The place was packed with people. A stereo perched on a sideways-leaning table on the front lawn. It was attached to a thick orange extension cord that snaked into the house. The speakers on either side of the stereo jumped with each beat of merengue music. As we got out of the van, the crying and hugging started all over again.
Papi introduced us to his two brothers, three cousins, and four nephews from the nearby village where he was born. Papi’s oldest brother, Tío Rogelio, was wearing a Yankees cap and a T-shirt that said “Columbia University.” He put an arm around Papi and squeezed him. “My baby brother,” he said. “A big-shot New York lawyer! Who would have thought?”
“All of us,” his middle brother, Tío Marcos, said. He stood on Papi’s other side and patted him on the back. “This guy,” he said to me, “was the smartest kid for miles. When the teacher was sick, he was the substitute. Even for the older kids!” He and Tío Rogelio laughed. Papi blushed.
“It’s true,” Tío Rogelio said. He pointed at me. “This one must have your brains,” he said to Papi. “I can see it in those eyes.”
“Ana María is a very good student.”
“You see? I knew it! I can tell these things!”
“Ana María, has your father told you about our baseball games when we were kids?” Tío Marcos said.
I shook my head.
“We were unbeatable!” Tío Rogelio said. “You remember that, don’t you, Tavito?”
“Of course,” Papi said. “You pitched, I caught, and Marcos ran like the devil getting away from church!” The three brothers howled and slapped each other’s backs.
“We were a great team,” Tío Marcos said.
I met a lot of people that day. Juan Miguel introduced us to his parents and a bunch of his cousins and aunts and uncles. We met Tía Chea’s husband, Tío Pepe, and his father, Don Feyo, who lived with them. We also met Tía Chea’s two younger children, Juancito, who was fifteen, and Muñeca, who was thirteen like Gracie. Then there were a bunch of old people — Abuelita’s cousins and friends, and even an aunt of hers. The aunt sat in a rocking chair the whole time. When I walked up to say hello, she grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go. “So you’re the pianist,” she said. “We’re all so proud of you!”
How did all these people know so much about me? It felt a little weird, but also kind of nice, like I belonged with them.
***
It was dusk when Mami pulled Gracie and me aside. “Would the two of you like to stay at Chea’s house?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Gracie said. She had hung out with Muñeca all afternoon.
I looked around. We were in one of Tía Nona’s living rooms, which was bigger than our one and only living room at home. It had a gigantic couch with carved wooden legs that curled under it, two matching chairs with fluffy pillows, three fancy lamps with golden fringe dripping from their edges, and a sparkling white baby grand piano. Mami had told us this room was just for decoration. There was a whole upstairs too. “Why? Isn’t there enough room for all of us here?” I said. If we could all fit in our apartment, surely we could squeeze in here.
Mami leaned forward and whispered to us. “Chea will be offended if nobody stays with her. And I think the two of you could handle it.”
“That’s fine,” Gracie said. “We’ll go.”
“What do you mean, ‘handle it’? What’s wrong with Tía Chea’s house?” I asked.
“Well, nothing. It’s just that she’s a little old-fashioned.” She looked at me, then at Gracie, then back at me again. “Her water situation isn’t what you’re used to.”
“What does that mean?” I said.
“Well, there aren’t toilets and sinks inside the house.”
What?! “How long do we have to stay there?”
“Oh, it’ll be fun, Anamay,” Gracie said. “Like camping, right?”
Mami stared into my eyes and held her hands together like she was praying or something. “Okay,” I said, even though I didn’t want to.
Suddenly, the room got dark and the music stopped. We heard groans outside. “Not again!” someone said.
Gracie grabbed my arm. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just a blackout,” Mami said. “That happens a lot here.”
Outside, an engine purred, then roared. The lights flickered until they were back on, and I jumped when the music started up again. “What is that noise?” Gracie asked.
“It’s the generator,” Mami said. “It kicks on whenever the lights go out.”
“Does Tía Chea have a generator?” I asked.
“Probably not.”
Great.
***
Gracie and I climbed into the van with Tía Chea and her family. It wasn’t far, but the electricity was still out, so the roads were super dark. When we arrived at their house, Tío Pepe used a flashlight to guide us to the front door, and Tía Chea lit two oil lamps inside. Muñeca gave us a tour.
“You’ll sleep in here with me,” she said, lifting the curtain that blocked the doorway between the bedroom and the living room. Inside were two beds with mosquito nets hanging over them. A bare cot sat in one corner. “I don’t need a net,” Muñeca said. “But you americanas will be eaten alive without one.”
The outhouse was behind the house, but not too close — maybe a city block back. Muñeca led the way, flashlight in hand. We were still a few feet away when the stench hit me. It sort of reminded me of the stairway to the subway, but way worse. Muñeca reached for the metal handle on the door of the windowless wooden hut. “Make sure you don’t touch the door,” she said. “You could get splinters.” She pulled the door toward her and walked right in. She didn’t hold her breath or pinch her nose with her fingers or anything. Once inside, she pointed the flashlight at a metal string hanging from the low ceiling next to a lightbulb. “When the lights are working, you pull on that,” she said. “But always bring a flashlight with you, just in case.” Then she pointed the light down at the only thing in the room: a wooden bench with a hole in it. A roll of toilet paper sat beside the hole. “If you need to go in the middle of the night, the flashlight will be on the night table in our room.”
I made a mental note not to have anything more to eat or drink that evening.
Tía Chea, Tío Pepe, and Don Feyo were talking in the kitchen when we got ready for bed. Moths and beetles circled the small oil lamp on the table, sometimes almost landing on their cheese and crackers, or in the tiny cups of black coffee they were drinking. No one seemed to mind. They just kept chatting, and casually waved a hand at the pests every few minutes.
Muñeca handed each of us a glass of water, and got one for herself. “Let’s brush our teeth,” she said.
We went outside and brushed our teeth in the quiet darkness, spitting water onto the dirt. I looked up at the sky, and was amazed by the way the stars completely filled it. You can’t see stars in New York City. Here, there were millions. And everything was so quiet. Maybe Gracie had been right about this being fun. Or at least different. Maybe I could write about this for one of the essays required on the scholarship application. That would probably help me stand out from the other kids.
Then I felt an itch on my knee, and one on my ankle. Soon I was scratching everywhere and slapping the buzzing mosquitoes away from my ears. I ran back in the house and under the safety of the mosquito net.
Chapter 24
The noisy crickets made it hard to sleep. Their eerie chirps were nothing like the soothing sounds of car horns and sirens at home. And just when I finally dozed off, the roosters started to crow.
I was exhausted in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep anymore. Outside, people were laughing and calling out to each other, and dogs were barking away. I lifted the mosquito net and slipped out of bed and into my flip-flops. I took two steps toward the doorway, then stopped to look at Gracie and Muñeca, who were still s
ound asleep. I slowed down my steps and tried to tiptoe, but the suck-slap-suck-slap of my shoes still seemed super loud.
When I got to the living room, I looked around. Tía Chea’s house reminded me of Abuelita’s apartment. The framed painting of the Virgen de Altagracia by the front door and the family photos all over the orange walls were exactly like the painting and photos on Abuelita’s orange walls. And Tía Chea’s doors were purple too! The back one was ajar, so I peeked outside. Tía Chea was walking out of the little wooden building behind the house — the kitchen, Muñeca had told us the night before.
“Buenos días, Anamay!” Tía Chea held a pan of still sizzling sausage in one hand and a plate with crispy tostones in the other. I held the door open as she came inside. “Go wake up the girls, and I’ll get the boys.” She put the plates on the table. “We have a lot to do today.”
Those were the best tostones I had ever eaten. Tía Chea said it was because the plantains were freshly cut that morning. Maybe staying on a farm wasn’t such a bad idea after all, as long as I hid out under the mosquito net at night.
After breakfast, Tía Chea clapped her hands. “Pepito and Juancito, get the water for the baths! Muñeca, bring towels and washcloths for your cousins, then make the beds! And you two” — she pointed at Gracie and me — “get your clothes and don’t take too long in your baths.”
My clothes and towels were bunched up in my arms when Pepito walked in with a giant bucket of water from the tank outside. I followed him into the bathroom, which was small and square and had a very low wall that ran down the middle of the room. When Pepito set the bucket down on the other side of the wall, I realized that side was the bathtub. “That should be enough water for three people,” he said before he walked out and closed the door behind him.
I rolled my hair up into a bun before stepping into the bathtub. I didn’t need a shower cap since I was just pouring cupfuls of water from the bucket on myself. The first scoop of cold water over my shoulder made me jump and squeal a little. After a while I sort of got used to it. And it felt nice to lather Tía Chea’s perfumed soap on my sticky, sweaty skin. But still, I couldn’t stop thinking that my parents and little sisters were probably taking nice warm showers at Tía Nona’s house.
“Anamay, hurry up!” Gracie pounded on the door. “The rest of us have to bathe too.”
I reached into the bucket for another scoop. That’s when I noticed I had used more than half the water. I watched the soapy water slide outdoors through the hole in the corner of the bathtub. Was anyone standing out there? Could they see that I was hogging all the water?
“I’m sorry,” I said when I got out of the bathroom. “I think I used too much water.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Tía Chea said. “Juancito, go get some more water!”
Juancito ran outside. He didn’t seem to mind lugging another huge bucket of water to the house. But still, I would have to figure out this whole water thing if I was going to stay here a while. And it looked like I was.
***
Tío Pepe and the boys stayed to work on the farm, and Tía Chea took Muñeca, Gracie, and me to Tía Nona’s. “We have to put the party favors together,” Tía Chea said. “The more hands, the better. The wedding is less than a week away and we’re expecting a lot of guests.”
Mami, Abuelita, and Tía Nona were already working when we got there. Glue bottles, stickers, and little white bows were scattered on a picnic table underneath a shady tree that stretched above the house. A stack of boxes sat next to the table. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Tía Nona gave us long hugs. “Would you like some lemonade?”
“Absolutely,” Tía Chea said. “It’s going to be a hot one today.” She took off her sun hat and fanned herself with it.
Tía Nona turned to the door. “Cosita!” she called. “Cosita, come here!”
A skinny girl just a little taller than Rosie ran out of the house. Her bare feet were caked in dried mud and there were tiny holes all over the front of her sleeveless shirt. “Diga, doctora,” she said to Tía Nona.
“Bring out a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses.”
“Si, doctora.” Cosita ran back in the house.
Gracie and I looked at each other, then huddled close to Muñeca. “That little girl works here?” Gracie whispered.
“Yeah,” Muñeca said.
“Isn’t that kind of weird?” Gracie said. “I mean, she’s just a kid.”
Muñeca shrugged. “Some kids from really poor families have to work.”
“Okay, girls,” Tía Nona said. “Come see what we’re doing.” She reached inside one of the boxes and took out a tiny champagne bottle. “We take these out, grab a label” — she picked up a sheet of heart-shaped labels that said “María Antonia y Juan Miguel” and peeled one off — “and we stick it on the bottle.” She took her time and put the label on the very center of the bottle. “Then we take one of the bows and glue it on the neck of the bottle.” The bows had the wedding date printed in gold letters. Tía Nona squeezed a pearl of glue onto the middle of the bow and held it tightly against the bottle. She looked back up at us. “Okay?”
We all nodded.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so hot!” Tía Nona said. “Where is that girl? Cosita! Cosita!”
Cosita came out with a giant pitcher of lemonade.
“Oh, mamita, let me help you with that!” Mami said. She took the pitcher from Cosita.
“Where are the glasses?” Tía Nona glared at the girl.
“I’ll get them right now, doctora.”
Mami put the pitcher on the table. “This looks delicious,” she said.
“The glasses, Cosita!” Tía Nona yelled.
Cosita ran out the door with a stack of three glasses in each arm. She tripped and fell to her knees, but she held on to the glasses. Gracie and Muñeca ran over and helped her up.
“Well, at least you didn’t break anything this time.” Tía Nona snatched the glasses from Cosita and put them on the table. Then she turned back and looked at the blood trickling from the girl’s knobby knees. “Let’s clean you up before you get an infection.” She grabbed Cosita’s hand and yanked her up the steps and into the house.
“What’s gotten into Nona?” Abuelita said when Tía Nona was inside. “She’s being so cruel to that little girl.”
Tía Chea lowered her voice and leaned in close to Abuelita. “It’s that Juan Miguel,” she said. “He’s very sweet to Nona, but he and his family are terrible to their servants. I think it’s rubbing off on Nona.”
Abuelita shook her head. “I’m going to have a talk with her.”
“Oh, Mamá, don’t make any trouble,” Mami said. “Nona’s probably stressed because of the wedding.”
“Well, that’s no excuse,” Abuelita said.
“I agree with Mamá,” Tía Chea said. “Nona’s letting those people take over and change her. Can you believe the reception is at their house?”
Muñeca covered her face with her hands. “Oh no, not this again.”
“Well, it’s an insult!” Tía Chea said. “Nona has a family, and the bride’s family should host the wedding reception!”
“Calm down, Chea,” Mami said. “Nona explained the whole thing to me. Juan Miguel’s mother wanted the wedding at one of their hotels, but Nona said she had to be married in the church where she was baptized. And she got her way.”
“Yes, but why is the reception at their country house?” Sweat dripped down Tía Chea’s neck and onto her flowered T-shirt. “My house is just as close!”
“It’s too late to change that now,” Abuelita said. “But she can’t treat the help like that.”
“Who can’t treat the help like what?”
We all jumped. Where had Tía Nona come from? She glared at Abuelita. “Are you talking about me?”
“Of course we are! I’m ashame
d of you, Nona! I didn’t raise you to mistreat people, and you have been very rude to that poor little girl!”
Tía Nona walked over to the boxes of champagne bottles. “You have no idea what that girl has put me through, Mamá.” She took out a bottle and reached for the labels. “She’s broken half my things, she steals food, and the other day Juan Miguel’s mother and I were waiting for her to bring our coffee and she never came. I found her lying on my good couch sound asleep!” Tía Nona looked at Abuelita. “I’ve kept her on because I know her family needs the money, but I’m beginning to lose my patience. And I can’t believe my own family would talk about me behind my back!”
“Oh, Nona,” Mami said. “We’re sorry.” She put her arms around Tía Nona. “We shouldn’t have judged you. Right, Mamá?”
Abuelita crossed her arms and nodded like she didn’t really mean it. “Well, okay, fine,” she said. “We’re here to help, so let’s get to work.”
Gracie, Muñeca, and I looked at one another. I wasn’t sure whose side to take. I mean, maybe everything Tía Nona said about Cosita was true, and it seemed unfair for Abuelita and Tía Chea to gang up on her. But still, Cosita was just a kid, and she seemed to be doing the best she could. She didn’t deserve to be yelled at like that. But Tía Nona wouldn’t be unfair, would she?
“Hey, Tía Nona, I never knew your first name was María,” Gracie said as she pulled a bottle out of a box. That Gracie was pretty good at changing subjects.
Tía Nona smiled. “We’re all named María,” she said. “Chea is María Dorotea, and your mother is María Mercedes.”
“That’s right,” Abuelita said. “María is a blessed name, and I wanted all my girls to have it.” She looked at me. “I was so happy when your parents named you Ana María. Traditions are very important.”
“Speaking of names,” Tía Nona said, “do you have names picked out for the new baby, Mecho?”
Ana Maria Reyes Does Not Live in a Castle Page 10
