Silver Meadows Summer

by Emma Otheguy

  They were just crossing the stream when a shadow fell over the bridge from the other side, casting the shape of a man, even a giant.

  He was so tall that behind him the farm looked cartoonlike. His hands were on his hips, and he was glaring down at them, and to Carolina it seemed as if he were blocking out the sky, filling the world with his boulder-like head and shoulders. “Shouldn’t you girls be inside? It’s the middle of the camp day!”

  “We were just—” Carolina pointed toward the woods, grasping for words, until Jennifer stepped on her foot lightly.

  “Sorry, George!” Jennifer said. “Lydia sent us to gather the eggs, and then we decided to check out the stream since we were already so close. The water’s risen a lot, see? It’s not as dry as it was before.”

  Carolina and George glanced down at the stream together, and sure enough, the water was rushing along, deeper and faster than before.

  George grunted. “Rain will do that, Jennifer. Not so interesting.” He shook his head. “Okay then, get going! My mom is probably waiting for you.”

  “Bye!” Jennifer waved cheerfully, then grabbed Carolina by the wrist and pulled her past George.

  “Keep walking,” Jennifer muttered to her. “Look casual.” As soon as they were a fair distance away, Jennifer exploded, “What a grinch! My dad told me that George hates farming but he’s stuck here since Paul died. I wish he would just go back where he came from!”

  “Jennifer,” Caro asked, “do you think— Are we trespassing? What if Lydia uses that house—”

  Jennifer shook her head. “No one’s been in there for ages; we’d be able to tell if they had. Besides,” she added, “we’re making it better. Now it has curtains. And an elf.”

  Carolina carried the little Ratoncito Pérez in her pocket all week, patting it from time to time. She and Jennifer were already planning their next adventure to the cabin. They were going to find flowers for the windowsill. Curtains and flowers, Caro thought, our little house. All that was missing was a hearth rug and a rocking chair. She’d never had hot tea, but all the same she imagined herself kneeling at the hearth, lifting a boiling kettle, and serving Jennifer in a dainty teacup.

  She was only half listening that Friday night while Mami, Papi, and Tía Cuca stood in the kitchen, discussing who should go to a dinner party they’d all been invited to by Alyssa’s parents.

  “You should come, Ana,” Tía Cuca said. “They’d be happy to have you.”

  Carolina leaned over the counter and propped her chin in her hands. Mami loved going to parties; she loved getting dressed up for them and choosing her earrings and spritzing on perfume. But Mami was shaking her head.

  “I would love to, but Daniel—”

  “We’ll call a babysitter!”

  “I could babysit,” Gabriela said.

  Carolina glared at her. “He’s my little brother; he’d want me to stay with him.”

  Tía Cuca clapped her hands together. “Girls! Cut it out! It’s very nice of you, but either we’re calling a babysitter or someone will stay home. Besides, Gabriela, I thought you wanted to see Alyssa?”

  “I do, but—”

  “Well then, you’re coming with us.”

  Gabriela muttered something about how she was almost in high school, but luckily Tía Cuca didn’t hear anything.

  “So will you come?” Tía Cuca asked Mami.

  Mami shook her head. “I’ll stay home with Daniel. Maybe Gonzalo will go.”

  “You really should!” Tía Cuca turned to Papi. “Lance has always been very good to us, more than just a boss, really. He may want to follow up after meeting you, he has so many connections—”

  “That’s not why I want him to go.” Mami frowned. “I just think he needs a night out.”

  “Oh—of course—that’s not—”

  There was a long and stiff silence, as if Tía Cuca and Mami had misplaced their usual selves, along with their smiles.

  “I would love to go,” Papi cut in, plastering a bright smile on his face. “It sounds like fun. Okay, Cristina?”

  “Yes. Great. Thank you. I mean—” Tía Cuca shook her head, and went to get Uncle Porter upstairs, as if she hoped that he maybe had her lost enthusiasm, and could give it back to her.

  Carolina stayed home with Mami, and after they tucked Daniel into bed, Mami settled onto the couch next to Carolina. “What did you do at camp today?” she asked.

  “Oh—not much. We went out for a little while, but it was so rainy.”

  “Are you still playing with Jennifer?”

  “Maybe we could read something together?” Carolina asked, dodging the question. Mami had always read to her and Daniel, every night, until a few weeks ago when she’d gotten so busy with the move there hadn’t been time for anything. “Gabriela’s old books are in the garage.” She got up and headed toward the garage.

  “Caro,” Mami said from the kitchen threshold. “You used to tell me what you were up to.”

  Caro stopped with her hand on the garage door. She could see herself, in her old school uniform on the terraza of their house in Puerto Rico, telling Mami every detail of her day, telling Mami the stories she made up in her head about fairies and elves, and repeating every bit of instruction Señora Rivón gave her—how it was important to loosen her arm, how she’d studied the ins and outs of the color wheel. “That was then,” she said softly, and, That was when you wanted to listen, she thought.

  She let go of the doorknob, and her arm swung to her side.

  “Do you still want to read with me?” Mami asked uncertainly.

  Carolina nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.”

  In the garage, they ran their fingers over the spines of Gabriela’s barely creased books.

  “We found a buyer for the house.” Mami pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through the pages. A puff of dust rose into the air. “The Realtor called today to tell me someone wants it for the land.”

  Carolina’s throat was tight, and she swallowed with difficulty. “You did?”

  “It’s such a relief. I have to call Conchita and tell her she can take her Saint Joseph out of the ground,” Mami said with a laugh.

  Now Carolina wished she had protested, pulled Saint Joseph out when no one was looking, or buried him right-side up. Cousin Conchita’s magic had worked, and that was terrible.

  “Hang on a second,” Carolina said slowly. “If they wanted it for the land, does that mean…” In her mind’s eye she saw the gate with the padlock, and the blue-and-white tiles of the terraza, and the goldfish in the fountain, the goldfish that had been left alone to die.

  “They’re going to tear down the old house, of course.”

  “What? They can’t do that! It’s our house—”

  “Caro! I was afraid you would take it this way!” Mami set the book down on the garage shelf. “We had to sell that house, and we’re lucky we were able to. What did you expect Papi and me to do, keep a house that no one was living in forever?”

  “But what about the yard? What about my bench and all the paths that Papi built?”

  “You’re being too sensitive, Caro. It’s a house. Think about your grandparents. Do you think they sat around and cried about houses when they left Cuba? No. They always said that we were lucky to be together in Puerto Rico, that home is where your family is.” Mami cleared her throat. “Tía Cuca and I were apart for a very long time after she left Puerto Rico,” she added. “It’s good that we’re all together now. You should be happy.”

  The way she said it, Carolina knew it was no use telling her that she wasn’t happy.

  Mami wriggled a book loose from the shelf. She held it out to Carolina. “Esperanza Rising. It was your favorite book for years. Do you want to read it?”

  Carolina snatched the book and cradled it to herself, then flipped the light to the ga
rage and headed to the living room. She left Mami to find her own way out of the dark garage.

  “I remember reading it to you over and over again,” Mami called, following Carolina into the living room. “When you were only Dani’s age.”

  Carolina examined the cover, which had a picture of a girl soaring into the sky. She stared at the title, each word capitalized: Esperanza Rising, capital, capital, like two staccato notes. At home, she’d had the Spanish edition, where only the first word of the title was capitalized: Esperanza renace, the second word falling gracefully after the first, like water rolling down a hill. She could remember that edition perfectly, and she knew exactly which pages were dog-eared, or sticky. She didn’t remember packing it, and she wondered where it had ended up.

  “Okay, let’s read it, then,” Carolina said. She didn’t meet Mami’s eyes, but she settled down on the couch and opened the book. The spine creaked—it didn’t look like Gabriela had ever read it.

  It was a little strange, reading a book she knew so well in a different language. They’d read other books in English, Harry Potter over and over again, but in the world of their old, now-sold house, Esperanza’s story had always been told in Spanish.

  Mami took the book and put an arm around her. Caro kept her arms crossed while Mami read, and listened to the rhythm of the words, and to the story of the girl. She was surprised to find that it still meant something, that Esperanza was still her, a girl who loved the land, in any language. Esperanza lived on a beautiful ranch in Mexico, but when her father was killed by bandits and her evil uncles set fire to her house, Esperanza and her mother had to flee to California.

  At the end of that chapter, Caro said with unintended tears, “We’re like them. They lost their ranch, and now we lost our house.”

  “Ay, Caro,” Mami said dismissively. “Hazme el favor. Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? We’re healthy. Our family is together.”

  “I’m happy we’re together,” Caro said slowly, wishing she could explain it, make Mami see why it mattered so much. The house, the yard, the flamboyán—those had been hers and Mami’s, that was where their family had been closest. That was where she had told Mami everything she didn’t tell her now.

  “We’re lucky, Caro. We’re so lucky,” Mami insisted.

  “We’re not lucky. You keep saying that, but we had to move and that wasn’t lucky, and now you want to be just like everyone else, whatever it takes to be like Cuca and Gabs.” Caro spat the nickname out. “You want to do everything just like them.”

  “Mi cielo, that’s not true. I’m just trying—”

  “Don’t try and deny it! Look what you did with the tooth fairy, you let Tía Cuca change everything just like that!” Carolina balled her fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

  “Caro, I was being polite. I’m trying to fit in and make things work for us here, I don’t know why that’s so hard for you to understand,” Mami snapped.

  The front door flew open, and the alarm system beeped in the hall. Someone typed the code in quickly.

  Mami and Carolina stared at each other. Mami’s face was white.

  “Cristina?” Mami called.

  Carolina gripped Mami’s hand, her eyes on the entry of the living room, just feet from the front door.

  Gabriela rounded the corner.

  “Gabriela!” Mami croaked. “You surprised us!”

  Gabriela flung herself on the couch and cried noisily, her back heaving as she sobbed.

  “What happened, Gabs?” Mami slid closer to Gabriela on the couch and gingerly patted her back. “Is everything okay? Where are your parents?”

  Carolina hung back, baffled. Gabriela was always so laid-back, smooth, and cool as a cucumber. Carolina couldn’t imagine what could have sent her into such a tailspin.

  “My parents are still at Alyssa’s; I ran home.” Gabriela sat up. “They were all having a fine old time eating dinner outside, so Alyssa and I went inside to listen to music. Then Alyssa tells me that she asked her parents about the next Chiquifancy tour, and they said that they’re worried about what type of influence Chiqui has on her. But they mean me.” Gabriela crossed her arms and hunched over.

  “Your mom says that Alyssa’s family loves you,” Mami protested. “I can’t imagine they really care what kind of music you listen to, mi amor.”

  Carolina raised her head. “Mi amor” was what Mami called her, her and Daniel. It sounded weird, hearing Mami treat Gabriela lovingly, almost like her own.

  “Alyssa’s so tiny and perfect, and they think I’m going to mess her up!” Gabriela buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Mami rubbed Gabriela’s back. “Shhhhh,” she said to Gabriela. “That’s all right.” To Carolina she said, “Can you go call Alyssa’s house and tell them that Gabriela’s here? They’re probably worried.”

  Carolina went to the kitchen and rummaged through the drawer. At last, she found an old class list posted to the side of the refrigerator, and sure enough, Alyssa’s phone number was on it.

  After she hung up the phone, she went back to the living room and sat quietly next to Mami.

  “She said—” Gabriela hiccupped. “She said that her parents were worried because Latinas ‘get it’ sooner.” Gabriela inhaled through her nose, shaking slightly from her crying.

  “Get what?” Mami asked.

  “Puberty. Boobs!”

  Mami laughed. “Oh, come on, that’s silly.”

  “It’s true! Have you seen Chiquifancy?”

  “Gabriela, she’s a pop star. You know perfectly well that Latinas come in all shapes and sizes just like everyone else in the world.”

  “They don’t!” Gabriela wailed.

  Mami looked blankly at Carolina, as if searching for an answer. “Well, maybe your mom could talk to them, or—”

  “No! That will make everything worse. We can’t make Alyssa’s dad mad, you’ve seen how my mom tiptoes around him.”

  Carolina tried to imagine a world where Gabriela or her body was threatening or scary, but she couldn’t. She thought the Rogans should worry more about what kind of influence Alyssa had on Gabriela, and she said so aloud. “Alyssa acts sweet, but everyone at camp likes you better, Gabriela. They know Alyssa can be slimy behind their backs.”

  “Well, this is all your fault, Caro!”

  “What?”

  “It is,” Gabriela went on. “It’s because you ignore Alyssa, and then you do whatever Jennifer is up to, even if it’s something totally annoying like hanging out with the sheep in the pouring rain!”

  “We weren’t bothering anyone.”

  “You bothered Alyssa! She had to wait while I talked to you and she wanted to go inside, and anyway it was weird. Alyssa hates that stuff—”

  “Well,” Mami interrupted, “I’m sure Caro can make more of an effort to get along with Alyssa if you think it would help. Won’t you, Caro?”

  “Yeah, Alyssa’s parents would love that. Another Chiquifancy to corrupt their daughter.” Caro grabbed the book and headed toward the stairs, shaking her head.

  “I don’t think that’s what they meant,” Mami called after her, but Carolina knew it was exactly what they meant, and Gabriela knew it too.

  Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

  And sorry I could not travel both

  And be one traveler, long I stood

  And looked down one as far as I could

  To where it bent in the undergrowth.

  —Robert Frost (1874–1963), “The Road Not Taken”

  Carolina paused on her way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Mingled with the sound of the television downstairs, she heard crying—muffled, sniffling tears.

  She stopped and listened outside of Gabriela’s door, which was slightly open. Had Gabriela been crying all night
? Did Gabriela really blame her for Alyssa’s parents? Carolina shook her head. It didn’t matter. When she thought of what Alyssa’s parents had said, she got so angry, and Gabriela was her cousin. She pushed open the door.

  Gabriela didn’t move. Her face was buried in a pillow, and the comforter had been kicked to the floor. Carolina tiptoed over and lifted the comforter. “Did you want this?” she asked awkwardly.

  Gabriela rolled over. Her nose was red and her face was wet. She took the comforter without saying a word.

  Carolina watched Gabriela burrow into the blanket, making a sort of cocoon for herself. “Gabriela?” Carolina asked finally. “Why do you care so much about being friends with Alyssa anyway? She can be so awful.”

  “You don’t know her. She’s been my best friend my entire life.”

  “Then why would she care what I do? Or what her parents think? I don’t think she has a problem with Chiquifancy.”

  Gabriela stared at the ceiling. “But her parents are so strict, and if they decide I’m a bad influence…”

  Carolina shook her head. “Alyssa’s parents don’t know anything. My mom is right—Puerto Ricans come in all shapes and sizes, and besides, what you look like has nothing to do with how nice you are. You’re more angelic than Alyssa, that’s for sure.”

  “I guess. Alyssa’s no angel, but she’s nice to me.” Gabriela sank down deeper below the comforter. After a while, she said, “I’m not coming down to breakfast,” and rolled over, turning her back to Carolina.

  Downstairs, Tía Cuca had set up the sewing machine on the kitchen table. She obviously didn’t know Gabriela had been crying, because as soon as she saw Carolina, she said brightly, “I thought we could get started on your sewing lessons! We’ll make curtains, like you wanted.”

  “Oh,” Carolina said. “Right.” She had forgotten about the sewing lessons, and she wasn’t about to tell Tía Cuca why she didn’t need to make curtains anymore. While Daniel watched cartoons, Mami read a book, and everyone else slept, Carolina sat next to Tía Cuca and learned to use the machine.

  Sewing wasn’t bad. At first, the whole thing felt rumbly, like a bumpy train ride, or a boat on choppy seas. But soon, Carolina caught a rhythm, and when she sewed a long seam, there was a glide to it, a flow that Carolina felt when her painting was going well.