Mexican WhiteBoy

by Matt De La Peña

  Take two Mother’s Days ago when Uncle Tommy pointed to a line in the sports page and said, “What’s this mean, Danny? ‘H-o-l-i-s-t-i-c-a-l-l-y’?”

  “Holistically,” Danny fired back (he was still talking at that point). “Since the Padres are so young this year, the writer’s urging fans not to get caught up in wins and losses but to consider the bigger picture.”

  Uncle Tommy nodded.

  Danny’s heart dropped.

  Tommy slapped Danny on the back and said: “How you turn out to be such a smart motherfucker, D? I know it wasn’t nothin’ to do with your pops.”

  Danny shrugged and told him: “I ain’t that smart, Uncle Tommy.”

  And he ain’t!

  Talkin’ like that to grown folks. What he should’ve done was act like he’d never even seen that word before. Stared at it just as perplexed as his uncle. Offered to pull the dictionary off the bookshelf he’d helped his dad build next to Grandma’s bed.

  But it was too late. The damage had already been done. And when his uncle went back to the rest of his article, the rest of his beer, Danny went back to the rest of his life—seemingly on the inside of la familia de Lopez, but really on the outside.

  5

  In the bathroom, Danny applies the special ointment the doctor gave him for his stitches. But also still thinking things through. He dabs the cream on with a Q-tip, checks the mirror, screws on the lid and drops the tube into the drawer. He leaves the bathroom and heads back to his cot.

  But just as he’s leaving, his uncle Tommy is heading in. Tommy looks like he means business, has his cap turned backward, a day-old Union-Tribune tucked under his arm. He gives Danny a little fake jab on the walk-by and then pulls the door closed behind him. Before Danny can get to his cot, though, Tommy swings the door right back open, gasping for air. “Goddamn, D!” he shouts. “What the hell died in your ass?”

  Danny stops cold in Sofia’s doorway, turns to his uncle confused. All he’d done was put ointment on his stitches.

  “Cecilia, baby,” Tommy shouts, “the poor kid musta been backed up from here to Tijuana. You tellin’ me we can’t pour his irregular ass a bowl of bran flakes in the morning? Get him a mug of green tea? Jesus Christ, baby!”

  Sofia and Cecilia start laughing so hard they’re doubled over in the living room. But Danny’s just standing there barefoot and shell-shocked.

  “Sofe, where’s the yellow police tape I swiped off that fire truck last Halloween? I’m serious, baby, go get it for your old man. Danny messed up my john so bad I gotta caution it off for the night.”

  It isn’t until Uncle Tommy joins in on the laughter, goes back into the bathroom and closes the door behind him that Danny gets the joke.

  For a few seconds he watches Sofia and Cecilia laugh, and then he laughs, too. Even though it sort of pulls where his stitches are. After a few seconds he ducks back into Sofia’s room, lies on his cot and goes back to his thinking.

  6

  After Julia and Danny cleared the table of dirty plates, stacked them in the kitchen sink, Wendy tapped a fork against her half-empty wineglass and said: “Kids, come take a seat. Randy has a very important announcement to make. I want you to give him your undivided attention.”

  Danny and Julia took their seats.

  Wendy turned to Randy. “Floor’s all yours, babe.”

  Randy set down his wineglass and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He cleared his throat. “Danny. Julia. First off, let me just say thank you for a truly wonderful evening. Hearing about your baseball talent and academic success, Danny. And Julia, your interest in modern dance. I mean, no wonder Wendy just beams whenever she mentions you two.”

  Randy smiled, pulled the bottle of champagne out of the bucket of ice and wiped down the base with a hand towel. “Now, your mom and I have known each other for something like six or seven months.”

  “Seven and a half,” Wendy said. “But who’s counting?”

  “Right. Seven and a half. Exactly. Not a ton of time in the grand scheme of things, I suppose. But I’m a firm believer in going with your gut. I got to where I am today by doing just that. And, not to pat myself on the back or anything, but I’m doing pretty darn well, I’d say. I own a beautiful three-bedroom condo on Russian Hill in San Francisco. My bedroom window takes up an entire wall. Get this, guys. Every morning I wake up, roll over in bed, and bam! There’s Alcatraz. I have a decent amount of capital invested in coastal real estate—anyway, you get the idea. I don’t bring all this up to float my own boat. No, I bring it up to illustrate the power of going with one’s gut. And my gut in this case, Danny, Julia…” Randy looked at them both, one at a time, and then turned to a grinning Wendy. “Well, my gut tells me the feelings I have for your mom are the real thing.”

  The little grin on his mom’s face bloomed into an all-out smile. She reached across the table and covered Randy’s hand with her own.

  Randy flipped his hand over to squeeze Wendy’s hand. With his other hand he pulled the champagne bottle closer. “In light of this, last week I asked your mom to come live with me for the summer. In San Francisco. If things go well, which I fully expect they will, the move will become permanent. In the meantime, we’re looking at the summer as a kind of a trial run. I’ve already paid the rent on your apartment here through September. If for any reason we feel the situation isn’t working out, any of us, we simply go back to the way it was. You guys follow?”

  Danny and Julia looked at each other. They looked at their mom.

  “I’m not sure I’ve made myself clear,” Randy said. “I’m inviting you two to live with me as well. One of my closest friends in the world, Mark Jenkins, has two children around your age. He has a real beat on the teen scene, I guess you could say. Anyway, we sat down a couple days ago and made a list of things you kids may be interested in—camps you could attend, sports teams you could join, dance classes, Julia, that you could sign up for. San Francisco is an amazing city full of wonderful opportunities. And I want you two to feel as welcome as your mom. This is a package deal.”

  “But at the same time,” Wendy added, “I’ve spoken to your uncle Tommy and Cecilia, and they’re more than happy to take you guys in for the summer. I want you guys to have a choice.”

  Danny looked at Julia, whose face had gone totally pale. He looked at his mom—she was smiling ear to ear and looking at Randy. At that moment he wanted nothing else to do with her ever again.

  “The choice is yours,” Randy said. “I’m a firm believer in presenting people with options. Even children. Choice gives a human being a sense of empowerment.”

  “But San Francisco…,” Wendy said, shaking her head. She giggled and squeezed Randy’s forearm, didn’t finish her sentence.

  “Now, your mom and I figure it’s only right to give you some time to mull things over. We’ve just thrown you guys a pretty good curveball, right, Danny?” Randy laughed a little, winked at Danny. “It’s only fair we give you time. Why don’t we say Friday. Sound good? Friday we’ll all touch base again and talk more specifically about our proposed arrangement.”

  “But do understand,” Wendy said, “if things work out between Randy and me, we’ll be—honey, I’m not being too presumptuous, am I?”

  “Baby, you’re not being presumptuous enough. We’ll be a family. Plain and simple. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  Danny looked to Julia, who was staring at her empty plate, fighting back tears.

  Wendy reached out, took Randy’s hand. “God, sometimes I wonder if you’re for real. It’s like any second I’m going to wake up and poof, it’ll all have been a dream.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. And neither are your two beautiful children.” Randy reached for the champagne bottle, started working at the cork.

  Wendy jumped to her feet. “This is all so exciting! Listen, you two think it over, okay? We’ll talk again on Friday. Like Randy said. But right now I wanna hear some music. Something happy. Something with a litt
le bit of soul.”

  She danced over to her CD stand and ran a forefinger down the titles. She turned to Randy. “How about a little Al Green, baby? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  “Sounds perfect,” Randy said, popping the cork.

  Wendy pulled out Al Green’s I’m Still in Love with You and cued the title track. When the first notes came over the speakers she covered her heart with both hands and sighed. Then she turned up the volume and danced by herself, in front of the window overlooking the parking lot.

  Danny watched Randy watch his mom. He felt so mad he wanted to throw something at the wall. Break something over Randy’s head. But he just sat there. He turned to Julia. She was still staring at her plate. He reached under the table and touched her hand, and instead of looking up she squeezed his hand back and began to cry without making any sound.

  Randy stared at Wendy and chuckled a little under his breath. He shook his head, said: “Just look at her, guys. That’s the reason I fell in love with your mom.”

  He shook his head again, said: “That. Right there.”

  A few days later Uncle Tommy and Sofia came to pick up Danny. Julia decided to go with their mom and Randy to San Francisco.

  Uno and His Peeps Talk Summer Jobs

  1

  From a sitting position on the curb, Uno pitches a rock after a passing minivan. The van continues on, untouched, as the rock skips to a stop halfway down the block. He turns to Chico, says: “How’s that gonna fly, man? You know I ain’t got no rig.”

  “They give you a car,” Chico says, pulling his hands from his pockets. “Isn’t that right, Raul?”

  Raul nods. “Some of ’em do. Not pizza places, but the higher-class ones.”

  “And you’d make mad tips,” Chico says.

  Uno stretches out his right shoulder. He picks up another rock, fingers the edges for a sec and then flings it across the street.

  The fellas are sitting on the corner of Twenty-eighth and Potomac, discussing Uno’s financial situation. All three of them dressed in jeans and white T-shirts. Their Timberlands at the edge of the street. Raul has a generic fitted cap turned backward.

  It’s late afternoon and behind their backs the sun is slowly falling from the sky. The air is warm and heavy. An occasional burst of wind scoots an empty McDonald’s bag along the sidewalk across the street.

  “But you can’t be countin’ on no more derby wins,” Chico says. “Not with Sofe’s cousin around.”

  Uno rolls his eyes. “Dude hit a couple out—”

  “He hit three out,” Raul interrupts. “And he wasn’t done yet.”

  “Hit deep ones, too,” Chico says. “Cleared the second roof, man. Nobody’s ever done that.”

  “I was trippin’,” Raul says.

  “Yo, when he hit that second one?” Chico goes on. “I was like, ‘Oh, damn!’”

  “Whatever,” Uno says. He throws another rock into the street. “Anyway, I ain’t sure I could be no delivery boy. Imagine I gotta take food to some little cutie, man. Showin’ up in some stupid-ass uniform. Nah, that ain’t my skeeze.”

  “That’s they fantasy,” Raul says. “Some fine-ass mom asks you to bring in her food. Says, ‘Sure is hot out there, young man. Can I offer you a beer or something? Be nice to cool off for a minute.’”

  Everybody breaks up a little at the breathy female voice Raul puts on.

  Chico flicks on his lighter, lets it die out. “‘Why don’t we throw those sweaty clothes in the wash, young man? I’m sure my husband has a robe somewhere you can borrow.’”

  “‘Go on, honey. Step out of them pants. I won’t look.’” Raul slaps hands with Chico, says, “‘Wow, you have such big muscles for a high school boy. Do you lift weights? Come here for a minute, I wanna feel them for myself.’”

  The guys crack up for a sec, then Uno says, “Y’all sellin’ me.”

  “Right,” Raul says. “Yo, what’s better than gettin’ paid to do up some old broad’s fantasy?”

  “Them moms got skills, too,” Chico says. “And they get mad lonely playin’ Legos all day.”

  Uno scoops up another rock, hucks it into somebody’s yard. He stares at the pavement, his smile slowly fading, tries again to picture what Oxnard might look like. For some reason the first thing he always thinks of is a big, clean church. Stained-glass windows. Senior standing in the middle of a bunch of black folks, singing along to some old-school hymn. Then he imagines the big grocery store Senior told him they moved next to. No bars on any of the windows. A real new one with bright fluorescent lights inside. Neat rows of food. Maybe there’s a Mexican sweet-bread shop next door. A place to rent movies.

  Uno’s pulled out of his head when Raul nudges him with an elbow and nods to the street.

  Uno looks up, spots Sofia and Carmen Rollerblading down the hill together.

  At first the girls are just laughing and blading and don’t notice Uno and his crew. But just before they pass, Sofia glances left and comes to a screeching halt.

  She says something to Carmen and then skates up to the boys. She puts on a fake smile. “Hey Raul. Hey Chico.”

  Both guys say hi back.

  Then she turns to Uno, lets her smile fade. “My cousin’s hiding out in the apartment right now. Took mad stitches in the back of his head. His left eye’s all black and blue and he won’t come out ’cause he’s ashamed of what happened.”

  Uno looks at the pavement.

  “I’m gonna tell you now, Uno. If you ever pull some shit like that with my cousin again, I’m gonna sneak into your apartment one night with a knife. A big sharp one. And I’m gonna slice your stuff all up.” She points between Uno’s legs. “Down there, pendejo.”

  Chico and Raul glance at each other trying not to laugh.

  “That ain’t a threat, Uno. It’s a promise.”

  Uno looks up, says, “I’m tryin’ to tell you, Sofe, you saw what happened to my little bro—”

  “That was an accident and you know it! You were pissed about him hitting them home runs. I know how your dumb ass thinks. I swear to God, though, you mess with Danny again, I’m carvin’ you up like a pumpkin.”

  Sofia waves for Carmen to follow and the two of them continue skating off down the road.

  “Damn,” Chico says, once they’re out of earshot.

  “Sofe don’t play, man,” Raul says.

  “She got bad thoughts,” Chico says.

  “Real bad.”

  Uno doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, hands in his pockets now, watching Sofia and Carmen turn into the entrance of Las Palmas Park, out of sight.

  Del Mar Fair

  1

  A few days later, Danny stands with Sofia on the sidewalk in front of the apartment complex watching Chico clunk down Potomac in his brother’s old Impala. Hubcaps spinning rust, windshield spidered on the passenger side. Sofia finally pulled Danny off his cot by…well, literally pulling him off his cot. “You been in here long enough,” she said, throwing a fresh pair of jeans his way. One of his collar shirts and some socks. His Vans. “You goin’ with me and my girls to the fair. Twenty minutes.”

  Danny didn’t ask questions. He got up, changed in the bathroom, threw some water on his face and in his hair. Found her waiting for him in the living room when he stepped out.

  Carmen shoots out over the hill behind Chico, whips her beat-up Ford Festiva around Chico as he pulls to the curb, leaves a little rubber on the sidewalk right in front of Danny’s retreating feet.

  Raul swings the passenger-side door open, starts free-styling over the syncopated beat Lolo lays down by slapping at Raul’s headrest. Carmen rolls down her window, waves at Sofia and Danny.

  Chico leans out of his Impala behind them, shouts: “You gonna have to squeeze in the Matchbox, Sofe. I’m seven deep in here.”

  “You know I got my girl,” Carmen yells back at Chico.

  Sofia goes to her window and gives Carmen a little hug. Danny stands back, waves when Carmen waves.

  “Lo
ok at your cuz,” Carmen says. “He look all nice tonight. Girls gonna want to gobble him up.”

  Danny smiles, but he knows she’s just trying to make him feel good. He digs his nails into his forearm as he listens to a little more small talk between Sofia and her friends. Then on the sly he peeks down at his collar shirt. His Vans. He looks at Raul and Lolo. T-shirt and jeans. Timberlands. He needs to get new clothes.

  The passenger-side door of the Impala swings open and Uno flings an empty Colt 45 bottle onto the lawn of a neighboring house. Danny watches the bottle roll into a dying bush and disappear. His stomach drops when he turns back to Uno and their eyes lock.

  Danny looks away, digs nails deeper into skin.

  In the middle of Raul’s flow, Lolo mixes into his beat a whack to the back of his boy’s head. Raul stops mid-lyric, spins around rubbing the sting out. “Yo, what’s that about, flaco?”

  “You got one bug on your head,” Lolo says with a straight face. “I smash for you.”

  “Yo, you best watch your back.”

  “I kill bug, gordo. You no believe me?”

  Raul turns to Carmen, points to his head: “There was somethin’ on my head, Carm?”

  “I ain’t gettin’ wrapped up in y’all’s games,” she says.

  “Was one spider,” Lolo shouts.

  Raul turns back to Lolo. “Aplacate, flaco!”

  Before Lolo can respond, Raul and everybody else turns to the road. Danny’s uncle Ray is speeding down the hill in his Bronco. He screeches to a stop in the middle of the street, cranks his parking brake and flings open his door. He jumps out, still dressed in his dirty construction boots and construction pants.

  He walks right up on Danny, takes him by the chin and looks over the stitches in his face. “How this really happen, D?” Ray looks into the Festiva, scans faces. “I don’t like what I’m hearin’.”

  Danny’s unable to move his face. All he can do is stare back at his uncle. But inside he’s falling apart. The last thing he wants is for his uncle to draw more attention to him.