Papi stopped pacing.
“It was an accident. I wanted to see what was inside, but I had said I didn’t care so I couldn’t say I wanted to know, and I thought I could just steam it open real fast and then I put it too close to the fire and before I knew it, it was up in flames!” I took a deep breath.
Papi shook his head. “You forgot to close my desk drawer, and the doctor’s envelope had her return address on it.”
“So . . .” I said. “You knew already?”
“We knew something fishy had happened, but we didn’t realize you had played with fire. That was very dangerous.” Papi frowned. “I expect better from you. Your mother and I will have to talk about this.”
I lowered my eyes and mumbled, “Sorry.”
A voice on the loudspeaker paged a doctor, again and again. When it stopped, Papi put an arm around my shoulder. “Look, the important thing is that you and your other sisters are fine, and that Rosalba will bounce back in no time. You did a good job keeping Consuelo safe, but accidents happen. This isn’t your fault, you understand?”
I looked at Papi and nodded.
“Come on, let’s go back to the others,” he said.
***
Chaos had taken over the waiting area. Abuelita was making the sign of the cross and saying, “Ay, Virgencita, por favor ayúdela!” Then I heard Connie. “Mami! Mami!” she shrieked. Three people in scrubs were bent over someone — Mami! Papi sprinted over to her.
“Stand back please, sir,” one of the medical people said. They lifted Mami into a wheelchair. She was awake, but her eyes were half closed and her head was wobbly. Papi followed as they wheeled her away.
“What happened?” I asked Gracie.
“Mami came out here to get Papi and then she fainted,” Gracie said.
“Oh.” I sat down.
Connie climbed onto my lap. “Is Mami okay?”
What could I say? I had no idea.
“It’s all this worrying,” Abuelita said. She walked back and forth and threw her arms up in the air. “When a pregnant woman worries, she loses the baby. Ay, Dios mío!” She sat down and took her rosary out of her purse. Then she closed her eyes and prayed.
Was Abuelita right? Would Mami lose the baby? And what about Rosie? I had just wished for some kids in my family to disappear. Would that wish come true? How could I have thought such a thing? Maybe Gracie was right about me. I was an awful person, and this was all my fault.
Chapter 37
Mami had to stay in the hospital overnight so the doctors could keep an eye on her blood pressure, which was super high. Papi stayed too, so Abuelita took us home. She made dinner and put Connie to bed. Then she turned to Gracie and me. “Can I trust the two of you to stay here alone tonight without killing each other?” she asked.
Gracie and I glanced at each other, then hung our heads. “Yes,” we muttered.
“Good. I have some things to take care of at my house, but if you need anything, just call and I’ll come right up.”
Gracie and I didn’t talk all evening. I glued together the clay figurine Rosie had broken earlier in the day, while Gracie texted with I didn’t know who. We were careful not to bump into each other while we cleaned up the kitchen, and we took turns in the bathroom without fighting about it.
I couldn’t sleep. I lay on my back and listened to Gracie toss and turn above me and to Connie snoring in her new bed beside me. I remembered Rosie’s first night in her top bunk. She had been so fidgety that Gracie kept shushing her and telling her to be still. How would Rosie get up there now?
I pulled out my glasses and put them on, then I got out of bed and stripped off the sheets. Gracie lifted herself up onto her elbows and watched me. When I reached for Rosie’s sheets, Gracie got down and helped me. After my sheets were on Rosie’s top bunk, and Rosie’s were on my bottom bunk, I climbed up into my new bed and lay down.
“I’m sorry for telling about the envelope,” Gracie said.
“It’s okay,” I said. “They already knew.”
“What? How?”
“They had figured it out. Our parents aren’t as dumb as they look.”
Gracie giggled. “Also, I’m sorry for ditching you with Rosie and Connie,” she said.
“Well, we should have been more patient. I know you don’t get to see Vicky and Rebecca now that you’re in that new school.”
“Thanks, but I shouldn’t have left you.” We were quiet for a little while. “Do you think Mami and Rosie will be okay?” Gracie said. I could hear the fear in her voice. It was the same fear I was feeling.
“Yes, of course,” I said. I had to believe that. I just had to.
***
When I woke up the next morning, I thought: This is the worst birthday ever. I could hear Abuelita in the kitchen making breakfast, so I went to see if she had any news about Mami and Rosie. “Your father called,” she said to me. “He said you can stay home from school today, but make sure you go to your piano lesson.” Gracie already had the day off because it was All Saints’ Day. Usually, I would rather go to school than sit around at home, but I hadn’t slept well the night before, so I took a long nap after breakfast.
That afternoon I walked to Doña Dulce’s house with my head down. I sat at the piano and started with scales. I had practiced my recital piece every day that week, and I had been sure Doña Dulce would be super happy with my progress. But I kept messing up.
“What’s the matter, Anamay?” Doña Dulce said. “Your head doesn’t seem to be in it today.”
I took my hands off the piano and put them on my lap. “Mami and Rosie are in the hospital,” I said.
“Oh my goodness, what happened?”
“Rosie was hit by a car yesterday, and she has a concussion, a broken leg, and two fractured ribs.” I kept my eyes on my hands. I didn’t want Doña Dulce to see the tears rolling down my cheeks. “And Papi said Mami has high blood pressure, so they kept her in the hospital overnight for observation, but Abuelita says she might lose the baby.” And it’s all my fault.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry!” Doña Dulce reached over and pulled me toward her.
Someone behind us cleared their throat. It was Sarita. “Anamay, is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes,” Doña Dulce said. “Tell us how we can help.”
I shrugged. What could anyone do? My family and I just had to deal with this on our own.
***
When I got back from my piano lesson, Connie raced down the hall and into the living room to greet me. “Mami and Rosie are home!” she said. She jumped up and down.
I looked at Papi. “Really?”
Papi nodded. “Like I told your sisters, your mother is on bed rest until the doctor says otherwise, so don’t bother her. But” — he pointed at me — “she wants to see you now.”
I ran down the hall to Mami’s room. Mami was in bed. “Look,” I said. “I fixed this for you.” I held up the repaired clay figurine.
“Ay, gracias, mi amor.” Mami reached for the figurine and examined the braid. “It’s perfect.” She put the figurine on her night table. “Now, open that top drawer.” She pointed at her dresser.
I opened the drawer and looked inside. A box wrapped in paper with balloons all over it was on top. “Is this for me?” I said.
Mami laughed. “Of course it’s for you. Happy birthday, mamita.”
I thought everyone had forgotten about my birthday. But I should have known Mami would never forget. I took out the gift and unwrapped it. Inside was a sparkly red headband.
“It’s for you to wear to Lincoln Center,” Mami said.
“It’s beautiful.” I blinked back my tears. “Thank you, Mami.” I gave her a hug. “I’m sorry I got mad at you last week,” I said. “I promise I won’t upset you anymore, so you don’t get sick again.”
�
��Ay, Anamay, this isn’t your fault.” Mami held me close. “Sometimes these things happen with pregnancies, especially when a woman is a little older.”
That was a relief. Sort of. “So, something might still go wrong?” I asked.
“Well, something can always go wrong,” Mami said. “That’s just life. But we’re going to follow the doctor’s instructions and everything will probably be fine.”
I nodded. That made sense. “It’s okay if you don’t come to Lincoln Center,” I said. “I know you don’t like piano recitals.”
Mami looked at me and crinkled her eyebrows together. “Why would you think that?”
I shrugged. “You just don’t seem to like my piano playing very much. I mean, you always leave the room when I practice. But that’s okay.”
“Anamay, I love hearing you play! I don’t stay to listen because I need to take your little sisters away so they won’t bother you.”
Hmm. That made sense. Maybe instead of being mad at Mami for hanging out with my sisters, I should have been thanking her for helping me concentrate on my practicing.
Mami reached up and stroked my cheek. “I know we don’t do a lot together, and it makes me a little sad to know that I can’t teach you anything. I don’t know anything about music, and my English isn’t good enough to read all those books you like.” Her eyes teared up. “You’re so smart and independent. I want to be there for you if you need me, but I feel like you’ve outgrown me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had always thought Mami just didn’t like spending time with me. “I’ll never outgrow you,” I said. “And there are lots of things I want you to teach me.”
Mami sat up straighter and smiled. “Really? Like what?”
“Like how to read that Spanish book Tía Nona gave me. It’s really hard and there are a bunch of words I don’t understand.”
“I’ve always wanted to read Don Quixote,” Mami said. “I’d love to help you with it.”
Mami and I were hugging again when Papi walked in holding a wrapped gift and a large yellow envelope.
“Happy birthday, Ana María.” Papi handed me the present and envelope. I unwrapped the package. It was a Chopin and Liszt CD. “Your recital song is on there. Of course, it doesn’t sound as good as when you play it.”
I laughed and thanked my father. Then I opened the envelope. Inside was a card from Tía Nona with a check for fifty dollars. There were also a few sheets of piano music with the title “Quisqueyanos Valientes.”
“Oh, that’s the Dominican national anthem,” Mami said. There was a note stapled on top. In big letters, someone had written: You can play this the next time we’re together. From, CLARISA.
“That’s nice of her,” Papi said, looking over my shoulder. It was nice. And I was super glad she wasn’t mad at me anymore.
I turned back to Papi. “I just told Mami this, but it’s okay if the two of you can’t go to the Lincoln Center recital,” I said. “I know you want to, but if the baby comes that day, that’s not your fault. And Doña Dulce said the showcase people will sell a DVD of the show if we want to get that.”
“Oh, we should buy the DVD no matter what,” Mami said. “I want to have that memory forever.”
“Absolutely!” Papi said. “Now, it’s time for your mother to rest.”
I left my parents and went into my room to hang out with Rosie. She was lying on my old bed. One of her cheeks was bruised, and her left leg was in a bright blue cast. She was holding an ice pack against her chest. I wanted to hug her, but I was afraid I might hurt her. “How do you feel?” I asked.
“I can’t watch TV!” Rosie said. “Or read or use a computer. All because of this stupid concussion!” It was good to see her pout and hear her complain. She might be a little battered, but she was still the same old Rosie.
“What can you do?” I said.
“Just listen to stuff. Like music and other people reading.”
“I can play the piano for you and read to you.”
Rosie smiled. “Yeah! Will you read to me now?”
The buzzer sounded. When Papi opened the apartment door, Rosie and I heard Chichi’s voice in the living room. “Here’s a lasagna for your dinner tonight,” she said.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Papi said.
“Of course I should!” Chichi said. “And Lydia’s making you something tomorrow. So don’t worry about a thing; we’ll take care of you just like you and Mecho have always taken care of us.”
Gracie and I ate in our room with Rosie, and Papi and Connie kept Mami company. After dinner, Papi and Gracie cleaned up the kitchen while I read to Rosie. Connie would not leave Mami’s side. I had been reading for about an hour when Papi rolled in his desk chair. “Your mother wants to spend a little time with you girls,” he said. Mami leaned on Papi as she walked in the room and sat down on the chair. Connie curled up next to me on the floor and giggled with her hand over her mouth.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Connie said.
I looked up and saw Gracie in the doorway holding a plate of cupcakes. The middle cupcake had a candle in it. She walked in and my family sang “Happy Birthday” to me. This was the happiest I had ever felt on my birthday. We were all together, and just that morning I had wondered if we ever would be again. I closed my eyes and made a wish. Then I blew out the candle.
Chapter 38
Papi stayed home from work the rest of the week. “You need some help,” Gracie told him on the first day. “I’ll stay home too.”
“Absolutely not,” Papi said. “We’ll be fine. Go to school.”
“But — ”
“No buts! Go.”
Gracie huffed all the way back to our room.
“Do you have a test or something today?” I asked.
“No,” Gracie said. She slipped on her uniform skirt. “Why?”
“I’m just wondering why you don’t want to go to school.”
“Because Papi obviously needs us!”
“Abuelita said she’d come over later. Besides, Mami will worry if we don’t go to school, so the best thing we can do for her is go.”
Gracie finished dressing and picked up her backpack. “You just say that because you’re a nerd and you love school,” she said.
I looked at Gracie for a few seconds, then I got up and went to the bathroom. I didn’t want to argue with her anymore.
***
Tío Lalo was in our living room when I got home that afternoon. Abuelita must have told him to clean himself up before coming over. He looked like a wet puppy with his hair slicked back and his big sad eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tavito,” he said to Papi. “I promise I will never, ever, ever drink again.”
Papi snorted. “Just don’t drive when you drink, okay?”
Tío Lalo nodded like a bobblehead doll.
Papi handed him a business card. “This is the best criminal lawyer I know,” he said. “She’s usually very expensive, but she’ll help you for free as a favor to Mecho and me.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” Tío Lalo said. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
Papi opened the apartment door. “I need to give Mecho her medicine now.”
“Oh . . . can I see her? I want to apologize.”
“No, she doesn’t want to see you right now.” Papi opened the door a little wider.
“Oh.” Tío Lalo gulped. His Adam’s apple moved up and back down. He turned back to Papi like he just had a great idea. “Can I say hello to Rosita? I can cheer her up. You know I always make her laugh!”
“Laughing isn’t a good idea right now. With her broken ribs, that just causes more pain.”
Tío Lalo looked at me. I shrugged. “Okay, well, I’ll see all of you later, then,” Tío Lalo said. “Give my love to Mecho and the rest of the girls.” He waved
the business card in his hand. “And thanks again.”
“Is that Claudia’s mom’s card?” I asked Papi after he closed the door behind Tío Lalo.
“Yes.”
“Did Mami really say she doesn’t want to see Tío Lalo?”
“She did.” Papi walked into the kitchen.
I followed him. “Wow, does Abuelita know?”
Papi took two glasses out of the cupboard. He chuckled. “She does. Could you take the orange juice out, please? Your mother is so mad at Lalo she practically hisses if anyone mentions his name.” Papi poured juice into the glasses and handed me a bottle of pills, a bottle of liquid medicine, and a spoon. “Here, take these back to our room.” He picked up the two glasses of orange juice and walked behind me. “I think your grandmother is afraid of her now.”
Rosie and Connie were in bed with Mami. Papi handed one glass to Mami and one to Rosie. He gave Mami her pills and fed a spoonful of medicine to Rosie. “Okay, Rosalba, it’s three o’clock now,” Papi said. “You know what that means.”
“Do I have to?” Rosie said.
“Yes, you do.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“I know, but remember what the doctor said, right?” Papi took Rosie’s hand and squeezed it. “If you don’t take a deep breath once an hour, you might get pneumonia or a collapsed lung.”
“But it hurts!”
“Come on, mamita,” Mami said. “It’s for your own good.”
Rosie sat up and gulped in a mouthful of air. She closed her eyes and whimpered while she breathed out. Connie buried her face in Mami’s chest and cried. I blinked hard and turned my head away.
“Good girl,” Papi said.
Mami smoothed down Rosie’s hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?”
Rosie pouted. “Can you play something for me, Anamay?”
Papi carried Rosie into the living room and settled her onto the couch. I played the piano until she fell asleep. Then I went to ask Papi for a favor. “Could you order this for me?” I showed him a picture of a harmonica on the computer. “I’ll use my birthday money from Tía Nona.”
Ana Maria Reyes Does Not Live in a Castle Page 16
