I THOUGHT IT WAS going to be a perfect day, that Wednesday before Thanksgiving.
But it didn’t turn out that way. Not perfect. No bueno. To begin with, no one wanted to be in school. You could feel it in the hallways. It felt like we were fire ants going crazy on a busy anthill. Or something like that. Sam would have laughed at me if she had been listening in on my thoughts. I was okay with words, but let’s just say I wasn’t going to grow up to be a writer.
What was I going to be? Maybe a boxer. Ha. Ha.
I decided I was going to wait out the day.
During lunch I went outside to get some air. I needed to breathe. Malaise. That’s what I was feeling. Malaise.
But just as I stepped outside, I saw Sam lost in a conversation with Eddie.
Really? She was talking to Eddie? It made me crazy to see them talking to each other as if nothing had happened.
They didn’t even notice when I walked up to them.
“Sam,” I said, “what in the hell are you doing?”
“I’m talking to Eddie,” she said softly. “And why are you yelling at me?”
“Because you’re talking to a guy who tried to hurt you.”
“Sally—”
I didn’t let her finish. “Sam, just walk away right now. Just walk back inside.”
That’s when Eddie decided to step into the conversation, “Look, Sal, we were just—”
“Say another word and I’ll beat the holy crap out of you, you son of a bitch.”
That’s when I felt Sam’s slap.
She slapped me so hard I fell back.
And then we just looked at each other.
“Who are you?” she whispered. “Who are you, Sally? Who are you?”
The rest of the day I could feel my cheek still burning.
Part Five
Highways are nice and paved, and they have signs telling you which way to go. Life isn’t like that at all.
Sam. Learning to Talk. Me.
I WAITED FOR SAM at her locker after school. I was scared, and I didn’t know what was happening between us. Things had never been this way, and I had this awful feeling in my gut. I saw her walking toward me, but she pretended not to see me. She completely ignored me as she opened her locker, pulled out a couple of books, and then slammed it shut.
“I’m not talking to you,” she said.
I had to say something. Anything. “I’m the one that got slapped in the face.”
“Maybe you needed it.”
“You were talking to Eddie. He hurt you. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“He was apologizing, you stupid shit. I was handling my own shit just fine, Sally.”
“Oh,” I said. God, there was this thing inside me, this thing that said I really was a stupid shit. I felt like an asshole. I mean, I wanted to hide somewhere, but there was no hiding. “Oh,” I said again.
“‘Oh.’ That’s what you have to say? That’s articulate.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I really am.” God, I sounded stupid.
“I don’t get you lately. You used to be really sweet.”
“Maybe I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were. But now you’re so inconsistent.”
“Well, you’re like that sometimes.”
“But you’re not me, Sally. And you did deserve that slap.” And then she smiled. “I see what you mean about hitting people. Sometimes it feels good.”
“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
“Well, we’re going to have to figure some things out, aren’t we, Sally?”
I nodded. I don’t know. I didn’t feel like using any words. I didn’t. But she was talking to me and maybe there was this little crack in what we had. We weren’t broken, though. And that was good. That we weren’t broken. I wanted to hug her, but I had the feeling that Sam wasn’t quite ready for a hug.
Thanksgiving
WHEN FITO HANDED Mima the flowers he’d brought her, Mima’s face really lit up. “Beautiful,” she whispered. Sometimes Mima looked like a little girl. Even now. Innocent. And Fito, his face was all red, and he just wanted to find someplace to hide. I mean, that guy was super shy.
Aunt Evie took the flowers and put them in a vase. She looked at Fito and said, “So sweet, Fito.”
“Sweet? Not,” Fito whispered.
Mima put her hand on Fito’s cheek. “You’re too skinny. You need to eat.”
“I eat.”
“Well, you have to eat more.”
“Mima,” I said, “he eats all the time.”
Mima nodded. “When he gets old, he’ll be fat. Just like Popo. Popo was skinny too. But then he married me.” Her laugh was as fragile as the leaves she had raked when I was five.
Everyone was busy doing something in Mima’s kitchen. All the voices seemed to mix together, the voices of my uncles and aunts and some of my older cousins who had made it back home for a few days, Sam’s voice, Fito’s voice. And Mima’s voice. Her fading voice was the one I heard the loudest.
I asked my dad for the keys to the car. I needed cough drops and knew some were stashed in there. I wasn’t feeling so hot, and I was afraid I was catching a cold, which was bad news because when I caught a cold, I caught a cold. Bad news. No bueno. My throat was beginning to swell. I knew what that meant, and I was thinking, Shit shit shit! As I walked to the car, I heard my Uncle Tony and my Aunt Evie talking as they sat on the front porch. I had become a chronic eavesdropper. “It’s the old girl’s last Thanksgiving, Evie.”
“Don’t talk like that, Tony.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“We’re going to miss that woman. She’s something special.”
“Yeah, Evie. We’re all gonna miss her. We really have to make ourselves strong.”
“I know, Tony.”
“We can do this, Evie.”
“Well, we don’t have a choice, do we?” Aunt Evie was quiet for a little while, and then she said, “You know what I think? I think Mickey’s gonna take it the hardest.”
“Maybe so,” Uncle Tony said. “But I think Vicente’s gonna take it the hardest. Only he won’t show it.”
And then I heard Aunt Evie say, “Actually, I think Salvador’s gonna take it the hardest. He and Mom have something special. I still remember the day Vicente brought him over for the first time. Mom fell in love with that boy the minute she took him in her arms. It’s beautiful to watch them together. I think the kid’s gonna be devastated.”
Then I heard Uncle Tony say, “Maybe so, Evie. Maybe so.”
I told myself not to think too much about that conversation and just enjoy the beauty of the family I was so lucky to have. If it was going to be Mima’s last Thanksgiving, I was going to make the best of it.
I walked past the front porch from the side of the house where I’d been listening. I waved at my uncle and aunt as I went to the car and found the cough drops on the driver’s side. Dad kept them for what was becoming a smoker’s cough. No bueno. I popped one in my mouth, then walked toward the front porch. I smiled at Aunt Evie and hugged her.
Uncle Tony slapped me on the back. “You’re a good kid.”
I made a joke. “Not that you’d know.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass.”
We were making pies. Well, I wasn’t doing any making. It was really just my dad. And Uncle Julian. They’re, like, this team. They look alike. I sat next to Mima as Dad rolled out the dough.
Mima nodded. “I showed him,” she said.