by Anne Schraff
“Naomi, did you tell your mom about meeting your brothers?” Ernesto asked.
“Yeah, I did,” she replied. “She started crying like crazy. She wanted to know how they were doing, are they okay, all that. I told her Orlando is doing great. Manny, not so much. But Manny is gonna be okay. I told her that. I told her that Orlando wants to meet us, including Manny, and go to dinner but that he said she wouldn’t go for that because of Dad.”
Ernesto turned toward the girl. They stopped walking. “And?” Ernesto pressed.
“She’s really nervous about it, Ernie, but she wants to do it. She wants to see her boys with all her heart. Oh Ernie, you’ve done so many favors for me that I hate to ask you for another big one. But I told Mom I’d ask you. If you would drive me and Mom to a restaurant, we could meet my brothers there. Dad wouldn’t have to know anything about it. Mom goes to visit her sister sometimes, and she’s gone for several hours. Dad doesn’t complain about that. She could say she’s going to see her sister, I’m going too, and you’re driving us.”
Naomi’s beautiful eyes fixed on Ernesto’s face. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They made him weak in the knees. He wanted to grab her, kiss her, not let go.
“Sure Naomi,” Ernesto agreed, “I’ll do that for you and your mom.”
“Oh Ernie,” Naomi cried, standing there, face to face with him. In all the time they had been friends, Naomi had never kissed Ernesto. He fantasized about it, yearned for it, dreamed of it. But it never happened—until then. Naomi grabbed him and gave him a big kiss right on the lips. Ernesto thought he was going to have a heart attack, but he didn’t care. He would die happy.
“You’re wonderful,” Naomi sang, over and over.
It was just gratitude, Ernesto told himself. Nothing more than that. Just gratitude. Yet Ernesto had heard sentimental people say that, at momentous points in our lives, we can actually feel the earth move beneath our feet. Ernesto could have sworn the earth not only moved, but rocked back and forth.
Linda Martinez couldn’t call Orlando on his cell phone until Thursday evening, after Felix had gone bowling with his friends. Every Thursday he went bowling with his friends from the barrio, and, while bowling, they had a few drinks. His wife prayed every Thursday night he didn’t have too many to drive safely. Ernesto stopped by, at Naomi’s request, to be with them.
Linda could hear the phone ringing.. .. Someone was answering her call.
“Orlando?” the woman said in a trembling voice.
“Mama!” Orlando shouted. He was a strong man, as strong as his father, as tough as his father, but his voice shook like a little boy’s voice. He had not heard his mother’s voice in three years. “Mama! Is it really you?”
“Yes, Orlando, are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, Mama, yes,” the son assured his mother. “I’m in Los Angeles now. I’m performing with a band. But I’ll be back home to the barrio on the weekend. I’m playing there at the festival at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. I’ll be in town for several days.”
“Orlando, Naomi has a very nice friend, Ernesto—” she began, her voice still trembling.
“Yes, I met him. I like him very much,” Orlando interrupted.
“He said he will drive Naomi and me to meet you and Manny at a restaurant,” Mama explained.
“Maravillosa!” Orlando cried. “We can meet at Los Osos in Old Town. It’s a lovely place. When, Mama?”
“Sunday?” she suggested. “Next Sunday afternoon? I’ll tell your father I’m visiting my sister. He won’t suspect anything.”
“It’s on me, Mama, the whole dinner. Champagne for you and Martinelli’s for Ernesto and Naomi,” Orlando promised.
They finalized the arrangements and said their good-byes. Mrs. Martinez then put down the phone and looked at Naomi and Ernesto. “This Sunday. Los Osos in Old Town. He says it’s nice. I cannot believe this is really happening. I have not seen Orlando in three years, Manny in less than that. I cannot believe I will see mis niños again, take them in my arms . . .” Tears rolled down her face.
Naomi walked over to her mother and gave her a big hug. Then Ernesto and Naomi went outside to play with Brutus. Brutus had been whimpering impatiently, waiting for someone to notice him.
After tossing a ball back and forth to the dog, Ernesto and Naomi sat on a stone bench in the backyard. The yard was beautiful, with climbing red roses and whimsical elves perched on plastic toadstools. There was a patch of green lawn and a koi pond. “Who did all this?” Ernesto asked. “Your brother?”
“No, my father. He loves to do yard work,” Naomi answered.
Ernesto stared at the sly little elves, winking an eye. It was hard to imagine gruff, mean Felix Martinez designing such a display.
“Ernie,” Naomi asked, “have the police got any leads yet about who threw the concrete through your window?”
“They haven’t got back to us,” Ernesto replied. “Could have been random vandalism, I guess. Couple months ago some creeps used BB guns to shoot out a dozen car windows for no reason.”
Naomi was pensive for a moment. Then she said, “Ernie, I hope you don’t, you know, think it was Clay. I mean he’s got his faults, and he’s ticked off and all that. But he’d never do something like that. He’s no criminal, and that was a criminal act.”
“I never really thought it was him,” Ernesto replied, though the thought had crossed his mind. “I figured from the start that it was some gangbanger who didn’t like my dad going around the barrio talking to kids. I thought the creep would be afraid Dad would stumble onto some illegal activity, like drugs. I thought they wanted to scare Dad off from what he’s trying to do. But they were wrong.”
Brutus stirred and trotted over to Ernesto. Ernesto reached down and scratched his head. He seemed to like that.
“You know, Naomi,” Ernesto told her, “Mom got to talk to the artist who’s drawing the pit bull in her book. They were going back and forth on their computers, making changes and figuring out how the dog should look. It was great fun for Mom. I could just see the excitement in her eyes. This is the first really big thing that happened to her in a career kind of a way. Her parents thought she’d be a college professor or something, ’cause she was so smart in school. Then, when she didn’t even go to college, they were disappointed. Mom’s showing us a side of her now that we’ve never seen before, and it’s good.”
“I’m glad for her,” Naomi remarked. “I think a woman should have a career. When she’s just a Mom and a housewife, sometimes she sort of doesn’t have any power. She gets to feel like a nobody. Like in my house, Dad is always ending every discussion with those famous words, ‘I’m payin’ the bills, lady.’” Ernesto smiled at Naomi’s girlish attempt to sound like her gruff dad.
“And he is. He’s generous with Mom, but he always lets her know it’s his money. He doesn’t mind if Mom and I go shopping and bring home lots of bags. But in the end it’s his money and he’s the boss, you know?”
“It shouldn’t be like that, Naomi,” Ernesto objected. “My mom never worked or brought home a paycheck. I guess she’s gonna get a nice advance for the book. But that’ll be the first money she earned on her own since my parents got married. Still, they got this joint checking account, and Mom pays most of the bills. When they have to decide about a big purchase, they discuss it together. When the book is published, though, wow, is she gonna be thrilled. Her parents too. The other night Mom’s mom called and sort of hinted maybe she should use the name Maria Vasquez Sandoval on the book cover. Mom talked it over with Dad, and he said whatever she liked was fine with him. Then Mom grinned and said, ‘The name on the book will be Maria Sandoval, ’cause that’s who I am.’ ” Ernesto’s attempt to sound like his mother tickled Naomi.
“You know what, Ernie?” Naomi asked suddenly.
“What?” Ernesto responded.
“You’re awfully cute, especially when you smile,” she noted. Ernesto felt his face flush.
“I’m glad you guys moved back here, Ernie,” Naomi told him.
“Me too,” Ernesto agreed. “Well, gotta go home. I promised my father I’d help him find a phone. Like every five minutes, new ones are coming out with a zillion new apps. Dad’s a great history teacher, but, when it comes to the new technology, I got him beat there. He’s been wanting a new phone for a while, and he’s looking for the best deal. He wants something voice activated so he can dictate into it.”
Ernesto headed home alone. He kept thinking about Naomi’s words, delivered with such a gorgeous smile. Was she just being nice, or was she finding him more attractive?
When Ernesto got to the end of Bluebird Street, he saw Clay’s Mustang parked there. He was shocked and annoyed. Inside the car, Clay Aguirre was staring down the street at Naomi’s house. Maybe he’d seen Ernesto and Naomi walk down the street together about thirty minutes ago.
Ernesto was tempted to walk over to the Mustang and ask Aguirre whether he knew that stalking was against the law. But he knew he might be just getting into an ugly confrontation that would solve nothing. So he tried to ignore Clay as he passed the car. But as he started to walk down Tremayne, Aguirre got out of the Mustang. “Hey Sandoval,” he yelled.
Ernesto stopped and glared at the other boy, who came toward him. Clay was still bigger and stronger than Ernesto. But Ernesto had a lot more muscle now, and the outcome of any fight wouldn’t be such a no-brainer for Clay. “Yeah, what’s up?” Ernesto asked in an unfriendly voice.
“It ain’t gonna work, dude,” Clay warned him. “Just keep that in mind. You ain’t getting my chick. You can try all you want. You can get ripped and gain weight. But some dude comin’ here a few months ago and popping into Naomi’s life, that isn’t going to make her forget the eight years we had together. Turning on the charm and hanging around her house is just going to make her sick of you even faster. We’re goin’ through a bad time right now, but she’ll come around.”
Ernesto said nothing. He turned on his heel and walked along Tremayne Street toward Wren, with Clay still yelling at his back. “The guy’s getting scared,” Ernesto thought, “that’s obvious. He knows he’s losing Naomi. He’s getting nervous. This smart girl’s taken enough verbal abuse from him. She’s finally wised up. She knows she’s better than that.”
On Sunday afternoon, Ernesto drove to the Martinez house to pick up Naomi and her mother. Zack was in the front yard, playing with Brutus. His mother didn’t tell him about the visit with his older brothers. She wasn’t taking any chances. Zack was pretty loyal to his father. He might just tell him, Mrs. Martinez thought, and she was terrified of the fallout from that. So Zack was told that Ernesto was driving his family to see mom’s sister for a nice long afternoon visit.
“Say ‘Hi’ to Aunt Nina,” Zack waved as the Volvo rolled down the driveway.
As they were going down Tremayne Street, Linda Martinez said, “This is so nice of you, Ernesto.”
“No problem,” Ernesto responded. Naomi was beautiful in a peasant blouse and dark jeans. She wore a turquoise necklace.
He had glanced at Naomi’s mother when she got into the car. She was slim, and at one time she had been very pretty. She now looked very tired. The lines in her face were deep. She wore nice clothes, but she knew so little about fashion that she chose the wrong colors. She never found an attractive way to fix her hair; so it was simply tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore lipstick, but nothing else on her face. Felix Martinez thought too much makeup made a woman look as though she was no good. Mr. Martinez was always faithful to Linda, but he was jealous of her when they were younger. He became uncomfortable when she wore clothes that were too pretty. That was why Naomi didn’t try to help her mother look prettier by giving her advice on makeup and hair. Naomi didn’t want to cause trouble.
Mrs. Martinez was obviously extremely nervous. She sat in the back seat, her hands clasped on her lap. But even though she held them tightly, they trembled. Naomi didn’t sit next to Ernesto, as she usually did. She sat in the back seat with her mother, offering support with an arm around her mother’s shoulders.
“It’s been so long,” Mrs. Martinez sighed.
“Yeah Mom,” Naomi agreed.
“I’d almost given up that I’d ever see them again,” the mother said, shuddering. “When Felix threw Orlando out, they were both like wild animals. It was so terrifying.”
“Orlando looks really good,” Ernesto interjected, trying to move the conversation to more positive things. “He sings great too. He did a solo with the Perez band, and he’s almost as good as Oscar. I think Orlando is going places.”
Suddenly Naomi let out a small gasp of surprise and dismay. “He’s behind us!” she cried.
Linda Martinez screamed, “Not Felix! Oh! God help us!” Her eyes widened in terror.
“No, no, Mom,” Naomi assured her quickly. “It’s Clay Aguirre. He’s been hanging at the house spying on me. He can’t take no for an answer. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore, but he refuses to believe me. Now he’s behind us in his Mustang.”
“You should tell him you’re calling the cops on him. They’ll make him stop stalking you, Naomi,” Ernesto snapped. “This is ridiculous.”
“Oh no,” Naomi objected. “I don’t want to go that far. Just pull over for a minute, Ernie.”
Ernesto pulled to the curb on Tremayne, and Clay parked behind him. Naomi got out of the car and walked back to the Mustang.
“Hey babe,” Clay Aguirre greeted her.
“Clay, stop following us.” Naomi’s voice was sharp. “I mean it. I want you to leave me alone, okay? I’m not kidding, Clay. I’m asking you in a polite way now, but if you don’t stop . . .”
Clay looked stunned. He looked at Ernesto, who had stepped from the Volvo and now stood alongside it in case Naomi needed help. Clay didn’t say a word, but he made a U-turn and gunned the Mustang into retreat. In seconds he was gone.
When Naomi got back in the car, her mother said, “He calls the house all the time. He even asked me if there was something I could do to make you take him back. He’s really in love with you, Naomi.”
“I know, Mom,” Naomi moaned. “But you know what happened. I’ve never had anybody hit me. It was so horrible that I had nightmares for days. Something changed inside me when that happened. I don’t hate Clay. I could never hate him. I just don’t feel the same way about him anymore, and I never could again.”
Mrs. Martinez grew very quiet. She thought back to many years ago when she first started dating Felix. He was a handsome boy and very macho. All the girls were crazy about him. At the time, a very sensitive boy named Jaime liked Linda too. He wore glasses, and he was good in math. Felix and his friends made fun of Jaime. He was a wonderful target. Felix’s friends ridiculed him without mercy, and Linda remembered she laughed too. Boys expected their girlfriends to laugh at their antics. Even at that time it was very important for Linda to please Felix.
Jaime went on to become a doctor. Now he was married with four children and living in Texas. Sometimes Linda Martinez wondered what her life would have been like if she’d married Jaime instead of Felix. Linda was friends with the girl who eventually married Jaime. Her name was Emily, and even now the two families exchanged Christmas cards. In the photographs that came in the cards, Emily looked so happy there in Texas with Jaime and their children. They were always smiling and cutting up on their Christmas pictures. Emily didn’t look like she was ever afraid of Jaime. Perhaps she was even the boss in the family, and he would be okay with that. He was that kind of a guy. He wasn’t ever very macho.
Linda Martinez remembered to this day the first time Felix slapped her. They had been dating for about six months. He claimed she was paying too much attention to another boy. Felix called her bad names, and he slapped her in the face. Linda could still remember the salty blood in her mouth. After all these years, she still could feel the sting of pain.
Mrs. Martinez was aware that Clay Aguirre hit Na
omi, and she wasn’t too shocked. Clay was a lot like Felix at that age—very macho. A boy had to be macho, and sometimes that meant getting a little rough with a girl. Roughness only went to prove how much he loved the girl, didn’t it? If Felix hadn’t loved Linda back then, why would he have become so angry because she was smiling at another boy? And if Clay Aguirre didn’t love Naomi, he would not have struck her in rage when she paid a compliment to another boy. Clay obviously loved Naomi. Linda Martinez wasn’t sure whether Naomi was doing the right thing in ending their relationship. Turning away from so strong a love was a very big decision.
Linda clasped her hands even more tightly. If she had married Jaime, she didn’t think she would be afraid so much—or maybe not at all. She looked at her beautiful daughter. With a sudden rush of love for the girl, she was glad that she had stopped dating Clay Aguirre. Naomi was right, she thought. When fear lurked in love, it was no longer love.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As they neared Old Town, Linda Martinez murmured in a small, sad voice. “They must hate me. I remember the last words Orlando spoke to me. Felix was throwing his possessions out on the front lawn. Orlando looked at me with those black eyes of his and he said, ‘Mama, you’re choosing him over me. Mama, how can you choose him over me? I’m your child.’ He kept screaming that at me.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” Naomi said consolingly. “Orlando understands. He doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He and Manny want to see you so much.”
Ernesto felt sorry for Mrs. Martinez. She had lived in anxiety and fear for so long that she did not know how to be happy, how to hope. She expected the worst. Ernesto glanced into his rearview mirror. Clay Aguirre wasn’t following them anymore. Ernesto turned onto the freeway ramp. They would be in Old Town in no time. Los Osos turned out to be a two-story stucco building with a red tile roof. A series of wooden hitching posts for horses out front made it look like the old days. Ernesto pulled into the parking lot, got out, and opened the door for Naomi and her mother.