time? Why you would go along with this?” His voice was harsh.
“You and I define success in different ways. Even father defines success differently. This is a job, Felix. You do these people a disservice to think otherwise.” She pushed her pipe at him. He pushed it away. His lips curled like he’d just bit into a piece of moldy bread.
“You’re heartless. This isn’t right,” he said.
“Feelings don’t matter in the end.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“That’s because you’re good. Didn’t I just say that?”
“You don’t have to be good to be
lieve in something. Maybe believing in something can make you good.”
“You’re not listening to me. More and more as of late.” Or maybe he just didn’t understand what she was talking about, like me.
“You mean less and less. That’s because I can’t listen to this anymore. I’m out.” He stood, his back to me. He leaned down into her. He was going to kiss her. I was sure of it. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t bear to watch. I stopped breathing. Nothing else mattered. That thing inside my chest kicked at my ribs.
I stepped back and tripped on a bottle. It rolled down the sidewalk and into the gutter. I ran.
“Who’s there?” Felix called out. “Who is that? Hey, wait!”
I jumped on my bike and peddled hard. Tears boiled to the surface and streamed down my cheeks. Halfway down the block, I looked over my shoulder. Felix stopped to catch his breath. He yelled something at me that I couldn’t hear and threw his hands up in the air.
I pushed my feet down even harder until I made it home.
I wiped my face with the collar of my T-shirt. I could barely see straight. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I took a deep breath and opened the door. I sniffled into the inside of my elbow and tried to look like it was just another night in Pig Park.
My dad sat at the kitchen table, scribbling into his note cards. He hummed a romantico song under his breath.
“Looking at recipes again?” I asked in a tiny little voice.
“Something like that,” he said. He held up the card. There were five lines in Spanish.
“Is it a poem?”
“Could be. Good food is lyrical like poetry,” he said. “Takes the perfect blend of flavors, textures and aromas. Don’t look at me like that. I work with my hands, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know things.”
“I didn’t say that. Has my mom called?”
“Yes. I told her to call back later.”
“You talked to her?”
“Yes. We talked for awhile.”
“Hmm.” I waited, but he didn’t volunteer any other information. I forced a smile. I walked upstairs and barricaded myself in my room to cry some more.
Chapter 34
My dad set down a tray of ginger pigs and a tray of bolillos in a series of swift movements. He was a regular bread ninja. “It’s a beautiful morning,” he said.
I grumbled.
Somewhere deep inside I was happy for him that he and my mom had talked. Maybe she was finally coming back. But I couldn’t share in it. There was all kinds of other junk rattling around in my head.
“I’m staying home today,” I said. I wanted to crawl back into bed.
“If that’s how you want to treat your responsibilities.”
“I guess not.” I couldn’t help feeling guilty and selfish.
I was the last one to arrive at the park.
“Listen up, everyone. We are done with the construction,” Colonel Franco said. Everyone applauded. They patted each other on the back.
“That was fast,” Josefina said.
“Yep. Like Colonel Franco said: two triangles here, two triangles there.” A pyramid was little more than simple geometry. Plus, Peregrino’s friends had done the hard parts. I know I should’ve been a little sad that we were done. Our summer together was almost over. I wasn’t sad though—for once. I wanted to get away from Felix, and I wanted to go home.
I started walking away.
“Not so fast,” Colonel Franco said. “You got one more thing to do. We’re decorating today. Then, you can go home. Felix, did you bring the boxes Belinda gave you?”
“I need help getting them here.”
“Pick a volunteer.” Colonel Franco motioned at us with his hand.
“Masi,” Felix said. I shrunk back. I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I looked over to Josefina a few feet away. She shrugged.
“I’ll go,” Marcos said.
“No,” Felix said.
“Stop messing around and someone just go.” Colonel Franco interrupted.
“Masi,” Felix repeated. Felix didn’t waste any more time. He put his hand on my back and steered me toward the sidewalk. I stumbled along.
“Masi, I don’t know what you heard last night,” he said.
“I didn’t really hear anything, but I saw,” I said. My breath caught inside my throat.
“What did you see?”
“You kissed her.” The words were sawdust in my mouth.
“Belinda?”
“Yes. You kissed Belinda, after you kissed me.” Felix chuckled. My hands balled into fists.
“I didn’t kiss her. Not like that. Belinda is my sister.”
“What? She doesn’t even look like you.”
“She’s my half-sister. My mother was once a student of Dr. Vidales Casal. It was before he was a big deal. She didn’t know he was married or that he had a family. When I came along, he acted like he didn’t even know her name. She dropped out of college to get a job because of me.”
“Dr. Vidales Casal is your dad?” That thing inside me twitched.
“He doesn’t publicly acknowledge it. That’s why I use my mom’s last name. Belinda uses her mom’s last name too: Fitzgerald. She’s not perfect, but at least she accepts me as her brother. She helped me get my scholarship and got me here. It’s important for me to finish school fast so maybe I can help my mom finish her degree too. My mom shouldn’t have to be a waitress forever because of me.”
“Wow.”
“Yes, wow. Belinda has a big mouth sometimes, but I don’t tell people. I told you because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I care about what you and your dad think. You’ve been good to me.”
“I won’t tell anyone else,” I said. It dawned on me that even with my mom gone, it could be worse.
We walked into the warehouse. “Belinda is out. Jorge is in the back doing inventory,” he said. His eyes locked in on me. “Now that you’re not mad at me, can I ask you for something? Can you help me talk your dad out of buying that oven when I come by this afternoon.”
“Ok.” I didn’t know why Felix would even care about my dad buying that oven, but I agreed. Jumping to conclusions hadn’t done me any good the night before.
Felix stacked four boxes on one dolly and three on another. He passed me the handles of the dolly with less boxes and grabbed the other one. He hummed as we pushed the boxes back to the park.
I walked over to Josefina’s side. She nudged me with her elbow.
“Everything okay?”
I nodded.
“Come on, what are you waiting for?” Colonel Franco asked. The ladder was already propped up against the wall.
We each took a few items. There was a variety of colorful clay suns and moons. We hung them along each of the four walls. We placed a statue of La Muerte at the center and arranged an army of skeleton dolls in action clusters—macabre renditions of the department store window scenes they put up downtown every Christmas. We lined the outer edges of the pyramid’s floor with hundreds of candles. The last candle fell into place just before midday, and everyone cheered. We were finally finished.
“I have to return the dollies, but I’ll be by in a little while,” Felix said to me.
Josefina and I walked home together. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I told her about the kiss. I told her almost everything, but left out the business about Belinda. I had promised Felix not to tell anyone about his family secret. The words jumbled in my mouth trying to explain what I felt.
“Why were you so out of it this morning then? Is your mom okay?”
“She’s okay. I guess I was just feeling weird about the whole Felix thing.”
“Because of Belinda?”
“No,” I said.
“Be careful. Felix is like a drug. You should hear yourself,” she said.
I laughed. Maybe none of it made sense. That was okay. I knew what I wanted, and Belinda wasn’t standing in my way.
Chapter 35
My dad pushed
a tray of ginger pigs in front of my face. I breathed in their warm spice. “Eat one,” he said. I tore at the auburn flesh and put the piece of perfect plump pig in my mouth. The flaky top gave way against my teeth. Its buttery tissue melted on my tongue. “How is it?” he asked.
“As delicious as ever. I could eat these for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
“We did it.” Felix smiled. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I smiled back.
“Those aren’t regular marranitos.” My dad pulled an index card out of his pocket and pushed it at me. It was a folded card like the one I’d taken for a love poem. “Look at the ingredients.”
I squinted and made out the Spanish word for flour. Harina. “Huh?”
“No sugar in these,” he continued. He snatched the card back. “I made them for your mother, so she can have sweet bread even with her diabetes.”
“Dad, she’s going to love these.” I threw my arms around him. “You’re a genius.”
Felix grabbed a ginger pig. Greasy outlines on the tray, like the body outlines at a crime scene, revealed that it wasn’t his first.
“What’s in them anyway?” I asked.
“Felix told me about all these natural products I could substitute for our homemade molasses and other ingredients. We experimented.”
“First we tried Stevia. It’s a ground up sweetleaf from South America. But there was an aftertaste. It couldn’t produce the right color for the bread either. There was also Agave syrup, from the agave plants. We just couldn’t get it to the right consistency. Finally, we got on the Internet and discovered Yacón syrup. It’s native to Peru and comes from the roots of the yacón plant. It’s made with an evaporator, the same way as maple syrup and the taste is closer to molasses,” Felix said.
“I tweaked my recipe for marranitos around the substitutes. I also adjusted the amount of baking soda, and there you have it.”
“I think you can sell these.”
“I really made them for my wife. With the cost of Yacón syrup it would be hard to break even. Hold on, Felix. Let me grab the stuff to show Masi.” My dad disappeared into the kitchen.
Pig Park Page 10
