So many images flooded past him: brown-skinned families reaching within the gaps of a US-built fence, forced to wear their best smiles; tiny kids like Max and Mía working day jobs to help their families make ends meet; elderly men and women selling handmade items, curbside.
A strange mix of sadness and pride overtook him, and for the first time in his entire life, he finally felt connected to his Mexican side. Everywhere he’d been, Efrén had witnessed signs of courage, people no different from himself refusing to give up. He shook his head, remembering all the times he’d corrected Max and Mía for speaking Spanish, insisting that they learn the only language that mattered. Now, he understood why Amá and Apá continued to speak Spanish to them, even when they themselves needed every opportunity to practice their English. He’d been born Mexican American. Only he’d forgotten about the Mexican part.
Nunca olvidaré. He would not forget. Efrén joined the end of a long line and waited in silence. He looked down at his ID, birth certificate, and notarized letter of permission—hoping they would be enough to get him back home. When his turn came, Efrén nervously handed his paperwork to the mustachioed officer.
“Reason for visiting?” the man said in a slight Mexican accent.
Efrén understood the Latino man was simply doing his job, but that didn’t stop him from judging his choice of job. “To visit my mother,” he said, looking up and giving the man a hostile look. “She got deported.”
The officer put the documents down and paused, as if to find just the right words. “Go ahead,” he said while handing everything back to Efrén.
Efrén reached over, but the officer gripped the forms and wouldn’t let go. “These forms,” he said, leaning forward and whispering, “represent a giant sacrifice from your parents. A true gift. Don’t let it go to waste. ¿Entiendes?”
The words caught Efrén off guard, but he understood exactly what the man meant. “Yes. Completely.”
And with that, the officer released his hold. “Next!”
Efrén hurried until he was completely outside the building. Just like that, he was back in the US. He paused for a second and looked around, wondering if he’d someday return to this land of broken dreams. The immigration officer had been right. He’d been given a real gift. One that allowed for him to return to Apá.
Efrén studied the flow of people and followed them until he saw the red trolley up ahead. Across from there, he spotted an antsy Apá pacing up and down the sidewalk in his black sweatshirt.
Apá looked up and sighed in relief, then turned around and got in his truck.
Efrén jogged over and jumped into the passenger side. Before he could say a word, Apá reached across and hugged him closely like Amá had just done. “Mijo, I was so worried. What took you so long?”
“I got a little lost,” Efrén said, still wrapped in Apá’s arms. “But I found Amá and gave her the money. And guess what . . . she’s gonna be crossing tomorrow morning. With the best coyote in town.”
Apá unwrapped his son. “¿En serio? Tomorrow?” His lips rolled into a smile. He turned and tousled Efrén’s hair. “You did good, mijo. I am so proud of you.”
Efrén smiled back.
“And to think how close I came to running across and looking for you. I swear . . . if it wasn’t for Max and Mía, I would have tried.”
“Yeah,” said Efrén, “I believe you.”
With the long drive ahead of them, Efrén took the time to answer all of Apá’s questions. Of course, there were lots of details that Efrén decided to leave out. As far as Apá needed to know, the trip had been a walk in the park.
While it hurt to lie to Apá, Efrén didn’t see the point in upsetting him. Hearing that Amá would be back soon had Apá happy and full of life. Efrén sank back in his seat, as Apá blasted the radio and sang along. For Efrén, it was like getting a tiny peek at what Apá must have been like when he was younger. Amá would always tell stories about outrageous things he did when they first met. How he’d run away from his parents’ ranch for weeks at a time, showing up in nearby cities, looking for jobs that made use of his brains, not his hands.
“Can I ask you a question?” Efrén asked, his eyes still gazing out the passenger window.
“Sí, claro,” answered Apá while bobbing his head to the music.
“Why did you and Amá leave Mexico in the first place? You and Amá seem to have so many great memories from there.”
He lowered the radio. “It’s a long story, mijo.”
“That’s okay,” said Efrén. “It’s a long ride home.”
Apá laughed, this time turning off the radio completely. “Well, I’d just become a lieutenant in Mexico City . . . youngest one ever at the time.”
Efrén could feel the pride in Apá’s words.
“But then, the drug cartels began to get more and more power. Soon the government itself became corrupt—bien chuecos—and many of my own men began taking bribes for small favors. But those favors grew bigger each time. Then one day, some men from a maldito cartel stopped by. They wanted help releasing a few of their men. They gave me a choice. Help them out and get paid nicely or . . .”
Efrén’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”
“I said no and tried holding my ground. But then . . . I got word you were on your way. I couldn’t risk your or your Amá’s safety. I got my temporary visa—”
“And Amá came over on the back of a motorcycle!”
Apá laughed hard. “She told you that story?”
Efrén nodded.
“Yes, mijo . . . we have lots of good memories there.” He turned to Efrén. “But we’ve made new memories here. Three of them actually: you, Max, and Mía. And we wouldn’t—”
Suddenly, his face turned pale.
Efrén looked up and suddenly saw a wall of red brake lights ahead of their car. Apá put on the brakes and then shifted in his seat, angling his head to get a better look ahead as traffic came to a crawl.
Efrén did the same. “What if the checkpoint is open? What if—”
Apá rested his hand on Efrén’s shoulder, immediately easing his tension. “Tranquilo, mijo. Be calm. We will get through. Promise.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out two sticks of gum. “Here.”
Efrén took a stick of gum with a blank look on his face.
“It’s hard to look nervous when you’re chewing gum. Trust me. It’s an old trick I picked up a long time ago while on the force.”
Efrén felt like he might need the entire pack. Nevertheless, he popped the gum into his mouth and began to chew.
“Just lean your head against the window and look really bored.” But that was easier said than done.
Apá continued to crane his neck for a better look. “I can’t tell if it’s open or not. Too many big trucks.”
Efrén pressed his forehead against the passenger window and crossed himself before shutting his eyes for a quick prayer. Please, God, . . . let it be closed. Let it be closed.
He suddenly felt Apá’s hand tapping him on the shoulder. “Look.” He pointed up ahead and cheered with the same kind of excitement he had when his Club América team scored a goal. “They’re closed, mijo! They’re closed!”
Efrén opened his eyes and caught Apá sighing deeply before sinking back in his seat with a smile. “See . . . told you we’d be fine.”
Efrén let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. Again, he shut his eyes. Again, he blessed himself—this time thanking God for everything He’d given him:
Thank you, Dios. For everything.
For Amá. For You keeping her safe.
For Apá, who never gives up on his family.
For Max and for Mía . . . who love me and make me feel like I matter.
For being able to live in the US.
For being able to go to school and not having to work instead.
For—
The sudden acceleration of the car broke his thoughts. Efrén’s stomach churned as they dro
ve passed the unmanned station. The taste of the gum was now gone and this time, he spoke his thanks aloud: “Gracias, Diosito.”
He looked back as the car sped up, his mind racing about what could have happened. Apá had told Efrén not to worry. That the border patrol officers would have simply waved Apá through along with the rest of the traffic. Why then, had Apá looked so worried?
Sixteen
Efrén was glad to reach home, even if it was so late. All Efrén wanted was to get some rest. But first, they needed to stop by Adela’s apartment across the street and pick up the twins.
Apá tried to pay her, but she wouldn’t have it, saying all she wanted was for Amá to make it back soon.
Max and Mía had fallen asleep on the couch while watching SpongeBob reruns. Apá bent down and scooped up Max, while Efrén leaned in and picked up Mía.
Even with her light frame, she began to weigh on Efrén’s arms by the time they made it across the street. Apá reached down and took her over his shoulder as well. Determined to help, Efrén rushed up the stairway and held the door open for Apá, who now strained with the weight of a twin on each shoulder. Max looked up and winked at Efrén, who followed closely behind. Efrén broke out laughing and winked back at Max.
Once inside, Apá lowered the little ones onto the mattress with the same care Amá always did. Even kissed the same spots on their foreheads. To think, sometime tomorrow, the coyote Lalo found would be returning Amá home, where she belonged. Efrén could almost feel her kisses pressing against his head again.
Too exhausted to undress, he kicked his shoes off and tucked himself between his brother and sister. “Good night, Apá,” Efrén said mid-yawn.
“Buenas noches,” he said, as he turned out the light.
Efrén shifted over, trying to avoid the annoying ray of moonlight that somehow always managed to seep in through the cracked window blind. Even with little light, he could see Apá lying down onto the mattress beside him, pulling up the covers, and blessing himself.
A thought raced through Efrén’s mind. “Apá?”
“Yes, mijo?”
“You think we could go to mass tomorrow? With you?”
Apá laughed to himself. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. It’s the least we can do to give thanks. Now get some rest. You earned it.”
Minutes later, just as Efrén’s mind began to doze off, he felt a chubby foot poking the side of his face. But after everything he’d just experienced, he didn’t mind anymore.
The next morning, a noise in the kitchen woke Efrén. He lifted his head and wiped his eyes.
¿Amá? For a split second, he thought she’d somehow returned. But his mind immediately set him straight; it was just Apá, standing over the kitchen sink.
Sunday mornings were usually the only day of the week when Apá got to sleep in while the rest of the familia attended eight o’clock mass. It wasn’t due to a lack of faith though. No, Apá was very religious. He was just tired—a lack of sleep from the long hours he worked. But not today.
Efrén gently lifted Max’s leg off him and headed to the kitchen. “Apá, ¿qué estás haciendo?” he whispered.
“Estoy limpiando.”
Efrén paused to think. Apá was right. The place was a mess. There was no way he could have her come home to this. Not after all she’d been through.
He might not have been able to form steaming sopes with his bare hands, but he was able to clean a kitchen with the same speed and precision as Amá.
“It’ll go faster if I help,” Efrén said.
Apá shot him a smile before tossing him a cleaning rag.
Cleaning up such a tiny kitchen didn’t take long—not with Max and Mía asleep instead of running around trying to help.
Efrén put the last plate in the cabinet as the phone rang.
Not waiting for a second ring, Apá just about flew to the phone. “Sí, ¿bueno?”
The moment was at hand. Efrén leaned in closer, trying to listen. “Is it her?”
Apá nodded, still listening attentively. The words coming over the phone were muffled, but the excitement behind them was clear as day. Efrén crossed himself and rested his head on his pressed hands.
Suddenly, Apá’s entire face lit up and Efrén knew the news was good.
“¡Ya cruzó!” He put the phone aside and shouted. “She crossed! She’s in San Diego. On her way home!”
A sense of joy surged throughout every inch of Efrén’s body. He ran up to Max and Mía. “Wake up. Amá’s coming home. Today!”
Never before had Max gotten out of bed so quickly. “Amá?” Tears flowed down his round cheeks as he jumped up and bear-hugged Efrén, who in turn picked him up and squeezed him before spinning him around.
“Are you sure?” Mía’s soft voice asked.
Efrén lowered his little brother and knelt beside her. “Sí, Mía. I promise. This time it’s for real.”
A smile—a very special smile—now filled her face.
“Amá’s coming home!” This time, it was Apá shouting at the top of his lungs. “She’s coming home!”
And with that, Max catapulted himself onto the mattress and did the most spectacular flip anyone had ever seen him do. Apá and Efrén looked at each other and shared a nod. Before long, the entire family was jumping on the mattresses—including Apá.
Max and Mía paraded around the room in their freshly-ironed Sunday best. Apá stood back, looking bothered.
Efrén glanced at the crooked creases down Max’s pant legs. “They’re not so bad. It’s not like you burned them.”
Mía spun and swirled the lace skirt of her dress. “I think my dress looks beautiful.”
“Yes, it does, mija,” said Apá. “Bien bonito . . . but a bit short. You better put some shorts on underneath.”
Apá turned to Max’s snug-fitting pants. “Ay, mira no más. My little muffin boy.” He tried squeezing a finger into the waistband. But when that didn’t work, he simply rubbed his chin, thinking.
Efrén took a closer look. “Amá usually moves the button or sews in more fabric.”
More milagros.
“Well, how ’bout this?” He went into the kitchen and pulled out the Velcro kit Amá sometimes used to hold up picture frames. He undid Max’s front button and secured the Velcro along the front. “There. No one will ever know,” he said, giving Max a gentle pat on the rear.
Efrén pointed to the clock on the microwave. “Apá, we’d better hurry.”
“Apá checked his watch. Okay, mijos . . . why don’t the two of you go brush your teeth and do your hair while Efrén and I stack the mattresses and make this place look nice for your Amá. And Max”—he turned right to him—“just a little Moco de Gorila gel in your hair.”
Max smiled and shook his head hard as if it were a rattle.
Apá looked on with a crumpled forehead as the pair raced into the bathroom.
Efrén knew that look well. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Apá?” He tilted his head and gave him a look.
“It’s just . . .” Apá sighed. “You guys deserve so much more than this. Pobrecitos—their clothes barely fit. And you. I’m sorry, mijo.”
Efrén looked down at his own yellowing polo shirt and patched-up, navy blue pants. “Sorry for what?” he asked.
Apá glared down at the mattresses on the floor. “For all of this,” he said, gesturing around to the entire apartment. “For failing you and your hermanitos. You guys shouldn’t be living this way. A kid like you should have his own room.” His eyes panned down to the mattresses on the floor before giving the nearest one a good, hard kick. “Or at the very least, an actual bed.”
“Apá—beds are overrated. I don’t need a bunch of fancy stuff to be happy. I’ve got my family. Well, by tonight I will. And that’s more than a lot of people have. Trust me.”
“You are an amazing kid. You know that, right?”
Efrén grinned from ear to ear. “I just try to cop
y you and Amá.”
Mass felt a bit more special than usual. Before it even started, Apá knelt down, locked his hands tightly, and shut his eyes. Without missing a beat, Max and Mía kneeled alongside Efrén, no doubt praying for the same thing.
At the end of mass, Father Octavo announced the pancake fund-raiser happening in the courtyard. Once there, Apá pulled out a few dollar bills from his wallet and counted to himself. It was all he had left after donating the rest during mass. Apá ordered two meals, making a total of six pancakes, four strips of bacon, four sausages, and a pile of scrambled eggs to share.
After watching Max gobble up everyone’s leftovers, the family walked back home. All Efrén could think of was getting ready for Amá’s return. There was so much to do. First was picking the best roses from the apartment building’s flower bed. Efrén, Max, and Mía each picked different colored roses; Efrén stuck to pink, while Mía and Max went for any shade they could reach.
They stopped by the fruit trees for a few treats to take home and made a quick stop at the 99 Cents Store. Using a pocket full of laundry quarters, Efrén bought two “welcome home” balloons for Amá, which of course, both Max and Mía wanted to carry back to the apartment.
The balloons drew the attention of the entire neighborhood. Everyone they passed stopped to ask if Amá was coming back.
“¿En serio?”
“¡Ay, qué bueno!”
The cries of support were everywhere. Soon, every woman Efrén had ever seen at the laundromat stopped by the apartment with a welcoming dish in hand: Fried taquitos, tostadas, elotes, mole, enchiladas, flan, carrot cake—you name it, it was there.
Efrén couldn’t believe how many people they’d actually managed to cram into the apartment. It seemed everyone wanted to be there when Amá came back. But as the time passed, the worry started.
“No se preocupen de nada. Ese tráfico es maldito,” said Don Ricardo with a smudge of guacamole at the edge of his mustache. And he was right. The I-5 was horrible. Amá was probably just stuck in traffic.
Efren Divided Page 13
