“Sure,” Papi said, “but I didn’t know you were interested in the harmonica.”
“It’s not for me. I want to send it to Clarisa, so she can have her own musical instrument.”
Papi smiled. “That’s a great idea.” The price of the harmonica and the cost of shipping added up to about half of my birthday money. The rest went into my college fund, as always. Sending the harmonica to Clarisa was my birthday present to myself. I hoped she liked it too.
Chapter 39
Over the next few weeks, our house felt like a restaurant, with all the people in the neighborhood as our chefs and waiters. Chichi made up a calendar and people signed up to help us. Mrs. Jiménez took over our kitchen on Mondays and Thursdays, when she made so much food that Mami, Rosie, and Connie ate the leftovers for lunch the next day. Chichi and Lydia took turns on Wednesdays and Fridays, and a different person from church would bring over a casserole each Tuesday. Ruben and Mrs. Rivera took care of weekends. Claudia’s parents sent us giant boxes of fruit once a week. Sometimes someone who wasn’t even on the calendar would show up with dessert or a loaf of bread, a carton of orange juice, or some milk and eggs, just because they were nearby and thinking of us. We had to invite people to join us for meals because we had way too much food to finish on our own.
Not all of our helpers cooked. Millie showed up super early one Saturday morning without Max or the baby. “They’re still asleep,” she said. Her eyes were red and had puffy, gray half-moons underneath them. “Let’s get to work.” Millie emptied the laundry hampers into Mami’s shopping cart. She took the sheets off our beds and squished them on top of the clothes. Gracie grabbed the detergent and the quarters, and they did our laundry together.
Sarita and Lucy also came over that day. Lucy’s baby wore a little crocheted hat Mami had made for him. “Oh, how adorable!” Mami said. She sat on the couch with her feet up. “May I hold him?” Lucy handed him over.
“This is from Doña Dulce,” Sarita said. She gave Papi a big round plastic container. “It’s black beans. Her specialty, she says.”
Papi thanked her. “We’ll call Doña Dulce later,” he said. “Where are the boys?”
“Believe it or not, they’re with Doña Dulce,” Lucy said. “We hope they don’t destroy her house.”
“Or drive her crazy,” Sarita said.
“Or both!”
Sarita and Lucy helped us clean. Lucy did the bathroom, while Sarita and I vacuumed and dusted. Then Rosie asked Sarita to play something on the piano for her.
“Don’t bother Sarita with that,” I said. “I can play for you.”
“But I want to hear Sarita play!”
“Fine,” I said. But it wasn’t fine. Why wasn’t my playing good enough for my sister?
“I’ll just play a short minuet by Bach,” Sarita said. “Lucy has to put the baby down for a nap soon.”
Lucy’s baby must have heard that, because he started to cry and wouldn’t stop.
“Oh well,” I said. “I guess you have to go now. You can play for us another time.”
“No, Sarita, go ahead and play,” Mami said. “Let’s take the baby to my room, Lucy.”
Connie followed Mami and Lucy to the bedroom. Papi had gone to the drugstore, and Gracie was still in the laundry room with Millie, so it was just Rosie and me watching Sarita play. I hardly ever got a quiet moment to practice, and now my one chance was being hogged by Sarita.
Sarita sat down at the piano and started to play Minuet in G Major. I recognized the piece right away because I had learned it a while ago and had played it many times before. But, as always, Sarita’s version sounded different. Better. So much better. And, as always, I couldn’t breathe or move while she played.
Rosie clapped when Sarita finished. Sarita looked over at her and smiled. There were tears in Sarita’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Sarita nodded. “Bach always reminds me of my mother. He was just a little kid when his mother died.”
Rosie’s eyes opened wide. “Did your mother die too?”
“Rosie!” I said. “It’s not polite to ask such a personal question.”
“It’s okay,” Sarita said. “You’re my friends.”
I had never thought of Sarita as a friend before, probably because the only time I ever saw her was on Tuesday afternoons. And sometimes I didn’t even see her, I only heard her playing.
Sarita pulled at a loose thread hanging from her jeans. “My mother didn’t die. She loves us. I know she does. She can’t help it that she’s addicted to drugs.” She looked at me like she expected me to say something mean about her mom, like she was ready to defend her if I did. A lot of people probably criticized Sarita’s mom, but I knew better. Sometimes family members can have problems — like Tío Lalo — but that doesn’t mean you stop loving one another.
Sarita looked back at the piece of thread between her fingers. “Papi kicked her out last year. He changed the locks and everything. All because we came home one day and the house was empty. She had sold everything for drug money. Even my little brothers’ shoes.”
Rosie’s mouth hung open. I hoped she wouldn’t say anything rude.
“Sometimes she comes over and begs us to let her in so she can shower and take a nap. But Papi won’t let her! I know she loves me! I know she does.” Sarita yanked at the thread and ripped it in two.
What would it be like to have a mother who didn’t take care of you? I couldn’t imagine what Sarita was feeling. I couldn’t imagine what she felt every day. I sat on the piano bench next to Sarita and put my arms around her. My friend leaned her head on my shoulder and sobbed.
Chapter 40
Two weeks after the accident, Rosie’s dance teacher came to visit. She brought a bouquet of pink and white carnations. In the very center of the flowers, hovering above them, was a plastic ballerina with her leg extended behind her in an arabesque. “These are from the whole class,” she said to Rosie. “We all miss you so much!”
“How sweet!” Mami said from her seat on the couch.
“Thank you, Mrs. Santana!” Rosie said. It was good to see her smile. Ever since the accident, she was itching to get up, run, and dance. She was so bored that she didn’t even complain about doing the homework her teacher emailed to Papi each day. “I miss everybody too,” she said, “so, so much!”
“And that’s not all the class got for you,” Mrs. Santana said. She handed Rosie a long brown envelope. “It’s for you and your family.”
Rosie peeked inside the envelope and pulled out several slips of paper. Her eyes opened wide as she read the top one. “A ticket to The Nutcracker?”
Mrs. Santana nodded. “Five of them,” she said. She looked at Mami. “I hope that’s okay; it’s in a few weeks and I assumed you wouldn’t be able to go.”
“You assumed right,” Mami said. “Besides, this is beyond generous! How can we thank you?”
“Just get better and come back to class,” Mrs. Santana said to Rosie. Rosie hugged her teacher and then waved her arms up in the air. She had been doing that a lot lately. Her arm dance.
***
Mami was knitting all the time now that she was on bed rest. She was just as restless as Rosie. “I can’t believe I have to stay in bed until the baby comes,” she said. “That’s more than a month away!” Abuelita came over every day to take care of Mami, Rosie, and Connie while Papi, Gracie, and I were gone. I didn’t know what they talked about while I was at school, but I never heard my grandmother mention Tío Lalo. I sort of wanted to ask about him, but I thought that might upset Mami. I knew he wasn’t in jail because Claudia told me her mom helped him avoid jail time. Instead he had to pay a fine, do community service, and go to rehab. Claudia didn’t know if it was all working out, though, and I hoped it was. I was still mad at him, but I missed how happy Abuelita seemed when he was around. She had alway
s said that a tight-knit family is the most important thing in the world. It was probably tough for her to see one of her kids not talking to another one. But she never brought up his name.
Rosie finally went back to school the Monday before Thanksgiving. “Look, everybody signed my cast!” she said when she got home. “And I get to use the elevator, and one of my friends can come with me to carry my books, and everyone was fighting over who got to help me!”
Mami laughed. “It sounds like you had a good day,” she said.
Chichi didn’t put Thanksgiving on the calendar of helpers. She and Lydia came over early that day with a turkey, string beans, and mashed potatoes with gravy. Abuelita and her friend Doña Paula were already in our kitchen cooking pernil, yucca, rice, and beans. “Dominican-style Thanksgiving,” Abuelita called it.
The intercom buzzed all day, and everyone who arrived stayed to eat. Mr. and Mrs. Jiménez showed up with another turkey and a small plastic grocery bag. “I’m going to whip up a flan,” Mrs. Jiménez said. She handed the baby to her husband and headed for the kitchen.
“Can I help, Mrs. Jiménez?” Rosie was sitting on the love seat complaining about being bored every few minutes.
“Of course, sweetie,” Mrs. Jiménez said.
Rosie leaned on me and hobbled to the dining room table. We set her up with a big bowl, a whisk, and half a dozen eggs.
Mrs. Rivera and Ruben brought a plantain-and-ground-beef casserole. “Mmm, my favorite,” I said.
“Me too!” Ruben pointed at himself.
Pedro slinked in behind his mom. He carried a giant pan of sweet potatoes. Papi shook Pedro’s hand. “Welcome back, young man. And stay out of my daughter’s room.” Papi grinned when he said that, so Pedro laughed. But he didn’t go anywhere near our room. Gracie smiled all day anyway.
Even Claudia and her parents came. “We brought pies!” Claudia said. There were six of them: apple, pumpkin, and sweet potato. Two of each.
“We figured there would be a big crowd here,” Claudia’s dad said. “We know how Gustavo Reyes loves to party!”
Papi laughed and slapped Claudia’s dad on the back, then pulled him in for a hug.
I helped Mami get dressed. “It sounds like a party out there,” she said to me.
“Oh, it is.”
I held Mami’s hand as we walked down the hallway to the living room. She put her hands over her mouth when she saw everyone and all the food. “I should get sick more often!” she said.
We all laughed and dug in.
***
When I woke up the day after Thanksgiving, I heard muffled voices through the wall next to my bed. I put my hand under my pillow and felt around for my glasses case. When I could see clearly, I looked around. Rosie and Connie were sound asleep, but Gracie’s bed was empty. I climbed down from my bunk and stepped out into the hallway.
Gracie’s voice was loud and clear behind my parents’ closed door. “I can finish it,” she said. “I’m sure I can.”
“No, mi amor,” Mami said. “There’s still a lot to do, with very little time, and the zipper is especially tricky.”
“So what are you saying?” Gracie’s voice got high and shrieky. “That we’re not even going to try? That Anamay’s not getting her dress?”
“I’m saying that if you make a mistake there won’t be any turning back.”
Gracie threw the door open and plowed right into me. We stared at each other for a second, then she marched past me and down the hallway. I turned to walk away. I didn’t want Mami to think I was spying on them.
Too late. “Ana María, come in here please.” Papi held the door open.
I stepped inside.
“You probably heard me and Gracie,” Mami said.
I nodded. I couldn’t show up at Lincoln Center in one of my church dresses. The Eleanor School wouldn’t want someone who didn’t even know what to wear to perform at a concert. So I couldn’t go. No big deal, I told myself. The important thing was that Mami and the baby were well. Mami wasn’t ready to get up and sew, and I understood that. After all, it was just a recital. And maybe my application and exam score were so good that I could get a full scholarship anyway. I really believed all these things, but still, my throat felt dry and I had to blink again and again to keep the moisture inside my eyes.
“As you know,” Papi said, “your mother has not been able to sew all month.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “I know you’ve had your heart set on wearing that beautiful dress to the recital, but I think we’re going to have to buy you another one.”
I looked at Papi, then at Mami. “Wait, what? You’re going to buy me a new dress?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, mamita. It won’t be as nice as the one we were making for you, but there’s no other choice.”
Were they kidding? This was wonderful news. “But how can we afford it?” I asked.
“We’ll put it on the credit card,” Papi said.
“Isn’t that just for emergencies?”
Mami and Papi looked at each other and smiled. “Anamay,” Mami said. “This is an emergency.”
I tried not to smile too big. After all, I was supposed to be upset. But I was so happy I wanted to squeal and run around the house. “So . . . when will we get this dress?”
“Sometime this weekend,” Papi said. “We can bring Altagracia with us. She’ll help you pick out something nice.”
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of Gracie coming along, but it didn’t really matter. I was getting a new dress, so now I was definitely going to Lincoln Center!
***
Lydia and Chichi didn’t sell formal gowns, but Gracie did some research online and said Macy’s had some nice, affordable choices. So she, Papi, and I took the subway downtown the next day.
I tried on six dresses. One was over the price limit Papi gave us, but Gracie snuck it into the fitting room anyway. “Maybe when Papi sees how good it looks, he’ll say to heck with that limit,” she said. But it didn’t look that good. We picked out a dark green velvety dress with rhinestones on the waist and neckline. “Very Christmassy,” Gracie said. “I approve. Now you need shoes.”
Papi said he hadn’t planned on buying shoes too.
“You don’t expect her to go barefoot, do you?” Gracie said. “I mean, you would have bought her shoes anyway, right?”
Papi closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “All right, let’s go to the shoe store.”
Having Gracie around wasn’t so bad after all.
Chapter 41
Abuelita joined us for dinner the night before The Nutcracker. “What time should we leave tomorrow?” Gracie asked Papi.
Papi rubbed his chin. “Let’s see, it starts at three so we should try to get there by two thirty. On a Saturday afternoon, there might be a wait for the train . . .”
“Is it okay if Abuelita goes instead of me?” I said.
My whole family stared at me. Rosie spoke first. “Why?”
“Because . . .” I looked at my plate and poked the rice with my fork. How could I explain this? “I’m really nervous about the recital. It’s only two weeks away, and I’m still not ready!” I put my fork down and sat back. “It’s really nice that everyone is helping us with stuff. But there are always people here and it’s hard to concentrate when I play the piano. If I stay here instead of going to the ballet, I can practice.”
“Well . . .” Mami looked at Papi. He shrugged. “If that’s what you really want.”
“But I’ve heard you play that piece a million times,” Gracie said. “It’s perfect!”
“No, it’s not,” I said. “Doña Dulce says it still needs work.” I knew my piano teacher was right. Sometimes when I played “Meine Freuden” I had to look at the music and double-check the notes. That was definitely not good enough for
a recital. I was determined to get it just right.
“All right, then it’s settled. Your abuela will go in your place.” Papi looked at Abuelita. “Is that okay with you?”
Abuelita clapped a hundred times. “I’ve never been to a ballet before!” She stood up, grabbed my face with both hands, and planted a sloppy kiss on my forehead.
Mami chuckled. “I guess that’s a yes.” She leaned forward and wiped the lipstick off my forehead with her napkin.
***
After everyone left for the ballet the next day, Mami went to her room to lie down. I sat at the piano, closed my eyes, and played. If I could play my piece perfectly without looking at the keys, maybe I would be ready.
After practicing for about an hour, I still kept messing up in the same spot. I stopped and looked through the sheet music to study the passage again.
A weird grunting sound cut through the sudden silence. What was that? It sounded like an angry dog or even a tiger or something. I turned my head sideways and leaned my ear toward the hallway. The animal was growling. Was it in the bedroom with Mami? Was it attacking her? I dropped the papers and ran down the hallway. The growling got louder. I burst into Mami’s room.
But there was no animal there, just Mami. The noises were coming from her. She was on the bed on her hands and knees, and her eyes were closed. She let out a long, deep moan. I tiptoed toward her. “Mami?”
Mami lifted her head and looked at me. Her nose and cheeks were covered with tiny moist beads. “I think the baby’s coming soon.” She sucked in a deep breath and let out another animal moan.
“Now?” I said. “But the baby’s not due for another three weeks.”
Mami rested her head on her arms. Her chest heaved like she had just run a marathon.
I realized there was no point in arguing with Mami about this. I couldn’t stop whatever was happening. And it was 3:10, so the show had already started, and Papi had surely turned off his phone. I went into the kitchen and found the phone number for Mami’s doctor on the refrigerator.
Ana Maria Reyes Does Not Live in a Castle Page 17
