The Other Side of the River, page 11
Our walk to the stand remained silent except for the times Camila uttered a few words here and there. Lost in thought, I kept to myself until Camila stopped in her tracks. We were a stone’s throw away from the stand.
“What time is it?” said Camila.
I whipped my head back to the clock on the street corner, fearing we were late.
“We’re not late,” I said.
“Then why is everything set up already?”
My heart pounded. “Did Doña Carmen ask us to come earlier?”
Camila shook her head as we approached the stand. Tables, benches, and chairs had already been arranged. A young boy I’d never seen before assembled the crystal glasses into pyramids.
“I better run to the back,” I said to Camila. “I need to make sure we’re all stocked up.”
Camila nodded as she tied the apron strings behind her waist and headed straight toward Doña Carmen.
I reached the line of barrels in the back. All of them—the corn, the rice, the flour, and the beans—were full. Next, I opened the tall tin box of coffee, and it too had been topped off. Someone had already done my job.
My eyes scanned the stand, looking for Doña Carmen, and when I spotted her, I saw Camila standing in front of her. Camila shook her head repeatedly and motioned with her arms, pointing at herself, as if she were trying to convince the queen of something. Doña Carmen stood firm with her arms crossed. The look on her face was of annoyance.
I’d seen that look before. She often gave it when she was terminating someone. My heart sank. Was the queen dismissing Camila?
I rushed toward them, hoping to change Doña Carmen’s mind in time. I was sure Doña Carmen would listen to me.
Doña Carmen noticed me and motioned her head to let Camila know I was approaching.
Camila turned to me. Her face was pale and worrisome. I could tell she wanted to say something.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Camila pursed her lips, but before she could speak, Doña Carmen snapped at her, “Camila, go do as I say, or you’ll be next.”
Camila shut her eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. She glanced at Doña Carmen and then at me before walking away. My eyes followed her as she reached a group of customers who had just seated themselves.
I looked at Doña Carmen. “What do you mean she’ll be next?”
“Petra,” said Doña Carmen, but before speaking any further, she reached into her apron, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. She took a long drag while observing me. After releasing a cloud of smoke to the side, she said, “I won’t be needing you anymore.”
Her words dropped on my head like a bolt of thunder. My eyes glanced at the stand, the storefronts, at the darkening sky, and at the people placing their food orders with Camila. I wanted to convince myself that I’d misunderstood. “You mean you don’t need me to run any more errands, right? Or take orders from customers?”
Doña Carmen shook her head, puffing her cigarette once more. “You’re done working for me. I no longer need you.”
My arms, my shoulders, my whole body grew numb as her words sank into my head.
“But…but…” My thoughts scrambled with the noises around me—streetcar bells, honking automobiles, and laughing patrons. This couldn’t be happening.
I took a step closer to Doña Carmen. “Is it because of last night? Because I wasn’t here to help you?”
Doña Carmen rolled her eyes. She threw her cigarette to the ground and put her foot over it, almost stomping it. “I don’t care what you do on your days off. Had you shown up yesterday, you would’ve been let go a day earlier.”
My thoughts went to the day I’d almost lost her money. Had Don Lalo told her about it? Did she no longer trust me? “Is it because of the day I almost lost your money?”
The chili queen gave me a baffled look then seemed to recall something. “Now that you mention it…” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I don’t trust you anymore.”
“But I found your money,” I blurted out. “And if I hadn’t, I would have found a way to replace it. I wasn’t trying to steal from you.” I fought back tears, knowing full well crying in front of the queen would make things worse.
A boy approached us. It was the same boy I’d seen earlier setting up the glasses. “Anything else, ma’am?”
Doña Carmen reached for her handkerchief and handed him a few coins. “Go run the errand I told you about.”
The boy nodded, took the coins, and sped away.
My ears buzzed, and my face burned. “I was loyal to you.”
Doña Carmen remained silent; her eyes swept across the stand.
“You said you’d take care of me if I was loyal, and I worked hard to prove it. I showed up before my shift and stayed well after it was over—I even came to work on my days off. Was that not enough?”
Doña Carmen didn’t speak nor look at me. Instead, she lit another cigarette, and it took everything within to keep from slapping it away.
After a few drags, she finally spoke. “You’re a hard worker, Petra, but this boy here”—the chili queen used her chin to point in the boy’s direction—“he’s thirteen and can carry a lot more weight than you. He’s taller, stronger, and he set up this whole place in half the time it takes you. He’s also the son of a friend.”
“Please, Doña Carmen. I need this job.”
“You said your grandmother and sister shell pecans. Join them.”
“Shelling doesn’t pay much,” I said, moving in front of Doña Carmen as she stared at her stand. “Perhaps I can stay here and help you with something else. You could even pay me less.”
Doña Carmen looked annoyed as she leaned on to one side to keep her eyes on the stand. “I don’t do charity.”
“Doña Carmen, my wages from the Haymarket aren’t enough. I…I…” My mind raced, thinking of ways to convince Doña Carmen to keep me.
“My sister was here last night,” Doña Carmen said, taking another drag of her cigarette. “She too decided to replace you with the boy at the Haymarket.”
I stood motionless. The tears that had been clinging to my eyes had finally let loose and burned down my cheeks. I clenched my hands and felt my nails dig into my palms. The chili queen continued to talk, but not everything she said made it to my ears. The bits and pieces I did hear were about how hard of a worker I was but that the boy was stronger and knew how to read.
“Doña Carmen,” a girl working the tables shouted. “El Güero, the cowboy, wants to talk to you.”
“Tell him I’m on my way,” Doña Carmen said. Before walking away, the queen threw the cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and turned to me one last time. “You’ll find something soon. I have no doubt.” As she walked away, she laughed, clapped her hands, and extended her arms to the cowboy making his weekly visit to the queen.
Every fiber in me wanted to scream. I wanted to run through the stand, flip over every table, and hear every crystal glass shatter. I had been a fool, and that angered me to no end. But what enraged me the most, for the first time in my life, was that I hadn’t been born a boy.
Twenty-Six
Singing Bells
I darted down the main street like a raging bull. I bumped into tourists, cowboys, and soldiers who leisurely strolled the streets. Their smiles, their laughter, and even their chivalry as they moved out of the way or tipped their hats seemed like a mockery of my pain.
I dashed across streets and whisked around corners. Things that’d always fascinated me about the city—glowing signs, window displays, and band music flowing from terraces—became a blur. My legs burned, and I continued to run as fast as I could until my heart forced me to stop.
I grabbed on to a tall iron post at the end of a bridge. I hunched over it, coughing and struggling to catch my breath.
As my breathing settled, I straightened and looked around. I had no idea where I was, but the river in front of me had to be the same one that cut through the town’s center.
I made my way to the middle of the bridge and stepped up on the rail’s bottom edge. Dark shadows waved across the river’s surface, and high above the cypress trees, a breeze began to form. It shook the treetops, undecided as to which way to go.
Images of Ehecatl—the god of wind—came to me. Abuelita had told me that long, long ago our world had once been destroyed. Ehecatl, with his long, feathered body, had entered our fallen world and grown upset when he witnessed the destruction. In his anger, he twisted his serpentlike figure, and out of his beak erupted powerful winds that swept our world clean, restoring all order back to it.
My world was falling apart, and I wondered if Ehecatl could restore it.
The wind grew stronger, and as it dropped from the treetops, I grabbed the rail and lifted my chin. With my eyes shut, I took in a breath of Ehecatl’s power and wished for healing.
The strong breeze rushed through me. It brushed my face and blew back loose strands of hair. As it pushed harder against my shoulders, I increased my grip.
The wind quieted, and I opened my eyes. Nothing had been carried away or restored. My insides were still knotted, and I still didn’t know where my next job was coming from. Something else came to mind, though. Something I could fix right away.
My fingers moved briskly, unlacing my shoes. I’d worn these since my first day when I searched for a place to live. I was miserable wearing them, but the nuns had assured me shoes would help me get and keep a job.
I removed one shoe and stretched my toes in relief. The real satisfaction came when I pulled my hand back and, with all my strength, tossed the shoe into the river. The second shoe, I threw so hard, I thought my arm would go along with it. My heart grew lighter, and my toes wiggled and curled as I watched the pair float down the river.
My eyes turned to a building next to the bridge. In the dim light, I made it out to be a church.
Camila had warned me that there were different Catholic churches for different people in the city. There was one was for the Irish, one for the Germans, another for the Italians, and one for the Mexicans. She had been told it was frowned upon if you walked into the wrong church.
I didn’t believe it. How could the house of God be open to certain people only? In Mexico, the front pews were reserved for the rich, but the church itself was open to everyone.
I pulled the large wooden door open and let myself in.
Right at the entrance was a small basin filled with holy water. I wet the tip of my fingers, and as I began crossing myself, I stopped. My eyes opened wide as I tried to take in my surroundings.
Most churches I’d seen in my life, even the big San Fernando Cathedral we’d attended here in San Antonio, were humble in their appearance. This church was the most beautiful one I’d ever seen. The high, curved ceiling was painted with colorful shapes that formed crosses in overlapping patterns. Tall arches and columns trimmed with gold divided the wide open space of the chapel, while chandeliers filled it with soft light. The numerous stained-glass windows depicting stories from the Bible amazed me the most.
I walked toward the altar, passing rows upon rows of smooth, polished pews, all of them empty. Since no one was around to tell me where to sit, I led myself to a pew near the altar.
I had no shawl to cover my head nor rosary beads to hold. Instead, I untied my purple scarf and lifted it over my head, making me feel less exposed. I then pulled out my black rock and secured it between my clasped hands.
Kneeling, I looked in front of me. The ivory white of the altar rail and communion table matched the pureness of the Virgin Mary who sat high on top. I stared at the altar, and in the silence, my need to scream and flip tables was replaced by an urge to cry.
I was afraid to go home and tell Abuelita and Amelia I no longer had work. The rent was due in three days. There were also Abuelita’s medicines and Luisito’s milk. I shut my eyes and rested my head over my locked fingers. I had to think of a way out. I began to pray, not for a sign but for a way to find work.
My head was bowed when I began to hear a low murmur. I glanced around me as it grew louder. It was a soft sound, like a chant, and it came from the front of the church.
My heart stirred. I stood up and took gentle steps toward the altar and realized the sound came from a small, open side door. I stepped through it and entered a dark, narrow hallway. Cautiously, I followed the chant down the half-lit passage.
The melody grew louder. It echoed inside the hall and within my chest. I couldn’t make out the words being sung, but the voices carrying the chant sounded like bells, and every time the singing went high, goose bumps crept over the back of my head and down my arms.
I turned a corner, and at the end of the hallway was a door with light and sound pouring through. My black rock felt damp in my hand, and as I peeked into the bright room, I squeezed it tight, anticipating a chorus of angels.
At the far end of the large room, a choir of young boys stood on risers and sang. Most had blond and brown hair, and a few had hair as red as Mr. Bob’s. A nun stood tall in front of them, motioning her fingers to the rhythm of the chant. She wore a black habit like the nuns at the Wesley House.
The singing grew more powerful. I had been trying to remain hidden in the dark corridor, but in my distraction, I had stepped completely inside the room without anyone noticing. My eyes fluttered and dampened as the sound grew more intense.
Suddenly the singing came to a halt. A thick silence fell upon the entire room.
I hadn’t been seen, and slowly, I stepped back, hoping not to be noticed, when my black rock slipped out of my hand and hit the tile floor.
Clank!
Instantly, all eyes were on me.
I froze. I couldn’t move.
One boy pointed at me. He shouted something in English, and the whole choir broke into laughter.
My heart pounded through my ears. I trembled as Camila’s warning about not all churches being for Mexicans came to me.
The nun shouted and clapped her hands at the boys. As they quieted down, she turned to me. I made a swift move to pick up my rock, but in my attempt, my big toe got ahead of me and kicked it. The rock skidded across the floor and disappeared under an enormous cabinet. My heart dropped.
A wave of laughs and giggles followed.
I ran to the cabinet, dropped to my knees, and placed my head on the floor. My eyes scanned for the rock under the dusty shadows of the furniture. Behind me, I could hear the nun clapping away at the boys.
I spotted my rock and stretched my arm as far as it would go. Unable to reach it, I looked up and saw the nun talking to the boys, who’d begun to settle.
I repositioned myself, but with every stretch of my arm, my fingertips pushed the rock farther and farther away.
I looked up again, and this time, the nun marched toward me, her deep-blue eyes narrowing. I shot up, and my legs reacted on their own, bolting me back into the hallway, past the altar, and through the chapel. I pushed open the heavy door and ran back into the darkness.
Twenty-Seven
Nuts, Shoes, and Nuns
My world seemed to have turned upside down after I lost my job with the chili queen. Almost a week had gone by, and work was nowhere to be found. Just as hopeless were my attempts to rescue my baby diamond from the church. Only one good thing had happened: another visit from my cousin Pablo.
He had shown up in the middle of a cool, rainy evening. We all sat near the stove, wide-eyed, listening to his stories about how trains worked and how he was learning to fix them. He used his humor and charm to tell us about his travels and made it sound like they were all great adventures. Amelia begged for more stories, but despite the different questions she’d ask, Pablo kept his memories of the revolution to himself.
“But Pablo,” Amelia insisted. “How did you get here from Mexico?”
Pablo paused, thought for a moment, then smiled. “Ehecatl got me here.”
“Ehecatl?” Amelia looked puzzled. “The god of wind?”
Pablo nodded. “It was midday. I was working the fields when everything went dark. I looked up, searching for the sun, and over the mountains was the biggest storm I’d ever seen.”
Amelia squeezed her arms around her knees, curling herself around them. Even Luisito sat quietly on Pablo’s lap.
“Dark, scary clouds swirled over the mountaintops,” Pablo continued, “and the sky roared with thick lightning bolts firing across the desert. Some almost reached me. But you know what?”
“What?” Amelia said.
“Despite all the fussing and rumbling of the sky,” Pablo smiled. “It didn’t rain. Not a single drop. Instead, the whirl of clouds uncoiled and stretched out like an angry serpent ready to strike. And right before my eyes, the whole storm turned into giant wind gust that slithered down the mountain toward me.”
“What did you do?” asked Amelia.
“I pressed down on my sombrero and ran as fast as I could, but the wind was so powerful, it caught up with me and lifted me into the sky. I was scared, but when I realized it was Ehecatl who carried me, I relaxed. I glided like a bird over the desert.” Pablo made whistling sounds and moved his hand to show us how he glided. “I saw canyons and then flew over a long, silver ribbon that weaved across the desert—it was el Río Bravo.”
Amelia’s eyes sparkled as she turned to Nina in awe. Her wide smile revealed the gap of her two front missing teeth.
Before leaving, Pablo gave Abuelita some money. He offered me some, but I refused to take it.
“You are one big mule, prima,” Pablo said. “But lucky for you, a mule in America goes a lot further than one in Mexico.”
