Illegal

by Bettina Restrepo

Manuela arrived and Jorge lumbered out to her truck. She wore a different tank top, but the same earrings. He tugged at her ponytail. They hugged and kissed like newly married people deeply in love.

  Jorge reached in and caressed Manuela’s cheek, and I remembered when Papa used to do that to Mama.

  CHAPTER 22

  Lessons Learned

  Jorge walked ahead of me to the pool and spoke in English to the lifeguard.

  The blond girl sitting high up in the chair looked like an angel. Highlights in her hair twinkled like it had a lightbulb glowing through it. I couldn’t see her eyes because she wore dark round sunglasses. I didn’t see anyone my age except for one lone girl sitting under the trees, her face hidden in a magazine.

  “Lifeguard,” Jorge told me. I tried to get the words to slow down, but I was only catching pieces. Tacos. Swim. Free.

  I tugged at Jorge’s shirt. “Jorge. No entiendo.”

  “Don’t worry about Lauren,” he said. “I have a deal with her that you can sell poolside as long as she gets free drinks.”

  The girl with the magazine peeked over the pages at me with curiosity. It was the skinny girl! Her cheek was tinged with a purplish green bruise.

  Lauren raised her voice. “I don’t speak Spanish. I don’t know why they assign me to this pool.”

  Jorge huffed at her comments back at the stand. “Nora, your job is to come inside the pool every hour to sell snacks to the customers.”

  Jorge gave me a brown bag filled with a torta and a slice of watermelon. “Take this to Mr. Mann. He doesn’t talk much and he’s wary of strangers. Just set it a few paces from him and walk away.”

  “Who is he, exactly?” I asked.

  “Just a homeless man, but he’s still one of God’s creatures. I let him park his shopping cart here because he can’t take it inside the Salvation Army at night.”

  He sat at the corner. I set down the bag next to his plastic container of coins. He didn’t make eye contact, and I didn’t make conversation. When I looked over my shoulder, he was already eating his sandwich.

  The morning flew by. When I walked past the skinny girl, I noticed the bruises. “¿Coca-Cola? ¿Galletas?” I asked.

  She examined my face and spoke with a sharp edge. “Lauren gets paid to do her job, and you can just do yours. She’s not better than you.”

  “¿Qué? No hablo mucho Inglés,” I said, trying to grasp her words, which overwhelmed me all at once.

  “Time to learn,” she said in Spanish. “You have to earn your own way here, and screaming across the park doesn’t help no one.”

  “Me llamo Nora,” I said apologetically. What could I have done?

  “Flora,” she said, ending our conversation.

  By the time I looked up, it was the afternoon. Jorge tossed me the swimming suit. “Okay, kid. Time for your break.”

  He pointed to the locker rooms. “Go to the pool and make some friends. It’s good for business. Be back in half an hour.”

  The yellow suit stretched across my body like a glove, but I felt shy about walking across the pool deck in something so revealing. Flora was still hunkered down by the shade trees and rarely ventured into the water. “Is this seat taken?” I asked Flora.

  “Yeah,” she said, without looking up.

  I knew she was lying. “I’ve watched you all day; no one is sitting here.”

  Her painted eyebrows arched. “Who are you, a detective? Get lost, seat taken.”

  I gasped with surprise. My mouth just hung open.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” I said, lifting my feet back and forth. The concrete was getting hot, and I felt confused from her earlier words of advice. Was this her way of getting me back for all of those times I had looked away?

  She glanced up at me again. “Jorge is watching. He wouldn’t want you hanging out with me.” She flopped her green backpack on the chair and shooed me away. “And what my brother does ain’t your fault. Just move on.”

  I wandered to the shallow end and sat on the steps. I just wanted to wade into the cool blue water and disappear.

  A small black girl with braids came through the gate and walked toward the shallow end. Each braid was fastened with a different colored rubber band. She looked younger than me.

  Sitting next to me on the steps, she smiled broadly. “Are you taking lessons too?” Her hair was filled with beautiful plaits. “I’m Keisha. I can’t swim real good, neither.”

  “Swim?” I said. I practiced the word because I had heard it so often this morning.

  Keisha began talking. I didn’t want her to get mad at me like everybody else, so I just nodded like I knew what she was saying. How old could she be? Eleven? Twelve?

  “Hey, are we gonna start these lessons or what?” Keisha yelled at Lauren.

  She pulled her sunglasses down her nose. “You’ve already flunked four times. Just stay in the shallow end and don’t drown.”

  Keisha stood on the first step with the water. She splashed water around her legs and rattled on in English.

  “Okay,” I said, like I understood every word. Pretend it’s easy until it is.

  I liked the way her hair bounced as she talked. Her skin was so black it looked blue. Her suit was purple and little pieces of elastic were sticking out along the edges.

  She kept saying the same words. “Swim.” “Pool.” “Lessons.” She pointed to the other end of the pool a lot, shaking her head. Did that mean we were supposed to stay on this side? I definitely needed to practice my English.

  “Okay,” I said again. I wasn’t exactly sure what she was saying, but it sounded good enough. Flora watched us with interest, but never moved from her chair.

  Keisha stepped in the pool and I dipped my feet in. I couldn’t believe she thought I could speak English. It was nice to have a friend, even a young one, as the children in Cedula seemed to disappear with their families.

  A chill went up the back of my knees. “Frío,” I whispered.

  Keisha didn’t notice me as she plunged into the water. The water reached up to her chest. It was so clear that I could see her feet touching the bottom.

  Fear gripped my stomach. Something wasn’t right.

  But before I could retreat, I felt a hard shove. “Move it.”

  I heard Flora’s voice in the background. “Noooo!”

  I fell, face-first, and immediately swallowed water. My feet couldn’t find the bottom. Swinging my arms made the water swallow me and everything slowed down. I felt a hand yanking on the straps of my suit. I was lifted up and water poured out of my mouth and nose. Keisha’s hands pulled me to the side of the pool.

  Lauren didn’t move from her chair. She just sat there twirling her hair as two girls walked away cackling. They each had a red star on their shoulders.

  My heart pounded. Why had I been pushed? At least Keisha saved me.

  “Are you okay?” Keisha asked me. “Do you even know what I’m saying?” She said it louder, like I was deaf.

  “She doesn’t speak English, dummy,” Flora said to Keisha.

  My legs shook from so much pretending and nearly drowning. How could I learn quickly without being killed in the process?

  “You don’t speak English?” asked Keisha. “How come you kept nodding earlier like you understood everything?”

  “Okay,” I answered hoping the word fit into the conversation. Tears burned at my eyes and made my nose feel stuffy.

  Keisha nodded as Flora strolled back toward the deep end. “I don’t talk to Flora anyways. Her brother is a big gang-banger and those mean girls are also in a gang. I don’t know why Flora is always at the pool but never talking to nobody.”

  How could this day get any worse? Nearly drowning, not being able to speak English, and even worse, almost crying in front of strangers.

  But still, I wasn’t going to let random girls bully me.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Grandma would tell me to try again.

  “Okay,” I said again. “Swim.
” I slid off the side of the pool and into the water, but my hands remained glued to the edge. Keisha smiled as her rainbow braids floated in the water behind her like piñata streamers. Flora watched us carefully. As long as I could see both of them, things at the pool would be okay.

  CHAPTER 23

  Food

  Park people trickled to the stand during my break. Most were sweaty in T-shirts and blue jeans, and I wondered what Papa was wearing. He left with four shirts, but I couldn’t remember what any of them looked like. Watching people’s backs as they walked away from the stand with bags full of tacos and tortillas, I wished Papa could see me swimming. Would he recognize me at all?

  Jorge waved at me and pointed to his watch. I guess that meant my break was over. I grabbed Keisha’s arm and pulled her toward the stairs.

  “Where we going?” asked Keisha.

  “¿Hambre? ¿Comida?”

  Keisha shook her head. I twisted my wrist in a circle like I was holding a fork and, moving it toward my mouth, made chewing noises and patted my stomach.

  Finally she nodded her head yes to my game of charades. “Oh, we gonna get something to eat?”

  I nodded. Comida. Food.

  I knew Flora watched our every move, and I also knew she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

  Keisha put bright purple sandals on her feet. “You gotta watch out for the stickers, these little balls of needle weeds in the grass. Go put your sandals on.”

  I just shrugged and slipped on my old shoes. I didn’t have fancy plastic ones like hers. I owned a single pair of shoes—the ones on my feet.

  The concrete steamed beneath us and the sun cooked us and everything in the park. I didn’t have a towel, and by the time we reached the stand, I felt dry.

  I wanted Jorge to see how well I’d learned English. “Please eat for Keisha? Ella es mi amiga.”

  “Hey!” exclaimed Jorge. “This food ain’t for free.” But he piled two plates full and pointed to the picnic tables. Flora pretended she wasn’t watching, but I saw her mouth twitch when the food was dished out.

  “Is Jorge your uncle or something?” asked Keisha.

  I told her what I thought she was asking. “Jorge. Jefe.”

  Keisha pointed a lot. Her eyebrows went up and down a lot as she talked. “Has anyone told you how much you look like his niece, Tessa? I just thought you was family and all.”

  She said the word “Tessa.” Perhaps Keisha’s chattering could help fill in the gaps of what I wanted and needed to know.

  I nodded my head and put a tortilla in my mouth. Sometimes agreeing was the easiest thing to do, but I liked how she was herself. I wondered if I would ever be that comfortable in my own skin.

  My shoulders felt hot. My skin burned red. “Tessa?” I asked in a hushed tone.

  “You better put on some sunscreen. You gonna burn up,” said Keisha, and then lowering her voice, “I’ll tell you more later.”

  It had been many years since I had burned. Working in the orchard, Grandma made me wear long sleeves, a bandanna, and a hat. It never occurred to me I would burn.

  “Sunscreen?” I asked. The word sounded funny, and I hoped I could get her to talk more.

  “Cream…. You know, the stuff that keeps you from burning. You gotta get some cream and some sandals. You can’t make it at the pool without that stuff.”

  Cream. ¿Crema?

  I didn’t quite understand, but I knew I was red, and it hurt.

  “I can share my stuff for a while since you bought me lunch.” Keisha glanced at Jorge, then whispered again, like a juicy piece of gossip, “I never really hung out with Tessa. You know, once she got involved with the gangs.”

  Jorge interrupted and handed me a large plastic cup. “Break over. Give this to Lauren and do another round at the pool.”

  “It’s time for me to go soon anyways,” Keisha said sadly. “I hate swimming by myself.”

  I grabbed my basket and walked back to the pool with her. I put the cup under Lauren’s stand and pointed. I didn’t even bother to talk. She peered down from her seat, and slid her sunglasses back on her face and didn’t say thank you.

  I walked past Flora with the basket. “Are you gonna try to sell me something?”

  “You didn’t want anything the first three times I offered,” I spat back at Flora.

  “Girl, I’m just trying to help you out. Better get your defenses up before you get dragged down to the deep end. Swim now or drown later. I’ll take a soda.”

  I took her dollar and handed her the soda. “Who are you, the lifeguard?”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, in a way, I am. Go away now ’cause I ain’t the library for all your questions.”

  I watched Keisha from the stand. She either stayed in the shallow end or sat under the trees reading. Occasionally, she looked at me and waved. I decided we were friends. When there were no customers, I tore a flimsy grocery bag into strips and twisted them into braids. Flora stayed in her spot and didn’t leave until the pool closed.

  My arms burned bright red, and my eyes felt like I’d rubbed sand into them when Mama returned with Manuela.

  “How was your day?” asked Mama. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and sweat stained her shirt. Jorge counted money out at the truck as Manuela talked a mile a minute about how well my mother had done at the stand.

  “Good.” I didn’t tell her about the swimming part yet. “I worked really hard.”

  She looked so proud. “Me too.”

  “I bet we’ll see Papa here this week.”

  Jorge interrupted by handing me two bills. “Nora, here’s your money. Aurora, here’s your money. We did very well today.”

  Manuela lightly touched my shoulder. “You’ve burned up today. Poor thing!” She reached out to hug me, but I flinched from the burn.

  My brain swirled with thoughts: English, a new friend, and money. I tried to pay Jorge for the meal, but he wouldn’t take a cent.

  Flora emerged from the pool as Lauren locked the gate. She stared at me before turning her head in a different direction.

  Mr. Mann clinked some cans together behind the stand, covered his cart, and disappeared into the afternoon shadows.

  CHAPTER 24

  Still Here

  At home, Mama and I both fell into the bed. It smelled. We smelled.

  I dreamed of Grandma’s food. On long days in the orchard, I felt like this. Burned. Sweaty. Exhausted. I remembered how she made me a cold bath in the tub outside in the horse trough and I would sit in the water until it turned murky. After the bath, I would lie on the cool sheets of my bed and smell the breeze coming through the window. Grandma clanked pots in the kitchen and I could smell her love floating across the house.

  Moist air-conditioning blew across the room, but it still felt warm. Yolanda told us not to open the windows. I wonder how many other people had lived in this apartment before us. Nothing but their broken dreams hung in the air, and they stunk.

  In the bathroom, a large cockroach skittered down the drain when I turned on the light. It didn’t surprise me. Papa had talked about how the big cucarachas were here in Texas. I decided to shower in the morning, and crawled into bed where sleep smothered me with nightmares.

  “Mija, everything is bigger in Texas. The roads. The houses. The market. Even the cockroaches are bigger!” We waited three weeks to be able to talk to him the first time.

  Don’t go. Don’t go. I heard it over and over again, like echoes in a canyon.

  Then I could hear different voices. It sounded like everything was underwater. My mouth hurt, and my tongue felt as dry as sandpaper. I woke up with a shout. “Don’t leave me!”

  Yolanda pounded on our shared wall. “Quit your yelling!” She then turned up her television.

  I moved outside to the steps of the porch. The rays of the setting sun danced away from the window. I used the twisty ties from the bread bags to secure the plastic braids into a small bowl. My stomach growled and my shoulders pulsed from the burn. We were sti
ll in Houston. I wanted to close my eyes and float back to my bedroom in Cedula.

  One thought smoldered in my head: We’d never go back to Mexico now that we were here. I pushed it away from my brain by braiding small strands of my hair.

  I woke up feeling like a piñata that had been covered with papier-mâché. Sticky. Stiff.

  I had felt like this only once before. A large crop of grapefruits had come in from the trees and every hand was needed in the orchard. We couldn’t stop picking and boxing and selling. That was before the water ran out in Cedula. That was before Papa talked about America. It was before the school closed.

  Before. Antes.

  Mama and I headed to the stand before the sun rose.

  Standing by his truck, Jorge scratched at the bald part of his head. “I thought I bought limes. Nora, go buy some!” he said with a flick of the wrist.

  I stopped by Mr. Mann with his morning sandwich. “I made you something for your coins.” I placed the small plastic bowl by his feet, but he showed no emotion.

  Inside the market, I bagged fifty of the best limes I could find. The evil mangoes smirked at me from behind a large display. Last night, I dreamed of fruit and hot trucks. I think I’d rather have cockroaches crawl through my hair than the nightmares.

  At the end of the aisle, I noticed Flora holding a package of lipstick. Her hands slid down her sides and she put the packet into her pocket. She didn’t see me watching as she walked toward the register and then past the manager, who gave her a funny stare. I glared at her from behind a display as she walked toward the front.

  In church, they told us stealing was a mortal sin. Did Flora want to go to hell over a tube of lipstick? In Cedula, we heard stories about a boy who stole once at the market, and the owner sent him to the worst jail, and he didn’t see his family for ten years.

  I fell over the rack I was standing behind and the peanut packages scattered to the floor. The limes spilled out of their bag and rolled toward the checkout. The manager looked up from the desk and walked in my direction.