Marcus Vega Doesn't Speak Spanish

by Pablo Cartaya

  “The coquí,” Sergio says. “That little frog has made its way into our art, poetry, and music for centuries.”

  “That’s a frog?” I ask, listening.

  “Yes, it’s saying, ‘co-kee, co-kee.’” Sergio imitates the strange frog’s sound. “That’s where it gets its name.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Mom asks. “It’s like they’re singing to us.”

  It’s a little creepy listening to the singing frogs as it gets darker, but I don’t say anything.

  Sergio takes us to a little area near the barn where my mom has to stand on a haystack to get reception.

  “When the hay is used to feed the cows and horses, there is no cell service,” Sergio jokes.

  My mom finds a signal and calls Tío Ermenio. She tells him we’re staying the night and that we’ll call him first thing in the morning. I guess she doesn’t want him to worry. Mom hangs up, hands me the phone, and hops down from the haystack.

  She smiles awkwardly. “Adventure?”

  A sleepover at our cow-murdering great-aunt’s farm in the middle of nowhere with little singing frogs “co-keeing” everywhere. What’s not adventurous about that?

  We go back inside, where Darma is already plating our dinner. It’s a dish called asopao. It’s like a tomato rice soup with chicken and lots of vegetables. Actually, that’s exactly what it is.

  Charlie doesn’t seem to mind being here. Darma continues chatting with him while she sips from a gigantic coffee mug.

  Finally, she tells us all that it’s time for bed. She doesn’t give us an option.

  “The rain will come,” she says. “It will be dangerous along the hills, so no going outside.”

  Nobody argues.

  Later that night I sneak out and head to the haystack. I climb up, careful not to fall over. I point the phone to the sky and check for a signal. I see lightning illuminate the dark mountains like the flashbulb on my camera. Seconds later, thunder echoes across the range. I check my email. Still no response. I type a quick note.

  Hey,

  We’re in Orocovis, at Tia Darma’s farm.

  She killed a cow. She said it was sick. Have you ever done that?

  Okay, gotta go. There’s lightning and I don’t want to get fried by a bolt. I’m on that haystack. Have you ever used it to make a call when you were here? Oh, wait. You don’t have a phone. I hope you get this.

  Bye,

  Marcus

  I go back inside and get into bed. Soon the rain starts to pound the ceiling. I think of my dad. Did he challenge Darma? Did he disagree with her? What did he do to get kicked out of this farm in the clouds?

  DAY THREE

  FIFTEEN

  ECHOES OF THE MOUNTAINS

  The next morning, Charlie and I wake up at about the same time and find Mom in the living room.

  “I woke up early and had coffee with Darma,” she says, stretching. She takes a sip of coffee. “What an incredible woman. Did you know that her family has owned this farm for over a hundred years? She’s lived on the farm her entire life. She didn’t have internet until two years ago, when Sergio insisted she needed to modernize. She has a flip phone, but she hates to use it.”

  My mom says Darma is an inspiration.

  “She buses kids from all over the island and teaches them about farming,” she says.

  “Does she teach them how to kill cows?” I ask.

  Charlie takes a pretend shot at the ground and makes a horrible mooing sound.

  “Yeah, Darma is a great influence,” I tell her sarcastically.

  Mom ignores me and says, “I could easily move here.”

  Say what?

  She goes on and on about how inspired she feels here.

  “How amazing would it be?”

  “Did she find any information about Dad?” I ask, changing the subject.

  My mom reacts like I just snapped her out of a dream.

  At that exact moment, Darma walks in. She always has creepy timing. “He asked me for money,” she says. “And he ignored his basic, most fundamental duty.”

  “What is that?” I ask.

  Darma takes Charlie by the hand. He offers her a hug and she brings him in. She kisses him on the forehead and rubs the back of his neck while she looks at me. She starts to say something, then stops herself. She takes a sip of coffee.

  “He wasn’t ready to own a farm,” she continues. “He did not respect my decision. Then he left.”

  Why wouldn’t she help out her own family?

  “Where is he now?” I finally ask.

  “Your father,” Darma says, her tone lighter than before, “is too impatient. He wants things to come quickly and easily. You cannot farm that way. He thinks money will solve all problems. It will not.”

  “But where is he?” I say, getting slightly irritated. My mom shoots me a look that tells me I should watch my attitude.

  “He wanders,” she says. “One day he is driving a food truck; the next day he is working at a hotel. I called my cousin Pepe in Manatí. He says, up until a few months ago, your father would stay there from time to time. I think they’re still in touch.”

  Even though it sounds like my dad has a lot of tíos and tías to turn to, I wonder if he’s lonely. Does he like wandering?

  I look at my mom.

  “Marcus,” she says, sounding annoyed. “At some point you’re going to have to let go of this.”

  Why should I let it go? He’s my dad.

  Darma puts her hand on my mom’s shoulder and together they go outside. Charlie follows. I slowly make my way outside also. Mom and Darma watch the landscape quietly. Darma stands while my mom sits in a rocking chair, quietly looking out. What is so bad about wanting things to come quickly? About never settling? Why don’t they just give him a chance? People assume that because I’m big, I’m going to cause harm. They don’t give me a chance. It’s all unfair.

  After everyone finishes breakfast, we say good-bye to Darma. She packs us some lunch and a few gallons of water for the road. Sergio loads two boxes of plantains into the back of the pickup. He has to deliver them to a neighbor about twenty miles away.

  My mom hugs Darma and thanks her.

  “The seeds will continue to grow, Melissa. When you return, you will see how they’ve blossomed.”

  Darma takes my mom’s face in her hands. I notice a few tears run down my mom’s face.

  Mom wants to be a farmer now? How is that going to solve our problems? The whole reason we’re in Puerto Rico in the first place is to find my dad so we can fix our lives in Springfield. He can help us. And spend some time with us. Maybe.

  I kick rocks on the way to the car, but before I get in, Darma stops me.

  “Be careful with the things you seek,” she says.

  I don’t know what this lady is trying to say to me.

  “Thanks for letting us stay,” I say, stepping inside Sergio’s lime-green truck.

  Everyone packs in. Hilda rests her head on Angela’s shoulder. They both seem really sleepy. María scoots toward the middle of the backseat.

  “You’re coming?” Sergio asks his daughter.

  “Sí, Papá.”

  Sergio beams. “She called me Papá,” he says. “She hasn’t called me that since she was little.”

  “Stop staring!” María puts her hands over her face, and Sergio quickly takes his eyes off the rearview mirror.

  He starts the truck. “Nos vemos mañana, Tía,” he calls out to Darma.

  “You’re going back tomorrow?” my mom asks.

  Don’t tell me she wants to come back to this farm. We’ve already wasted a whole day, and we’re leaving in three days. We still have no idea where my dad is. We should go to that uncle’s house. What was his name? Tío Pepe who lives in Manatí. Or at least go back to Tío Ermenio’s to look fo
r more clues. I don’t understand why my mom isn’t trying harder. I just don’t. She knows we’re struggling! I stay quiet, though. It isn’t anybody’s business how I feel.

  Charlie snuggles up to Hilda while chomping on a piece of purple fruit that looks like an alien egg.

  “Dragon fruit,” he says, shoving it into my face.

  “Man, get that away from me.”

  “You feeling okay?” my mom asks.

  I ignore her.

  “He’s grumpy,” Charlie says, and grabs one of my ears with his free hand.

  I shove him away. “I said stop.”

  My brother sits back. “Yep, Marcus is grumpy,” he whispers loudly.

  Darma steps close to the window and leans in.

  “Some of the locals say your father still visits the chinchorros on the road to Manatí,” she says, watching me carefully.

  “That’s on our delivery route,” Sergio says. “We can drop these things off, then stop by a few of them if you like.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” my mom replies. “We’re not here for—”

  “Chinchorros! Ja!” Hilda says, rubbing Sergio’s shoulders.

  “She loves those,” Angela says. “Although I’m not positive we should be going.”

  Hilda starts saying something in German that sounds like she’s arguing with her sister again. I don’t think they’re playing around this time. They keep going on like this until María says something that calms both of them.

  “Okay?” she says. Hilda doesn’t say anything and Angela nods.

  “Are they okay?” Mom asks.

  “Angela wants to return to Tío Ermenio’s. She has to study for a big exam coming up when she goes home next week. Hilda doesn’t want to go back.”

  I want to keep moving. We’re wasting time standing here.

  “It isn’t too out of the way,” Sergio says.

  “I—I really don’t want this to be about searching . . .”

  Okay. I’ve had enough.

  “Mom, why don’t you want to find him?” I finally say. “Why don’t you care?”

  She’s silent for a moment.

  “Marcus,” she says, leaning forward to face me in the front seat. “This trip isn’t about the search for your father. It’s about us, this family—you, me, your brother—getting a break.”

  “I just don’t see—”

  “Marcus, you beat up a kid! You hurt him. We need—I need a break. Our family is falling apart. I don’t know what we’re going to do with Charlie, or with you if you get expelled, or if I’m going to get a promotion. I just don’t know. I wanted to be here so we can just regroup for a minute. Get away from everything. Be together. Just us.”

  “What about all these people?” I say, pointing around the tiny car. “Were they part of your ‘regroup’?”

  “We all have golden tickets, Marcus!” Charlie says.

  Charlie must not get how angry I am. And that makes me angrier.

  “You leave us at home most of the time, Mom. You come home late; you never have money.” Nobody in the car moves or says anything. “And now you come to Puerto Rico and you just want to ‘regroup’? Seriously? How do you expect us to regroup if when we go back everything will be the same? Charlie will still have Down syndrome. I will still be a bully to anyone who looks at me. And you, you’ll still be gone.”

  My face stings, and the blood in my fists reaches a boiling point. I slam the dashboard and the truck shakes. The silence is broken when I push myself out of the car, past Darma, and stomp down the hill through the mud toward the farm gate.

  “You may not care to find my dad,” I say, turning around one last time. “But I do. I care.”

  The humidity is thick, and sweat forms on my neck. Streams of tears cool my cheeks, but my face still burns. I don’t look back. I march forward. Through the mud, down the hill, away from this farm, away from my mom, away from everything and everyone.

  I open the gate.

  FINCA VEGA

  If I’m being honest, I’m mad at my dad, too. Sure, maybe he needed time to figure things out. But ten years? That’s a really long time. Didn’t he ever wonder how we were doing? How could someone just turn their back on their family and leave? He doesn’t even answer my emails. He has to have seen at least one by now. At least one.

  I look around. The mist in the mountains covers the trees. Birds caw in the distance. My head spins. My heart beats fast. Too fast. The camera around my neck feels like a cinder block as I turn in every direction. There is nothing but mountains and mist and bird sounds echoing. My head pounds. Finally, I yell.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

  My voice thunders across the landscape. The birds flap their wings, probably to go somewhere quieter.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

  Now the only sound is my voice carrying across the entire earth. I am bigger than the mountains. I am bigger than the sky. I am the Mastodon of Montgomery Middle, the Springfield Skyscraper, the Moving Moun-tain, the Terrible Tower. Freakazoid. I am Big. Bad. Marcus Vega.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

  I try to catch my breath. My head is throbbing. My throat hurts.

  Where the heck am I going to go in the middle of all these trees? I have to go back to the truck. I don’t want to. But I have to. I turn back up the hill and make my way to the pickup.

  Everyone is still there, waiting, stiff as ever. Nobody says anything. Finally, Charlie pops his head out of the window.

  “Hey, why you screaming?” Charlie forms a V-shape with his arms. “Why?”

  “Be quiet,” I tell him. I’ve never talked to him like that. He takes it in. My brother is smart. He knows I’m upset. He doesn’t care.

  “You’re Slugworth,” he says, sticking out his tongue.

  “Slugworth is a good guy, man,” I tell him, opening the door.

  “H-he is a . . . bad . . . guy . . . in the beginning,” he tells me, starting to stutter. “Bleh!”

  “Nice,” I tell him. “Real mature, man.”

  “You . . . real . . . mature,” he says, stuttering more. My brother stutters when he’s upset. He stares at me, trying to get his words out.

  “Honey,” my mom says to Charlie. “Just leave your brother alone.”

  And with that, Sergio starts the truck again.

  “You know,” Darma says, putting her hand on my door, “I never showed your brother our prize toro. He’s really a magnificent bull.”

  Why is she talking to me about her pet bull?

  “He doesn’t always come to the gates by the stables,” she says. “Sometimes he prefers to be out in the fields. Like he’s surveying the land. Watching over it. I told your mother you need to see the landscape for yourself to decide what to do.”

  Is she comparing me to her pet bull?

  Darma extends her hand to me. I don’t say anything. I just want peace.

  She says good-bye to everyone again. We drive off. Everyone is quiet. I look over at the mountains, where my screams have been swallowed by the mist.

  SIXTEEN

  CHINCHORROS

  Sergio says we should stop at a chinchorro after he drops off the plantains.

  “Angela and Hilda can check out the place, and maybe you and your mom can talk,” Sergio says, looking at us both.

  “Yes,” she says. “Okay.”

  I’ve had a lot of time to think in the silence, but I still don’t talk. I’m not sure I have the words right yet. My skin feels prickly, like the spikes from a dragon fruit are rolling up and down my arm. I dig out the rambutan fruit Sergio gave me. It’s not as bright orange as it was yesterday. It’s turned a little brown. I’m not ready to eat this thing. I put it back in my bag and stare out the window. I feel awful.

  We drive throu
gh the mountains, toward the little towns where these food-and-drink shacks line the dirt roads. We stop at a farm, and Sergio takes out the cases of plantains to deliver.

  “Be right back,” he says, leaving the engine running.

  Charlie and María play I Spy. My mom just stares out the window. Angela is asleep on Hilda as Hilda quietly rests her head against the car window. I guess they made up or something. I wonder if twins have some kind of internal communication thing where they can apologize to each other without having to say anything. I wish Charlie and my mom could read my mind right now.

  Charlie has been calling me Slugworth since we left Darma’s. He doesn’t say anything else. Just “Slugworth, Slugworth, Slugworth” while he takes in the scenery he missed when he fell asleep on the way up here yesterday.

  Sergio returns and then waves to the old guy who just bought the produce. Soon we’re back on the road and heading to the highway again. We exit onto a small path, and Sergio pulls over next to a tiny shack. It looks like it’s been abandoned for years.

  “This is Archie’s,” Sergio says. “Your dad and I used to hang out here.”

  We all step out, and Angela and Hilda hurry inside. My mom and Charlie scope out the scene. Charlie says it looks like a cowboy movie.

  “You’re right, sweetie,” Mom says. “Let’s go explore inside.”

  I still don’t understand what has made my mom so adventurous. Back home she’s always rushing around, stressing, working double shifts. A few days here and she seems carefree. Like nothing has ever bothered her in her life.

  “I’ve never seen you so excited to do stuff like this, Mom.” It’s the first thing I say to her after what happened at the farm. Maybe I should have started with something else.

  I think Sergio senses that we’re going to talk, so he takes Charlie and María inside to meet up with Angela and Hilda.

  My mom pauses and looks me in the eyes. “We’re together in a different place,” she says. “Why shouldn’t I feel excited?”

  She’s right. I can’t be mad at her because she wants to be happy. She deserves that.