Where I Belong

by Marcia Argueta Mickelson

  “I wanted to grab something to eat before we left for school,” Dawson says.

  “Morning, Millie.” Charlie directs his attention to me. “You know Dawson?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “I have a guest, Dawson,” Charlie says. “I hope you’re using good manners.”

  Dawson grabs a napkin and wipes watermelon juice from his chin. “Of course,” he says and winks at me.

  Charlie sits down across from us and scoops some oatmeal into a dish. “Dawson’s bumming a ride this morning,” he says to me. “Something’s wrong with his car. What’s wrong with your car today?”

  “Battery’s dead. Want to take me to get a fresh one after school?”

  “Sure,” Charlie says around a mouthful of oatmeal.

  While I chew my oatmeal, I take out my phone and text Chloe to make sure she’s meeting me outside the school. I really need her right now. Usually, I am not a clingy friend, but school feels overwhelming to me; my anxiety kicks in just thinking about it—about everyone watching me, talking about me, talking to me. I don’t think I could do school right now without Chloe.

  “I wish my dad would just buy me a new car already,” Dawson says to Charlie as he continues to polish off the fruit.

  “Ah, Daws. How many new cars have you had since you got your driver’s license?”

  “Three. So what?”

  “So, you wrecked them all. I think I can see why your dad bought you an older car.”

  “Yeah, but it keeps breaking down on me.”

  I get up to wash my bowl and spoon. While I’m at the sink, Charlie says, “So, Millie. After school, I’ll bring you home, and then I guess I’ll have to take Dawson to buy a new battery.”

  “I can get a ride from someone else. Don’t worry about it,” I say, not wanting him to go out of his way for me. I already feel so indebted to his family.

  “No, it’s no big deal. Dawson doesn’t mind.”

  “Yeah, Millie. It’s cool.”

  A few minutes later the three of us walk out the front door toward Charlie’s car. Dawson grabs for the handle of the front passenger side.

  “Hold up, dude,” Charlie says to Dawson. “Let Millie sit in the front.”

  “It’s okay, Charlie. I don’t care,” I say, grabbing the back door handle. In fact, I am more than okay with sitting in the back, unheard, unseen.

  “No, really, Millie. My mom would kill me.” At this point, I would be fine with chivalry being dead, but I let go of the back door handle. I mean, the guy is giving me a ride to and from school every day. The least I can do is spare his life.

  ≈

  As we head up to the school’s main entrance, I see Chloe walking toward us with Ivan and Jay again. All this week, they’ve come to find me in the mornings. It feels good to have friends to focus on, so I’m not self-consciously looking around to see who may be staring at me, talking about me. Dawson fist-bumps Ivan and Jay on his way past. He might hang out primarily with rich white guys like Charlie, but he seems to be on friendly terms with almost everyone in school. Charlie’s like that too, but right now he seems more hesitant than usual. He just nods at Jay and Ivan, gives me an awkward half-wave goodbye, and keeps walking.

  “Hey, Mil,” Jay says. “How’s everybody doing?”

  “We’re all okay. Thanks, Jay.”

  Chloe puts her arm around me, and I feel peace for the first time this morning. “Mil, I miss you on the bus. It sucks now.”

  “Yeah, a lot of things suck now,” I say.

  “At least you have the baby turtles to look forward to in a couple of weeks, right?”

  I’d almost forgotten about the turtle release at the National Seashore. “Yeah . . . I don’t know. I might not be able to get out there this year. Mami might need me to stick around and help with the kids.”

  “It’s at like, the literal crack of dawn,” Chloe says. “The kids won’t be awake. And you are in serious need of some self-care, girl. Speaking of which . . .” She pulls a small bottle of purple nail polish out of her pocket. “When’s the last time you did your toes?” She gestures pointedly down at my flip-flops.

  “Thanks, Chlo.” I take the bottle and read the color at the bottom. Grape Expectations. “It’s perfect. My toes look horrible.”

  ≈

  After school, Charlie drops me off at the Wheelers’ before taking Dawson to get a new car battery. Once again, Mami has the kids at the kitchen table doing their homework. It’s so nice having her around more, one tiny benefit of having our house burn down, if you can look at it that way. Technically, she is still at work. She’s babysitting Caroline as usual, and she’s making dinner at the same time, even though the Wheelers told her she didn’t have to. I smell her black bean soup simmering on the stove the minute I walk in.

  “Hi, Mami.” I walk over and kiss her cheek. “Mind if I do my homework outside?”

  “Está bien, mija.” She hands me an apple and a cheese stick, somehow knowing that I’m hungry—and knowing that I wouldn’t feel comfortable just grabbing something for myself in the Wheelers’ house.

  Suddenly a cupboard door flies open at my feet.

  “Hi, Millie,” Caroline says, popping her head out.

  “Caroline, you scared me,” I say. “What are you doing down there?”

  “Cecilia and I are reading,” Caroline says, opening the door further to reveal Ceci with her book and flashlight.

  I laugh. “Well, good for you.”

  Ceci waves at me, and I wave back before heading outside. I swing the door open, and the wind greets me. It’s not a gentle breeze; it blows my hair across my face. It’s the wind I’ve grown up with. It keeps me company as I sit down at the glass patio table. I welcome the soothing sounds of the waves lapping below as I pull out my calculus homework.

  Within minutes, though, the door opens behind me, and I hear Charlie’s voice. “Millie, someone’s here to see you.”

  I turn around to see Jay following Charlie out onto the patio.

  “Hey, Mil,” Jay says. He’s wearing long shorts and flip-flops, like always.

  “Hi, Jay,” I say, getting up to walk over to him. I’m surprised to see him here, and from the look on Charlie’s face, he is too.

  Charlie lingers off to the side as Jay pulls me in for a tight hug. He smells of sea salt and sunblock, the scents I’ll always associate with him. I know he’s been surfing today, but that’s every day for him. “Thanks, man,” he says to Charlie. Charlie nods at him and goes back inside.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Jay as we sit down on two cushioned patio chairs. I notice he’s holding a small brown paper bag.

  “Just wanted to see how you were doing. You know, I’ve been worried about you.”

  I nod. We are still friends; I guess friends worry about each other. But it still feels strange to have him here, visiting me at the Wheelers’ house.

  “Well, I brought you something,” he says, handing me the small paper bag.

  I reach into the bag and take out a small heart-shaped jewelry box covered in tiny seashells.

  “To replace the one you lost in the fire,” he says. He reaches over to run his finger across the smooth shells. His finger almost touches mine, but he pulls his hand away. He bought me a similar jewelry box for Valentine’s Day last year. He picked it up at one of the little souvenir shops on the island. I was surprised by the gift at the time; I’d been starting to rethink our relationship, but this unexpectedly thoughtful gesture had convinced me not to give up yet.

  “Thanks,” I say, opening the box to reveal a soft red velvet lining.

  “Sorry, I didn’t get you any jewelry to put inside it.”

  “No, of course not. I wouldn’t expect that. I didn’t expect this.” I close the box and clasp it with both hands. “It’s so nice of you, Jay.”

  “I’m just really sorry about the fire, Mil. You’re the last person that should happen to.” He looks out at a pair of seagulls chasing each other over the shore. �
�You’re the best kind of person there is. Nobody should ever do anything bad to you. It makes me mad that someone out there wants to hurt you.”

  I know he means it in the kindest way possible, but I find myself feeling impatient with this flawed logic. “Bad things happen to people all the time.”

  “Yeah, but it makes me mad for what I did to you too.” He tears his eyes from the pair of gulls, who’ve taken off over the water in search of something. “I should’ve treated you better.”

  “Jay, I think we just make better friends than anything else. The relationship stuff—that wasn’t for us.”

  “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Mil. Just let me know whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, Jay.”

  “I’d better go,” he says, standing up.

  “Okay, thanks for coming by. See you at school tomorrow.”

  After Jay leaves, I open the jewelry box again. I try to remember what I kept inside the other one. There was the tiny gold ring Papi gave me for my first Communion and the gold cross necklace Mami gave me. There was also a broken charm bracelet my tia from Houston bought for me. I don’t usually wear jewelry, but those few pieces were special.

  “Hey.” Charlie comes over to sit by me. “Is this your homework station?”

  “Yeah, it’s so nice out here.”

  “I don’t think this yard has ever been used so much, honestly.”

  “Oh, I’d be out here every day if I lived here.”

  “You do live here,” he says. He looks at me for a second before turning his gaze to the playhouse. “Even Caroline hardly ever plays outside. She’s been out here a lot lately, though. She really likes Cecilia.”

  “Yeah, they get along pretty well,” I say, following his gaze. We both keep looking at the house like something might happen, but the girls have yet to emerge since ambling into it almost an hour ago.

  “So, uh,” he says, “you and Jay still together? I thought you two broke up.”

  His question surprises me for two reasons—first, that he’s aware of my relationship status and second, that for some reason he seems to care. It amazes me that he’s paid enough attention to my social life to know that Jay and I were even going out. I peel my eyes off the playhouse and look at him, but his gaze stays on the pink-shingled roof. “Oh, we’re just friends now.”

  He turns to look at me now. “Oh. That’s good—you’re still friends. No nasty breakup?”

  “No. Very amicable. He’s just better friend material than boyfriend material.”

  “Oh,” he says, but I don’t know if he understands.

  “He just came by to see how I was, you know, as a friend.”

  “And he brought you something,” he says, eyeing the small jewelry box I’m still clutching.

  “Yeah, it’s a jewelry box.” I stuff it back into the paper bag and fold the top down.

  “It’s pretty,” he says, not willing to let this conversation die. Can’t he mind his own business, just this once?

  “Yeah, it’s just to replace one he gave me when we were going out. Lost it in the fire, you know.”

  “Right.” He nods. “Sorry.”

  I shrug. I don’t say it’s okay, because I’m not even sure why he’s sorry. Sorry he wouldn’t let the topic dissipate into the sea-smelling air? Or sorry that his father’s overeager mouth is ultimately the cause of my loss? Either way, I don’t want to get into it any further with him. He’s my mother’s employer’s son. Yes, I am staying in his house, and yes, I am in his backyard, but that doesn’t mean that he has a claim on my personal life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On Friday morning, when we’ve been at the Wheelers’ almost a week, I find a new shopping bag sitting on the floor outside the guest room. My name is written on it with a black marker. Inside are three brand-new shirts. I look down the hall, but no one is there, so I go back inside the room and take the shirts out, laying them on the bed. The first one is a dark purple tee with thin black lines. The second is a two-toned purple shirt with three-quarter sleeves. The last one is a thin white blouse with tiny purple polka dots. I check for a note, but there’s nothing.

  I pick up the Dillard’s bag to study the handwriting on the side. It’s familiar; I’ve seen it on school papers.

  My suspicion is confirmed when I walk into the kitchen and Charlie smiles at me.

  “Good morning,” he says between bites of cereal.

  “Did you give me these shirts?” I ask.

  His smile widens. “I hope you like them.”

  Something about the way he says it makes this feel less like his mom’s friends’ charity and more like . . . well, like Jay giving me the jewelry box. “I love them. Thank you.”

  He shrugs. “I noticed that my mom’s friends didn’t get you any purple shirts. They probably didn’t realize that purple’s your favorite color.” He turns back to his cereal.

  “How did you know that?”

  “I think you told me once,” he says.

  That seems unlikely to me, but I’m not sure I want to dispute it. The alternative explanation is that Charlie Wheeler has been paying enough attention to me to notice what color I wear most often.

  “That one looks nice on you,” he says.

  I feel my neck flush with embarrassment. Charlie Wheeler is noticing how I look? Or maybe he’s just being instinctively pleasant, like he is with everyone. “Thanks.” I finally sit down, reach for the cereal and pour myself a bowl.

  He mixes around the cereal in his bowl. “If you’re not busy tonight, you’re still welcome to hang out. We’re just getting pizza and watching a movie. No alcohol, in case you’re worried about that.”

  I stiffen a little with surprise.

  He gives a sheepish smile. “I know your mom is really strict about that stuff. And my dad is too—especially now. With him running for Senate, people are watching him all the time.”

  “I would hate that. Being watched all the time, I mean.”

  “Yeah, sometimes it’s hard, you know, because it puts our whole family in the spotlight. I feel like I have to be on guard all the time, like I can’t mess up.”

  “I think I know how you feel,” I say. I can’t mess up since Mami counts on me so much. It surprises me that Charlie and I have this in common because I always thought that he had it made. That he could do anything, free from the pressures of the family responsibilities that I have. “This whole Senate race must be pretty weird for you in general.”

  “Yeah, it is. But my dad sat down and talked to us all about it before he decided to run. He wanted to know how we felt about it. At the time, I didn’t hesitate. I told him he should do it. He has great ideas—ideas that I’d like to see him put into practice.”

  “And you still feel that way?”

  Charlie shrugs. “Yeah, for the most part. I believe in what he’s doing. He’s going to make a good senator. I don’t always agree with everything he says or does, but I agree with what he stands for, and I really want him to win. I know he can make a difference. I’m just sorry he had to drag your family into it.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “You and me both.”

  We eat in silence for a minute, until Charlie says, “He hasn’t made any public statements about the fire or anything, you know. Or about your family staying with us. He doesn’t want to bring up your family unless he has permission from you and your mom.”

  “Well, good.” I’m not quite done eating, but I stand up and bring my bowl to the sink anyway.

  “Although . . .” Charlie twists in his seat to look at me. I turn my back to him so that I’m facing the sink and shove a last heaping spoonful of cereal into my mouth. I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this conversation is heading. “Personally I think it’d be really helpful if he spoke out about what happened to your family—if he could publicly say how wrong it is, how things have to change.”

  My hands shake slightly as I set the bowl in the sink and turn on the tap. Over my shoulder, I say,
“Helpful to whom, Charlie? To my family? To immigrants in general? Or to your dad?”

  “I—what do you mean?” He sounds completely taken aback.

  I scrub hard at the bowl, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I don’t see how putting my family back in the spotlight would do us any good. But it might boost your dad’s reputation as a champion of immigrants. It might get him more news coverage, because the media loves a personal story from a political candidate. It might score some points for him, with the people who agree with him already. And it will do absolutely nothing to change the minds of the people who hate us.”

  I finish washing my dishes and go to grab my backpack off the floor.

  “I don’t think that’s fair,” says Charlie, sounding more hurt than defensive. “My dad isn’t just posturing. His beliefs don’t make him very popular, but he’s standing by them, and I admire that.”

  “I admire your father for standing by what he believes too, but he chose to do it. I didn’t. And my family didn’t. We’re not interested in being a political talking point.”

  Charlie holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “We agree on that, at least,” I say as I turn to walk outside to the car.

  ≈

  I don’t know how many more days we’ll be here, but I am ready to be out—to be in our own place with only my family. I’ve wanted to ask Mami how much longer, but I’m certain she doesn’t know yet. She still has to meet with the insurance people again to find out how much money we’ll receive. And then she’ll have to find us a new place, which is not an easy task.

  So I don’t ask her. I keep the probing questions to myself; she’ll update me when she’s ready.

  At least dinner has gotten more relaxed. Mr. Wheeler’s out of town campaigning, and Charlie’s home late because of tennis practice, so it’s just Dr. Wheeler and Caroline sitting with us in the big dining room. To my relief, Dr. Wheeler has stopped quizzing each of us about our classes and our summer plans; now she just listens patiently while Ceci recaps the plot of the book she’s reading or Javi describes skateboarding tricks he’s seen people do at Cole Park.