Despite the suffocating room, a cup of tea waited for Ana at the table. So did Betty and Carla, who stopped whispering to each other as soon as she entered the room. They’d want to know what happened, what it was that brought Ana and her children to their door. It was always hard for her to lie to the Sandoval sisters. They’d known her since she was a child, but aside from their long history together, they knew how to lie and how to spot it. Carla, in particular, had an ear so attuned to bullshit that hiding things from her had been particularly difficult for Betty. But Ana wasn’t prepared to tell them everything that happened that night either. She just needed a plausible explanation for leaving Lexar Tower. She left out the police and the pills.
“I don’t understand,” said Carla as she fanned herself with a crinkled issue of TV y Novelas magazine. “Valeria thought you stole her bracelet? The one we all saw you wear on New Year’s Eve? She’d never let you wear it without her permission. Why would she accuse you of stealing it?”
“I still had it,” Ana explained. “I suppose she thought I wasn’t going to give it back. But I never meant to keep it. With work and all the packing I was doing, it just got lost in all that mess. She asked for it back, and I guess I couldn’t find it fast enough for her. So she lost it. She screamed at me, called me a thief and a freeloader.”
Carla grunted. “Why, because she gave you a bed to sleep on? You’re her family. Well, you by marriage, but Lucho and the children are her blood. He lost his job. You needed a place to stay. What, did she expect you to live on the street? She’s supposed to help you.”
“Everyone outstays their welcome at some point,” she said, and as soon the words came out, Ana flushed. She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful to Carla, but the look on her face meant she took it that way. “I mean,” she tried to clarify, “Valeria never wanted me there in the first place. She loves Lucho. He’s like a brother to her. She’s always saying that at least, but she’s never liked me. She keeps trying to convince Lucho to move back to Peru. She doesn’t think we can make it here. Sometimes I think she just wants us to fail to prove a point.
“What, that it’s hard here?” said Carla. “She doesn’t need to prove that. It is hard here.”
“Not that,” said Ana. “That Lucho made a mistake by marrying me.”
“She’s going to think that,” said Betty. “You were with his brother. Besides, every limeño thinks the same way she does. If you’re not from the capital, you’re just a savage. It’s that Spanish blood. It’s what makes them think they’re better. She’s got some Swiss in her, too, no? That only makes it worse. Anyone that looks like us or Ernesto just ruins the race. You can’t let their ignorance get to you.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Betty. You don’t even look like you’re from Santa Clara.”
Carla fanned herself more fervently. “She thinks we’re savages, doesn’t she? Ignorante. She tried to embarrass Ernesto on New Year’s Eve, remember? When she said his mother was from la sierra. Her own husband is serrano, but she had to point out Ernesto’s mother. Well, no one here cares about those things. Whether you’re from Santa Clara or Lima doesn’t matter. Peruvian, Puerto Rican, Nicaraguan, Mexican. We’re all the same to these gringos. She’s been here long enough, she should know that.”
“But she’s white,” said Betty, “and she’s from la capital. That hasn’t changed. And now she lives in a fancy building in New York and has a green card. I’m sure those things make her feel even more superior.”
“But to treat your own family this way?” said Carla. “Accuse you, Ana, of stealing? Qué porquería. Y qué pena.”
“It is sad,” said Ana. “I feel it more for my kids. Michael’s the only cousin they have here, but I don’t want them anywhere near her. It’s clear now the kind of person she is. I don’t ever want to see her again.”
They fell silent and, for what seemed like a long, long while, the only sound Ana heard was Pedro’s laughter at what was on the television. The giggles came quicker, morphing into a refrain that made her pulse pound. Up until that night, she didn’t believe Valeria was capable of any real harm. She was pretentious and selfish, but Ana was willing to bear the brunt of her flaws for the sake of Lucho and the kids. She could forgive the accusation of adultery, the name-calling, even the invasion of her privacy, if that was all that happened that night.
But she couldn’t forgive the call to the cops. She couldn’t erase the sight of Valeria pointing her finger at her, at Victoria and Pedro, calling them illegal as if their very existence were an absolute impossibility. What was illegal about them? Their presence? Ana’s effort to make a life for them here? What was it that made her soulful son and her inquisitive daughter so criminal?
If there was one criminal that night, it was Valeria. She was the one who wanted to rob them: Victoria and Pedro of their mother; Ana, of her children; Lucho, of his family; the family of a life. Even if she hadn’t succeeded at tearing them apart, she managed to take from them whatever sense of safety she and her children had left. Ana couldn’t forgive her. Not this, not ever. If there was one completely true thing she said that night, it was that she never wanted to see Valeria again.
Then Betty asked, “When do you move into the new apartment?”
Ana snapped back into the room. “Next week, I hope. Sully said it’s almost ready. I just can’t go back to Valeria’s.” She paused, hoping Carla might pick up on what she wanted and offer help before Ana had to actually ask for it. When she said nothing, Ana turned to her and said, “Carla, I don’t want to impose. I just didn’t know where to go. We’d only be here for a few days—”
Carla immediately put her hand on Ana’s forearm. “You don’t have to ask,” she said. “We don’t have much space here now, but I’d never say no to you and the kids. And it won’t be for long. Soon we’ll be helping you move into that new apartment. Let me talk to Ernesto. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Thank you.” Soon, thought Ana. Soon she’d move into a new apartment. If only soon could be tomorrow; if only it had been yesterday. If only Lucho could get Sully to finish faster, especially now that the lease was signed.
Then, suddenly realizing she hadn’t heard from her husband, she asked, “Has Lucho called? I left a message with the base before I left Valeria’s.”
Carla and Betty exchanged glances, but neither had spoken to him that night. “I’m sure he’ll call soon,” said Carla. “He’s probably got a busy night, what with this weather.” She stood, ungluing her forearms from the plastic table cover. “I’ll find some bedsheets for the living room, get you guys set up on the sofa bed. Vicki can sleep with you and Yrma,” she told Betty. “There’s enough room on that bed for the three of you.”
Carla disappeared into the unlit hallway and, once she was out of earshot, Betty scooted her chair closer. Her eyes grew large, the skin beneath them thin and purple under the fluorescent light. “Now tell me the truth,” she whispered. “What really happened with Valeria?”
Ana exhaled slowly. Her spine curved as she leaned over the table. Carla bought the pared down version of what happened that night at Lexar Tower. Valeria accused her of stealing that bracelet, and Ana left, unwilling to hear any more of Valeria’s insults. That story was enough to get her and her children refuge in Carla’s home. As far as she was concerned, that was the only story she needed to tell. If she spoke of the rest, it might feed gossip. Gossip that, without question, could make her situation worse than it already was.
But this was Betty, and the weight of the night was too much for Ana to bear alone. That her own carelessness could have gotten her and her children deported weighed on her with a heaviness that made it almost impossible to move.
“She found the pills,” she admitted. “And the pregnancy test.”
Betty’s face went pale. “The pills? You said you finished them.”
“I did!” she said, but she wasn’t sure anymore. Her voice cracked as she whispered. “I swear I did.” She replayed over and ov
er the times she took those pills. In the bathroom, with the Malta. In the middle of the night. The shower was running once. She remembered her mother. Pedro came in. He woke up and she wasn’t in bed. He was so scared. She was so, so tired. She wondered when it was that she’d made a mistake. “I don’t know.”
Betty’s eyes sprinted back and forth. “But what do you mean she found them?” she asked.
“She found a couple,” said Ana. “In the bathroom.”
“Did she know what they were?” she asked, agitated. “Did you tell her?”
“She knew. Apparently, it’s one of the things she takes in her suitcase. She asked about the pregnancy test. She thought I was sleeping with Rubén.” She rolled her eyes at how ludicrous the idea seemed, but Betty still had a look of consternation on her face. “I told her I wasn’t, which I’m not. Then she called the cops.”
“¿La policía?” she repeated, as if she’d misheard.
Ana recounted what happened next. How the two police officers stood at her bedroom door while Valeria pointed at her and her children, told the cops they had no papers. She recalled more details in the retelling, as if it were another one of her dreams: the coolness of the bedroom wall as she pressed her back against it, how Pedro whimpered as she held him tighter, Victoria’s hot breath on her stomach as she hid her face, her feet inching back against the wall even though there was nowhere to go. “If it wasn’t for Michael,” she said, “I don’t know where we’d be right now.”
Betty fell back in her chair. “Malvada. I knew she was a piece of shit, Ana, but to try to deport you? I never thought she’d go that far.”
“I should’ve known,” she said. A nagging in her gut prompted her to say what she said next. “Le gusta su trago,” she whispered, as if she were betraying a secret. “She drinks every night. Every night. Sometimes its beer. Sometimes rum or vodka.” She had never considered Valeria an alcoholic. That word was reserved only for men, those so drunk they stumbled in the streets or had to be brought home by a pair of equally inebriated friends. She’d never seen Valeria drunk, not to the extent that she slurred her words or needed to be carried to bed, but she did notice how quickly the bottles of alcohol and cans of beer disappeared from unit 4D. The alcohol that was there during Valeria’s month in Peru was still there when she returned. Whenever there was a shortage of one bottle or another, it was quickly restocked. Even though she saw it, Ana didn’t want to acknowledge it. It seemed to her that neither did Lucho or Rubén.
“I don’t think the shop is doing well,” she continued. “It’s why she’s there all the time. It’s why she’s always taking stuff back and forth to Peru.” It wasn’t just her marriage that Valeria was worried about losing, but the body shop, the business that she’d poured her time and her parents’ money into building. Ana suspected it was this that Valeria was most terrified of losing; that, and Michael. “I don’t want your sister to know what happened,” she said. “The last thing I want is to be de boca en boca, especially after tonight. I need to keep my family out of people’s mouths.” She didn’t want Carla blabbing to the women at la factoría, but she was more concerned of what she might say to Mama.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything,” said Betty. “But my sister’s not good at keeping things like this a secret. Neither is Ernesto.”
“I know that,” she replied. “By lunch tomorrow, I’m sure everyone will know what happened tonight. That’s why I couldn’t tell her everything. No one needs to know there’s an alcoholic in my family, or that she tried to deport us. It’s humiliating, all of it.” There was no question in her mind that, however malicious Valeria was and whatever troubles she was going through, it was no one else’s business. Not that she cared about protecting her reputation, but Ana couldn’t shame Valeria without also hurting her own family by association. “I’d rather people wonder if I really did steal that bracelet. It’s better than people thinking Lucho might also have a drinking problem. Valeria thought I took it, so I left. That’s all your sister or Ernesto needs to know. We’re moving into a new apartment soon, so we were going to leave anyway. That’s all anyone else needs to know.”
Betty threw her head back. “Are you sure she doesn’t know I gave you the pills? I don’t want her starting any trouble for me, Ana.” She insisted that in all that transpired that night, Betty’s name was never mentioned. Her reassurance, however, did little to quell Betty’s fear. “You should’ve known better,” she continued. “It’s horrible what she did. I can’t imagine doing that to my worst enemy, let alone family. But Ana, come on. You know you should’ve taken better care of this.”
“I did exactly what you told me to do—”
“I don’t mean the pills,” she said. “Well, that too. But you just said she likes to drink. She’s losing her business. She’s unhinged. And you know how jealous she can be, especially with her and Rubén’s history. He’s always been so different with you. Always thanking you for every little thing you do. It’s like you’re doing him this huge favor by just handing him a plate of food. He helps you clean up, he buys things you tell him you need for the apartment. He treats you better than his own wife, and it’s very obvious. And you’re young, you’re pretty. You live with them. Wouldn’t you be just a little jealous if you were her?”
She knew Betty was right. Ana had never flirted with Rubén. She was too reserved to flirt with anyone, and she didn’t even find him particularly attractive. But it was the friendship, the advice, the secrets she and Rubén shared, however few they were, that were problematic. Even the appearance of intimacy was something both Valeria and Lucho had called out.
Yet nothing could justify Valeria’s actions that night. “That doesn’t make what she did right,” she said.
“It doesn’t,” Betty agreed. “But she was in Peru for a month. An entire month! You were the only woman in that apartment, and you acted like the place was yours. Then she finds those pills and a pregnancy test in your room. I’m not saying she’s right, but look at it from her perspective.”
“I took care of the place while she was away,” she said. “I treated it like it was my own, yes. That doesn’t mean I was fucking her husband.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “But if you had nothing to hide, you could’ve told Lucho. You could’ve made the decision together and then you could have gone to Alfonso together and there’d be nothing to hide.”
“Except it’s not Lucho’s decision to make,” she said. “Besides, you know I can’t tell him.”
“But why can’t you? If it’s his child, then please tell me what the problem is. What is it that you’re so afraid of?”
She opened her mouth to respond, then stopped herself. There was so much she was afraid of, but nothing she wanted to voice. A part of her believed that saying her fears aloud might make them real, but some were already tangible, alive and visible for all to see. She was afraid of being a mother again, of putting her body through the havoc of pregnancy once more. She feared losing the small sense of independence she had now that her children were a little older, no longer nursing or relying on her embrace as their sole source of comfort. The age that didn’t show on her face showed elsewhere on her body. On the surface of her abdomen, with its torn and stretched skin, and in the breasts that hung unevenly on her chest. It showed in the lack of control she had over something as basic as urinating, and the constant need to line her underwear in case she carried something too heavy or sneezed. Lately, when she lay in bed unable to sleep, her heart palpitating and her breath short, she was reminded of being in her last month of pregnancy, when she could barely move without feeling like she had climbed four flights of stairs. She had become this señora, heavy with stress and scars, something, she convinced herself, that her friend—younger, childless, her body intact—couldn’t possibly understand.
But it wasn’t just reliving the physical and mental demands of pregnancy and mothering an infant that she feared. It was what she had now, even in the simultaneous
chaos and simplicity of her life, or perhaps because of it, that she wanted desperately to preserve and nurture. She wanted her marriage. She wanted her children. She wanted her job and to keep working, to save, perhaps one day have that restaurant she dared to speak of over dinner with Lucho so many years ago. If she hadn’t intervened, then what? She’d be sacrificing her future and that of the children she already had for something she did not know. Not that it was an easy decision to make. She tried to detach herself from it, thinking only of the reasons to do it. She kept going back to that day in la huerta, when she needed to pick up the blade and swing it, not because her mother told her to, but because, despite whatever she felt then, she needed to eat and a sacrifice had to be made.
She couldn’t tell Betty this. “I told you,” she said. “Lucho wants to go back. He just needs a reason. What better reason than another mouth to feed?”
Betty drew up her knee and rested her chin on it. Her voice was thick as she muttered, “Well, you can’t have it now. You know that, right?”
She knew. There was no going back at this point. She had taken the pills; she’d bled. She’d know soon enough what effect, if any, they’d had on her. But there was no going back. She had started something and she needed to finish it.
Betty then whispered, “You should think about sending Vicki and Pedro back.” She shot her hand up before Ana could protest. “Piénsalo. That’s all I’m saying. Just think about it. What happened tonight could happen again. You could be snatched away just that fast. Those kids don’t deserve that. They shouldn’t live in constant fear of losing you or each other.”
“But that’s exactly what you’re suggesting I do,” she said. “You want me to break up my family. Send them away like they’re one of Valeria’s packages.”
“Sending them to Peru is not the same as having them taken from you, Ana! And don’t get mad at me for saying this, but you’re not thinking about them. They need stability.”
The Affairs of the Falcóns Page 21
