The other woman shook her head after Michael was out of earshot. “Drunk again.”
“I guess the Mexican woman didn’t change him that much.”
The women twittered.
Later in the party, Michael lounged on the steps of the staircase and half-watched guests form a conga line of jiggling hips and bosoms. He was a ghost among these ghosts. Earlier in the evening, he had given in and danced with Jenny after she had pestered him. She’d kissed his neck almost as a reward and told him he was the most handsome man at the party. The compliment only made him feel more of a phantom, a missing person in a nice tux.
Michael sat down on the bottom step of the staircase, away from most of the party.
“Mike boy, how the hell are you?”
Norman Reynolds tilted so far, Michael was tempted to reach out and push the tax attorney upright. “Not bad, Norm. You certainly are celebrating.”
“I’m drunk.”
“Not you.” Michael shook his head sarcastically.
Norman slapped Michael’s back. “That’s what I like about you. You’re such a goddamn smart-mouth.”
“And I like you because you don’t bullshit like the rest of them.”
“Everyone is afraid of me because I hold the fate of their taxes in my hand.” Norman giggled. Red veins plumped up by gin etched his nose and cheeks. He flopped down beside Michael on a step. “Nice party. Lots of free booze. I wouldn’t be surprised if your father’ll try to claim the alcohol as a tax deduction. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Martin much this evening.”
Michael shrugged. “He’s around.”
Sitting next to Michael, Norman pointed his finger to the top of the staircase. “There he is.”
With both hands on the railing, Martin inspected the party like a conqueror.
“He cuts quite the figure, doesn’t he?” Norman said.
“I suppose so.”
Norman stared at Michael, squinted his eyes at Martin and back again to Michael. “I swear to God, Mike, you’re getting to be the spitting image of your old man.”
“What?”
“Pretty soon, you’ll be standing at the top of those steps. The master of all you survey. Michael Shaw.” Using Michael’s shoulder as a crutch to help him stand, Norman left in search of another drink.
Michael rose and gazed at himself in a round ornate mirror near the stairs. “Fuck me.” He ran up the stairs.
“Having a good time?” Martin said.
“We need to talk.” Michael’s tone was urgent and tilting toward dangerous.
“I have guests.” Martin took a step down.
Michael stepped in front of him. “Screw the guests.”
His father coughed in vexation. “In my study.” He headed upstairs, with Michael following.
After lighting his cigar, Martin leaned against his large desk. The party noise of talk and music became a rush of air beneath their feet. “What could be so important?”
Michael, who stood by the door, walked with deliberation toward his father. “I wanted to tell you I’m quitting the firm.” His voice quivered.
“What are you talking about?” Martin’s face was that of a man who had heard a joke but didn’t know if it was funny.
Michael straightened up. The quiver left his voice. “I said I’m leaving.”
“You’re drunk.” He crushed the cigar out in an ashtray and stood.
Michael’s hands were in tight balls. “I’m not drunk, but I am the A-number-one sap of all time.”
“I have a party to host. I’m not wasting my time with this.”
The son shoved his father into an overstuffed chair.
“You must be losing your mind,” Martin said. His cheeks heated red.
Michael placed his hands on the chair arms and leaned in so close, he smelled his father’s cigar breath. “If I killed you right now, I could claim it was self-defense. Who’d blame me? I’d wager nobody who’s ever met you. A jury might even give me a fucking medal.”
“Oh, my God.”
Michael took a chair across from his father. “Of course, that argument of self-defense didn’t work for María Curry, who really and truly deserved it. Who knows? Maybe I might get away with it, especially after what you and that asshole Herb Bell did to Toni.”
The color in Martin’s cheeks weakened. His chest rose and fell rapidly. For a moment, Michael feared he might cause a repeat of his father’s heart problems. The fear dissipated as Martin clutched the arms of the chair and stared straight ahead in fury.
“No one can talk to me like that. Who do you think you are?”
“Your son. The funny thing is, you probably would like Toni. She made something out of nothing, while I had everything and did shit.”
“That’s not true. You lead a full and rich life.”
“Your definition of ‘rich’ and mine are on opposite sides of the universe.”
“Go to her, and you’ll have no job, no friends and no future. You’ll be an outsider.”
Michael got to his feet. Grabbing his father’s jacket, he yanked him up from the chair. They were face to face. “An outsider, eh? That’s no big deal, Father. I’ve been one all my stinking life.”
“She can’t give you anything.”
“You’re so fucking wrong.” Michael pulled down on his father’s jacket and brushed off his lapels.
Martin appeared confused.
“Now go back to your party and get the hell out of my sight,” Michael said.
With a minor touch of sluggishness to his usual stride, Martin headed to the door. When he closed it behind him, Michael took off his tie. His body had substance again, and he wavered from the heft of it. He dried his forehead with the arm of his tux. Someone hummed behind him.
Jenny stood in the doorway between the study and a small library. “I couldn’t find you.”
“How long were you there?”
“Long enough.” She sounded tranquil. She walked up to Michael and slapped him. Then she slapped him again. Her hand stung, and she began to feel silly.
Michael didn’t try to stop her. He deserved everything.
“I guess I should scream or throw things. Isn’t that what I should do, like in the movies? I’ll bet Lana Turner or Joan Crawford would throw things.”
“I’m a no-good husband.”
“You really are.”
He took her hands. “I’m sorry, if that means anything.”
“Wedding ring or not, you never really belonged to me, but I kept it hidden in the back of my heart. I hoped you’d change your mind and fall madly in love with me. I was too dumb to see anything.”
“You’re not dumb.”
Jenny took off her high heel and rubbed her arch. “I finally got my dream house, and everything goes to hell.”
He grinned. “I’ve never heard you say ‘hell’ before.”
“It’s a good word.”
“The best.”
“What do we do now, Michael?”
“Find our way. You’ll have to find yours, Jenny. Not to please me or your mother. But for you.”
“How do we do that?”
He laughed. “Fuck if I know.”
“He’s going to cut you off from everything. Are you scared?”
“So much I can hardly budge.”
“You’re going to her, aren’t you?” she asked shyly.
“If she’ll have me. She may not.”
“Well, I don’t have a college degree and all that education, but I’m not stupid enough to hold onto you against your will.”
“Thank you, Jenny girl. I’ll be generous with you, that’s if I have anything left. I quit my old life a few minutes ago.”
She smiled a bit and put on her shoes. “My mother will beg me to take you to the cleaners in divorce court. I don’t think I will. No, sir.” She smiled a bit more. Outside the door, people cheered, and the band played “Auld Lang Syne.”
“It’s midnight,” he said. He had forgotten about the guests.<
br />
“This is going to be one party nobody will forget. Least of all, me and your dad,” she said. “Michael, can you do me one favor?”
“What is it?”
“Can we leave together?”
He nodded. “I’m not a complete asshole.”
“Not completely.”
“Jenny, you’re going to do all right.”
Taking her hand, Michael opened the door of the study. The music and noise from the party almost knocked them back. Michael told Jenny he had one thing to do before they left and asked her to wait near the front door.
Ducking and moving like a football player among the guests, Michael made his way to the kitchen. He found Josita vigorously wiping the counter with one hand and directing the workers with the other. She grinned when she saw him. “Mr. Michael, you need something?”
“I wanted to tell you adiós. I don’t know if I’ll see you again for a long time.”
She stopped wiping. “You going somewhere, Mr. Michael?”
“You might say that. I wanted to say thank you for taking care of me all those years, above and beyond your pay.” Michael hugged her. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I will miss you.”
He kissed her cheek and walked out the door.
51
TONI WOKE UP WITH COLD FEET and a headache, not so much from the feel of the day, but from her dream. In the dream, she wore a pretty summer dress and sat in a meadow surrounded by desert. On a green hill rising out of the meadow, she saw her father. Waving her arms frantically, she called his name, although no sound came from her throat. He took no notice of her. As the sky became orange with sunset, he finally saw her, smiled and walked down the other side of the hill. No matter how fast she ran, she could not catch up to him.
When she awoke, Toni tried to rub away the blunt ache at the back of her neck. She smelled the scent of coffee rising from the kitchen. Downstairs, Carmen sat at the table.
Toni yawned. “Morning.”
“Hi.” Carmen’s voice was rough as coffee grounds.
“I have to work this morning, but I’ll come to the hospital about three.”
“That’s good. I’ll stay until you get there, then I’ll come home and cook dinner. After that, we can both go back and tell Pops good night.”
“Deal.”
The hollows under her sister’s eyes became darker, just like hers. “How about corn flakes, Carmen?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then feed your baby.”
“Okay, pour me a bowl of corn flakes.”
Colorful cardboard cutouts of Santa and his reindeer, cheery snowmen and fat snowflakes decorated the hallways and the nursing station. Whenever she walked past them, Toni wanted to rip down the decorations. No one should be happy when her father was so sick.
Carmen sat beside their father’s bed reading Life magazine. His eyes were closed, and the plastic oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. Carmen put her finger up to her lips when she saw Toni.
Removing her coat, Toni whispered, “How is he?”
Carmen tipped her hand back and forth. Toni sat down on the other side and opened a book about Emiliano Zapata she had picked up from the library to read to her father. Carmen stood up and stretched, her belly round and full.
Francisco’s eyes fluttered. He muttered something in Spanish. His daughters drew near to listen. In the past few days his mind had landed on places and times outside the hospital room.
His eyes opened. “My girls.”
They leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“I feel so sweaty.” He pulled down the oxygen mask.
Carmen touched his head, which felt cool and moist. “We’ll help you, Pops.”
Toni filled a small pan with warm water. They both wiped his face and arms with a cloth and dried him with a towel, all with movements slow as a ritual.
“Thank you.” Francisco again closed his eyes. He reached out his hand, as if to lead them somewhere. “I feel so much better.” His voice was low. In a few minutes, he was asleep.
At six in the evening, Víctor didn’t see Francisco’s truck or Toni’s car. Usually, Carmen managed to come home and fix him dinner. The one time she hadn’t was a few days ago, when Francisco had choked until his lips went blue. A priest had been called for the Last Rites. But the old man recovered, although he was weaker than ever. Víctor washed quickly and changed his clothes to go to the hospital. On the way, he ate a ham sandwich he had made. His nails were still greasy from the garage where he worked.
At the hospital, Víctor sprinted up the steps to the third floor and then slowed. Carmen was crying in the hall. He enfolded her in his arms.
In the hospital room, Francisco lay in the bed, his hands folded. To one side, Toni sat in a chair, holding a book, her voice steady as she read to him.
52
VOICES ON THE OTHER SIDE of the closed door were hushed and respectful. Still, Toni dug into the covers on her father’s bed. Since he’d died she couldn’t get warm. No matter how much she blew on fingertips, wore socks or drank hot coffee.
“Toni’s resting,” someone said outside the door.
She watched the lights in the votive candles on her father’s dresser. The wavering illumination made Jesus’ blessed heart seem to radiate about the room. Toni wiggled her toes to warm them, making Oscar stir.
Her father’s rosary was an hour away.
Weeks before, Francisco had informed her and Carmen they wouldn’t have to pay for his funeral. After their mother had passed, he’d had to borrow money for burial costs. He wanted to spare his daughters, so he had started paying the Valdez Funeral Home twenty dollars a month for a casket of dark wood that would be placed in the same plot as their mother’s, as well as all the fixins, as he called them.
Toni snuggled in the blanket, which still smelled of her father—a combination of Old Spice and a little sweat. The voices outside the door grew louder as more relatives and friends arrived with food and condolences. Toni put her arms around herself.
The morning of his last day, Francisco had smiled at Toni and Carmen and begun talking. Toni lifted away the oxygen mask.
“Can we do anything for you, Pops?” Carmen said.
“I’m not afraid.”
“I know, Pops. You’re the bravest man I know,” Toni said.
“I’ve been worried my mamá and Maricela won’t recognize me when I pass on. They’ll be younger, and I’m an old man.”
“They’ll know you,” Toni said. “I promise they will, especially mom.”
“That’s good.” He closed his eyes. They never opened again.
Aunt Lucille peeked inside the bedroom. “Antonia. You better get ready. The rosary starts in a half an hour.”
“Thank you, Auntie.”
At church, the priest led the mourners through the decades of the rosary, saying Hail Marys and Our Fathers on the evening before the burial. He started the prayer: “Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.”
“Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.” The mourners finally ended their prayers.
Concentrating on the glass beads in her hands and on saying the prayers, Toni did not want to see the open casket, although Mr. Valdez was a talented undertaker. Their father could have been taking a nap. The kind of nap from which he would never awake. He wore the suit he had bought for Carmen’s wedding. Sitting beside her, Carmen couldn’t even pray. Her mouth was open, her lips dry.
Later at their house, relatives, compadres and friends gathered, eating and talking, some even a little drunk. Toni watched from the backyard.
So familiar a scene.
She smoked her cigarette, while Oscar put his small head on one of her shoes.
After everyone had left, Víctor went to bed, leaving Carmen and Toni sitting at the kitchen table. Toni leaned in to to touch Carmen’s hand. “You tired?”
“A little. You
?”
“A little.”
Carmen rubbed one side of her belly. “I pray my baby won’t come out sad.”
“You don’t have to worry. That baby will never be sad. Not with a mommy like you.”
“And an aunt like you.”
Carmen stood up. “I’m going to bed. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Toni lit another cigarette and paced the room. With Oscar at her heels, she walked to the little house. She hadn’t spent much time there in the last weeks, instead sleeping in her dad’s bed while he was at the hospital. Switching on the light, she smelled the dust. She smelled Michael, too. Oscar went to the pillow in the corner. As he was about to lie down, she whistled to him and flicked off the light.
The following morning, Toni and Carmen stood by the casket, which had been placed near the door of the church. Each person who entered touched Francisco’s hand or made the sign of the cross over his body. Toni peeked inside the church; it was almost full. Her father would have been happy at the attendance.
After looking at his pocket watch, mortician Bob Valdez told the sisters it was time to start. That meant one last look at their father’s remains, because the coffin would be closed during the Mass.
“Oh, Pops. Don’t leave us.” Carmen sobbed and threw her arms on his chest. Her grief caused a rush of more tears from the packed church. Víctor and Toni pulled her away.
Toni kissed her father’s lips, which were solid as the steel he made. She swallowed air and stroked his hair. “I’ll never say good-bye.”
Aunt Lucille took her arm and led her to the front of the church.
In a dark cowboy shirt and pants, Sammy Flores sang of loss and prayer as the Mass began. Throughout, Toni shivered, although she wore her heavy wool suit. She wet her lips with her tongue, which felt so sticky. Carmen’s eyes were wide and fixed. Occasionally, Toni took her sister’s hand to convince herself Carmen hadn’t slipped away, too. The incense and flowers turned the air sweet and dense.
During the Mass, Toni followed along and prayed at the right time. She gave the right responses and kneeled with everybody else. But her motions were disconnected from her heart. Inside, she was as dead as her father.
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