“Mom,” said Gus, “your husband messes with our heads all the time. Why don’t you lecture him?”
“Ahh,” said their father, “where’s the harm in a little sugar high? What they don’t know can’t hurt them. Think of all the chemicals we eat in our food.”
“What kind of reply is that?” she asked. “Are you saying that just because we don’t know what’s in our food it’s not going to hurt us?”
“If it’s not one thing that gets you, it’s something else.” His father took a large bag of pork rinds, felt around, and held up the biggest one he could find. “So you might as well …” His final words of wisdom were drowned out by the loud crackling.
As his father went through his antics, it occurred to Gabriel that perhaps he should tell the Borrados about their father’s treats. If the effect was, in fact, mostly mental, the truth might take the wind out of their sails.
Gus, though, had already hatched another plan. “Suppose that on any given day either Gabi or I beat the smallest Borrado.”
“That’s horrible!” said their mother. “Why would you beat him up? And the smallest one at that?”
“I mean out-pick him, Mom.”
Paula gave a derisive snort. “That’ll be the day.”
Gus, armed with the same tenacity he put to good use in sports, managed a supreme effort to ignore her in order to keep the pressure on his father. “Here’s the deal, Dad. If we do beat them, then you treat us to Disneyland on the way back home.” He put out his hand and added, “Do we have a deal?”
Their father, sniffing for the trap on a technicality, tried to hedge with a vague reply until their mother pushed him back into the arena. “A couple of days’ play for weeks of hard work,” she said. “Sounds more than fair. How can you lose?”
“That’s right,” said Gabriel. “Everybody wins.”
When their father reluctantly stuck out his hand, Gus grabbed it before he could reconsider.
“Wow,” said Paula. “This is history in the making. I only wish I had film in my camera.”
Sensing they were on a roll, Gabriel quickly added, “Don Pilo also treats them to the pool on Saturdays. Like a little job perk. I guess it gets them motivated. It might do the same for us.”
“Let them have it, Dad,” said Paula. “If nothing else, it’ll get them clean. They’re starting to stink like goats.”
“Why you’d want to go there is beyond me,” said their father. “There’s a perfectly good canal close by. I heard some of the boys go skinny dipping.”
Their mother came over and tapped him on the head with her work bonnet. “Don’t encourage them to go there! That’s where some boys drowned last year. They were no older than Gustavo.”
“That may be true, but what’s also true is that they figured they were old enough for a few beers.”
“Is that what did it?”
He gave her a peeved look, as if even asking strained the obvious. “By the time they went under they were already half-drowned in alcohol.”
Before the conversation could drift any further, Gabriel repeated his request for a day trip to the municipal pool. By now his father seemed so confident of the larger odds that he agreed to that too, on one condition.
“Fine. I’ll even buy you swimming trunks. Then I’ll pay the admission and drop you off at the gate. How’s that?” He added one condition. “After that it’s up to you two grackles to stay inside.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked their mother.
“Oh, nothing, just something a little bird told me.”
Paula, also in the know, smiled. “Let’s just say nobody could confuse my brothers for the Borrados.”
“Who’d want that in the first place?” asked Gabriel.
“Who wouldn’t?” she answered. “They’re like cute leprechauns.”
Their mother, trying to open a can of peaches, asked innocently, “You said they’re like lepers?”
Gus laughed. “You said it, Mom! That’s how all the other guys treat them.”
“I meant like elves, Mom. Fairies.”
This time Gus practically howled. “They’re fairies, all right!”
“Maybe,” said Paula, “but they kick your butts in the field, so what does that make you?”
It took Gus a while to recover from her withering smile. “Why do you bother defending them?”
“Because they’re so fragile. Their skin’s like …”
“Touch them sometime,” said Gabriel. “I’ll bet they’re slimy as snails.”
“Speaking of snails,” said Paula, “I can’t wait to bet against you guys.”
Gabriel first made sure their parents were out of earshot. “Then you’d better go kiss their albino butts for good luck.”
“That’s right,” said Gus. “First you go kiss their butts and then afterward we’ll kick them.”
As always, Paula had the last word. “Now who believes in fairy tale endings?” She raised her voice for the benefit of their parents. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re trying to follow in their footsteps. It’s too bad you’ll be trailing them by a country mile. But at least you’ll be in the right place and in perfect position.” She made a silent kissing gesture. Then, making sure their parents weren’t watching, she turned her own rear toward her brothers, as if inviting them to kiss it.
They had already prepared their cots when Gabriel heard his father say from across the partition, “To look at at the Borrados, you wouldn’t give ten bucks for the lot.” Gabriel almost reminded him he and Gus were still awake when his father added, “You can’t even call any one the runt of the litter, since the whole litter came out runts. But get them out on the field and they’re like greyhounds on a track.”
“Just goes to show,” said their mother, “looks can deceive.”
His father glanced out the window, toward the darkness of Don Pilo’s place. “No wonder they’re already roosting by dusk. One thing I know for sure, they didn’t get that energy from their old man.”
“I’m sure he’s worn out from having to put them to bed each night. At least he’s harmless. He’s the only man who can talk to Mrs. Serenata without her husband getting insanely jealous.”
His father shook his head, as if in reproach. “What that woman has that is worth protecting is beyond me. I have to say, between our two neighbors Don Pilo definitely got the better deal. No nagging wife—”
“You can say that again.”
“And three hardworking kids.”
“They say she worked herself to an early grave, leaving the poor Borrado to raise their hyperactive sons.”
“I suppose it’s no harder than raising lazy ones,” he said.
“But imagine having to harness all that energy …”
“I wouldn’t mind, not if I could harness all the money that comes with it. Hell, look at us. We ended up harnessing two nags. All we get is their constant whining.”
Gabriel had stayed glued to the conversation, waiting for the inevitable putdown. “I heard that,” he said, banging on the pegboard partition.
“Get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
“I don’t think they’ll last that long,” said Paula. “I give them two rounds at most. Dad, you’re the one who needs to rest. I’ll bet that by noon you’ll have to drag them out of the field feet first.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Gabriel called out. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Oh, of course!” said his mom. “Well, all the more reason to rest. That way you’ll make full use of the day.”
In his mind the fact that his father had agreed to buy them trunks and pay the pool admission somehow enhanced the odds that he might have to make good on the much bigger bet. “So what time are you taking us to the pool, Dad?” He waited, believing that his father was mentally checking his own Saturday schedule, but there was only silence. Since it was too soon for him to have already fallen asleep, Gabriel began to worry that he might renege. “Dad? Dad?”
> “Please,” said Paula, “will somebody get up and give the baby his bottle?”
Gabriel ignored her. “Dad? What time?”
“Well, what time do the stores open for those swim trunks?”
“About ten, I think.”
“Then ten it is. Then I’ll drop you off at the pool before noon. I’ll even wait outside to pick you up when they throw you out.”
“Dad.” It was Paula, who he acknowledged with an absentminded hmm. “Just don’t buy those trunks with loud colors. We don’t want them to … stand out. Get them some pastels instead.”
They shared a conspiratorial chuckle. “You’re right,” he answered. “We’ll have to tone down that tan.”
11
Earlier that week, Gabriel and his family had been looking forward to going to town together that Saturday. But they had been around each other in the fields and in the claustrophobic shack for so long that by the time the weekend arrived, they agreed to go in different directions. Even Paula, who had decided to join their mother at the movies, couldn’t wait to blot out every face in the darkened theater.
Yet once they reached the town limits, their mother made one last pitch for togetherness. “Boys, are you sure you wouldn’t rather see a movie? After all, the water in that pool isn’t going anywhere.”
“Actually, it is,” said Paula. “I hear they drain the pool Sunday nights.”
“Why is that?”
“It has something to do with migrants swimming there on the weekend,” said Paula. “I guess people of color turn the water a little dingy.”
“At least they time it right,” said their father with the same cynical tone. “They start the week with clean water and let it get dirty. Then they let the raza come in and put the finishing touch, the ring around the rim. That’s what the Anglos used to do back home when I was a kid.”
“Dad,” said Gabriel, “you’re not talking your way out of this one.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m just saying that maybe the movies are a better choice.” Yet underneath the feigned concern in his voice was a hint of someone attempting reverse psychology, knowing that the boys would do the opposite.
“Mom, Dad,” Gabriel corrected them, “down here in the sticks they call them pitcher shows.”
“It’s a double feature,” said his mother.
“You know why? Because neither one’s a first run.”
“If they’re showing the same ones from the last time we were in town—” Gus started to say.
“You know they are,” said Gabriel.
“Then I already saw both back home,” said Gus, “way back during spring break. I’m not sitting through that again.” He turned to Paula. “Look, I’ll save you some money and tell you how it ends.”
“Don’t you dare! I’m in the mood for a movie and no one’s going to ruin it. Any good, old-fashioned picture show will do. I’d even go see one of those old silent movies. I spent every day in that harsh sun and every night listening to you guys whining. Now I’m going to chill out in some air conditioning, like a bat in a dark cave.” Her anticipation was so vivid that she revealed the gooseflesh on her arms.
She was also hoping to get under her older brother’s skin, and the tactic proved so enticing that he ended up arguing back. “I’ll bet she’s meeting her Borrado boyfriend in the theater,” he told Gabriel.
“I don’t blame her. What girl would want to be seen with him in broad daylight? Anyway, he shouldn’t be hard to find. He’s so pale he glows in the dark.”
“Actually,” she replied, “you guys are more likely to bump into them. Maybe you can even race a few laps against them. Just for practice.” She squeezed Gabriel’s left bicep before he had a chance to make it taut. “You know, to start getting in shape for the championship round.”
After shopping for swimming trunks and leaving the women in front of the theater lobby, their father drove Gabriel and Gus to the pool. He was about to pull away when Gus reminded him, “Didn’t you say you’d wait for us?”
“I think I’ll find a watering hole of my own.”
“Remember,” Gabriel called out from the other side of the turnstile. “It’s not quite noon yet. Maybe the bars aren’t open.”
“Yeah, Dad, don’t get all paranoid and think they’re trying to keep you out.”
The pool water was still a few degrees short of tepid, so they sat on the edge and dipped their legs to acclimate. Gus seemed anxious to dive in, but for the time being Gabriel was content to paddle his legs in the water the same as in the canal.
“Say, Gus, I see the Borrados over there.” He tuned out his brother’s mumbled curses, and for a moment he almost felt like a member of an exclusive country club.
“Well, I don’t want them around us, so ignore them. Come on, let’s start a little action around here.”
“What’s the hurry? Let’s get the lay of the land first.”
“What for? I’ve got everyone here figured out.” He pointed out the assorted Anglo cliqués, as well as the smaller clusters of migrant kids. “Just remember the first rule of psy ops. Don’t let your enemy control the field of battle. Put him on the defensive.”
“Since when have Anglos been your enemies? We’re not here to fight, Gus. We’re here to have a good time.”
“Exactly,” he said and dived in.
Gabriel slipped into the shallow end while Gus wasted no time challenging two Anglo teens as tall as he to a lap race. When they gave him the once-over and turned him down with disdain, he started to ask again, but the lifeguard chirped his whistle and motioned him to keep quiet. Gabriel and Gus looked at one another across the water and wondered with simultaneous shrugs why, in the midst of the pool’s commotion, he had been singled out.
Soon Gus recovered his self-confidence and swam over to a small gaggle of local girls. Gabriel, still by the shallow end, couldn’t make out the conversation, but noticed when the oldest girl began playfully splashing Gus, he responded with a cautious splash of his own.
“Quit it!” she laughed.
Suddenly the lifeguard blew his whistle again, harder this time, as several migrant kids ducked underwater, leaving only hanks of shiny black hair on the surface. Even the Borrados, sitting along the edge, wrapped their towels around their thin frames like roosting bats.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” The lifeguard pointed straight at Gus, then at a sign beside the diving board. “Can’t you read?”
Gus grinned at the girls, then at the lifeguard. “Sure. You need someone to read it for you?”
It was a sophomoric retort, one that the towheaded young man could have defused easily with another reprimand. Instead he plodded along the rim of the pool and nearly slipped twice, which only made him madder. He reached Gus, who was still smiling and oblivious to his rage.
“You’re out of here!”
“Hey, guy, take it—”
“Right now!”
At that moment, one of the migrant boys who had come up for air assessed the situation and promptly dove under again.
“Right now!” he repeated. “Or I’m calling the cops!”
Gus pushed himself out from the pool in a single thrust. The guard must have been expecting a slight migrant like the Borrados, because when the glistening dark body hunkered in front of him, his fear eroded the little reason he had left. “I don’t want any trouble. Just get your things and get out.”
“Why? I just got here.”
“Can’t you read?”
Gabriel held his breath, afraid that his brother would repeat the silly reply. He did not, but the damage had already been done. “You mean the stuff about horseplay? Look, I took lifeguard lessons too—”
His remark, less a boast than an attempt to find common ground, only led to the Anglo turning on his heels and waddling away.
Gus took his towel and walked straight to the exit without a word and looked straight ahead. When the lifeguard saw Gabriel follow him, he did not even bother adding that the expulsion d
id not apply to him. For their part the girls who had been talking to Gus now basked in their reflected infamy, utterly indifferent to the injustice.
For a time, both brothers roamed the town like two mutes, in an inseparable and silent suffering. But it was still early afternoon—Gabriel figured his mother and sister were still watching the first feature—so he suggested getting a bite to eat.
Gus, still gnawing at his humiliation, could only answer with a cliché: “How can you think of food at a time like this?”
“How can you think of anything else? We haven’t eaten all day.”
When hunger finally got the better of Gus, he wondered aloud whether the restaurants only served Anglos.
“There’s one way to find out,” said Gabriel. “At least they’ll turn us away before taking our money.”
“What about there?” Gus pointed to a fast-food place. “After what we’ve been eating, it’ll be like a four-star restaurant.”
They both devoured their burgers and fries, even as Gus looked over his shoulder a time or two, suspecting that someone might ask them to leave. Gabriel was right, though it was the closest to a back-home meal they had eaten in a long time. Their mother tried her best, but she lacked the little extras like napkins and ice, sometimes even the basics like enough chairs or a sturdy table.
The best part was that no one bothered them. The workers, mostly Anglos, were courteous. After placing a second order, Gus even considered hoarding an additional order of fries for the road. Gabriel talked him out of it, pointing out that they would turn soggy by the time they returned to camp. In the end, they settled for refilling their soft drinks with plenty of ice.
Having nothing to do until the double feature was over, they window-shopped along Main Street to walk off their meals. This time, with a full stomach and a more pleasant encounter with the locals, Gabriel had a more positive view of the place, despite the occasional store-owner who stared out with suspicion. Finally he paused by a store window. “Aren’t you going to send your girl a postcard from here?”
Gus glanced down Main Street one way, then the other. He did not have to look far either way. “What for? It’s nothing to write home about.”
A So-Called Vacation Page 9