“HURRY UP, ANNA! Your father will be here any minute.” Antonia swatted me on the behind with the broom as she herded us kids out of the kitchen. “I need you to collect the clean sheets from the clothesline and take them to Rafael.”
My father was coming? I was eager to do anything for the father I only had vague recollections of seeing before. I scurried up the steps to the rooftop clothesline to retrieve the dark blue sheets, which were a little thin but in decent shape overall. The oppressive Mexican heat had barely cooled, though the sun had gone down over an hour before. I decided to surprise Antonia by making the bed in the back bedroom myself. I guessed that this would be where my father would be staying. When I was halfway through, Antonia entered the room.
“What are you doing?” Her screeching voice reverberated off the walls.
“Wh-what do you mean? I’m putting the clean sheets on the bed.” I stared at the floor, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.
“Did I tell you to do that?” Antonia stood over me, hands on her hips.
“No.”
“That’s because I don’t want those sheets on the bed. The ones that were on the bed were already clean. Take those darker ones back off, and give them to Rafael. He’s going to use them to cover the windows.”
“Why do we need to cover the —”
“Anna! Stop asking questions and do as I say. Do you hear me?” With that, Antonia left the room.
I turned back toward the bed and began stripping off the sheets, still not understanding why the windows needed to be covered.
Since my father rarely came to any house where my immediate family lived, having him visit was a special treat. Rafael took my siblings and me aside to remind us to always refer to our father as Tío (uncle), if anyone asked about him. Though I didn’t know it at the time, this was for my dad’s protection. He and his followers didn’t want to take the chance of him being recognized, since the police and FBI were always looking for him.
Excitement filled the house, as everyone anticipated a visit from our religious leader. We knew he was a very important man, with a growing flock of followers to consider. As a prophet called by God to lead his people, he constantly traveled to the various places his members and wives resided. None of my father’s wives or children were permitted to question the critical and secretive nature of his work or the spiritual call of God on his life. Still, every one of his visits energized each household as they prepared for his arrival. Antonia took care to make special foods, as Rafael took the sheets I gave him and hung them over the windows to hide my father’s presence from outsiders.
My father! I trembled with anticipation. Though I may have been around him at other times when I was younger or he might have slept in a house where I happened to live at the time, I couldn’t recall interacting with him at all, not even to greet him. What would he be like? Would he play with me? Would he even know who I was?
I did my best to stay awake, but I was fast asleep by the time he arrived. The next morning I woke up to the wonderful smell of fried steak and potatoes. I tiptoed to his bedroom, and peeking around the doorway, watched him eating breakfast at the writing desk in his room. He looked like a giant with his long arms and his long legs.
Antonia caught me peering at him and grabbed my arm. “Leave him alone and let him eat,” she hissed at me in Spanish. “And don’t expect to get any of this for breakfast.” I followed her to the kitchen and ate my refried beans wrapped in a tortilla.
Still, I soaked him up during his visit. I studied him —what he looked like, what he sounded like. It struck me that he was so tall that he had to duck his head to walk through a doorway.
One afternoon, I tiptoed into the room where he sat writing at a desk. I imagined he was busy drafting a sermon or a long letter to his congregants in the United States. I climbed up on the bed and sat watching him until late into the night. He never once acknowledged my presence. I knew I had to stay quiet so as not to be shooed out. He was handsome and had a deep, booming voice. His receding hairline left him with a significant forehead. His eyes were dark, and his brow was usually furrowed. He wore a size 13 shoe, proportionate to his 6′4″ height.
He spent most of his time either writing, reading his sermons out loud, or sitting still —deep in thought. I recall the studious way he hunched over the desk while he feverishly wrote in longhand, filling page after page of yellow legal pads. His words flowed continuously, and I could hear the pages turning at a regular pace as he filled each one. Those pages would be taken by one of his wives and typed out. The faster the typist you were, the more he liked having you around to transcribe his poor handwriting into readable pages.
Eventually, my tired body and heavy eyelids took over, and I fell asleep on the bed that on other occasions I wasn’t allowed to sleep on. I slept soundly in the comfort of the coveted bed. At some point during the darkness of night, I felt someone gently shaking my foot. It took several moments for me to fully awaken. And when I saw my father there, looking down at me, I could hardly believe my eyes.
“Do you know how to make coffee?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. I had never made coffee in my life. But my father had just spoken to me for the first time. I would do anything he asked.
“Would you mind making me some?” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled warmly at me. When he relaxed his cheeks once again, I could see lines of white on his tanned face. He looked so strong and regal and important. I was in awe of him. Being sent on this important mission felt like quite the honor. I knew I couldn’t let him down. I felt chosen and special to be able to serve him in this way.
“Sure.” I hurried to the kitchen to do his bidding. I stood in front of the stove and bit my lip. I’d watched others make coffee numerous times, so I imitated what they had done. I boiled a pot of water and added several teaspoons of Nescafé, the Mexican brand of instant coffee. Once the air filled with the aroma of coffee, I figured it must be done.