“By marrying someone rich. Is that what you mean?”
“No, m’ijita. By marrying someone good.”
“Like Sabrina did, you mean?” Jessica tried to contain herself, but the anger and frustration were starting to leak into her voice.
“Yes. Like that.”
Jessica sighed. She was about to do something she never did: talk back to her mother. But it was time for her to stand up for herself. “Mami, I’m not Sabrina. What’s right for her may not be what’s right for me. I’m doing fine. I have a good job. I have a nice place to live. I have enough money to buy whatever I want. Almost.”
For the first time, her mother’s emotionless shell cracked. Looking sad and worried, Mami said, “But are you happy, Jessica? That’s what I worry about, m’ijita. I don’t want you to be miserable, because then you’ll end up marrying the first man who asks you, whether he can take care of you or not. . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I just don’t want you to end up like I did.”
She stopped talking again and took a long sip of coffee. Then she stared out the window at the cars going by. It didn’t look as though she were going to say any more.
“Mami . . . ,” said Jessica. All her anger had stopped and was now trying to go backward, getting clogged up in her throat. For the first time, she was starting to see that maybe Mami’s issues weren’t with her.
“Mami, are you that unhappy with Papi now? Are you thinking of getting . . .” She didn’t want to say “divorced.” She let her voice trail off.
Her mother turned and looked her directly in the face. Oh no, Jessica thought. It was true, then.
Mami laughed. But not as if it were funny. She laughed as if it were sad, the way the singers always did in ranchera songs. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But you’re right. I’m not happy, and I’m starting to see that I made the wrong choice.”
For some reason, Jessica suddenly had a vision of the Virgin Mary on her mother’s porch rocking back and forth. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Mami, how can you say that? You didn’t make the wrong choice! You and Papi go together. He’s the funny one, and you’re the serious one. Of course you love him . . . he needs you. He needs you to make him . . .”
Make him what? Jessica didn’t know the ending to that sentence. She was surprised to see her mother wipe her eyes. Mami never cried.
“I know he needs me,” she said quietly. “But I’m tired. Who do I need? No one. I’m the one who’s always doing the right thing — going to work, taking care of the house, worrying about you and your sister. And then, on top of that, I’m supposed to worry about your father, too? Why can’t he do the right things on his own, without me nagging him all the time?”
Jessica heard her own question about Guillermo in her mother’s words. Suddenly, her choices and her mother’s didn’t seem so different at all.
Mami continued to stare out the window and talk, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You know, when I met your father, I thought he was so romantic. He was always playing me songs on his guitar. Always wanting to drop everything and run off to the country with me. And the way he talked to my parents . . . They didn’t like him, but he didn’t care. And I didn’t care. And he was so handsome. . . .” She sighed.
Jessica listened intently, imagining her mother as clearly as if she were a character in a movie. She could imagine Mami as a young woman, just as serious and hardworking as ever. Of course she would be drawn to a man like Papi — a good-looking, free-spirited musician who seemed custom-built to take her mind off her troubles.
Her mother continued, “Back then I was young and stupid. I thought those things were enough for a good marriage, as long as I was the serious one and kept your father in line. And I was so proud to be the one who finally made your father settle down, Jessica. A lot of other girls were after him, in those days.” She smiled wistfully at the memory. “But now, after thirty years of that, I’m tired of keeping your father in line. And I realize now that he’s never going to change. I wish I had listened to my mother and married someone . . . someone different.”
Suddenly Jessica had to wipe her own eyes. Hearing her mother say these things made her feel again like a child, small and afraid. “But, Mami, you still love Papi, don’t you?”
Her mother didn’t answer immediately.
“Don’t you?” Jessica pressed.
“Yes. I love him. But sometimes that just isn’t enough.”
Jessica didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how she could make things right. She needed someone’s help. Suddenly, she had an idea.
“Mami, listen. I know someone who can help. Let me take you to see Madame Hortensia.”
Her mother snorted, then wiped her nose on her napkin. “That old fortune-teller in the purple house? Now you’re just being silly, Jessica. This isn’t something that can be fixed with a crystal ball.”
“No, I promise you, Madame Hortensia is different. Please, let me take you. Please, Mami, just try it.”
38
In the end, her mother agreed to go — probably only because Jessica had practically begged her. After work, then, Jessica found herself sitting in her car outside the little purple house, with the engine running so that her air conditioner could battle the summer heat. Mami had been inside Madame Hortensia’s house for an hour, and Jessica was resisting the urge to bite her nails when her cell rang. It was Sabrina.
“Hello.”
“Jessica, is Mami with you?” Sabrina sounded concerned and not a little frustrated.
“Yes. Listen, did she tell you she wanted to divorce Papi?”
There was a pause. “Well, no,” Sabrina finally said. “Not in so many words, but —”
Jessica didn’t wait to hear the rest. “Babosa, why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea it was this bad between them.”
Sabrina sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. Mami wouldn’t let me.”
Of course she wouldn’t, Jessica thought. Once again, her mother and sister had been making important decisions on their own — decisions that affected the rest of the family. And once again, Jessica couldn’t help but be annoyed with her sister.
“You should have told me anyway,” she fired back at Sabrina. “Then things wouldn’t have gone this far.”
“Jessica,” Sabrina said in her most annoying older sister voice, “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. I wasn’t trying to keep it secret from you. Mami really didn’t want anyone else to know about this — especially you. She didn’t want you to worry. And, well, she knows how close you are to Papi . . .”
At that point, Mami came out of Madame Hortensia’s house.
“I’ve got to go,” Jessica hissed into the phone. “We’ll talk about this later.” She hung up as her mother got into the car. As usual, Mami’s face gave no clues. As she pulled away, Jessica glanced at the Virgin Mary. But the figurine remained still.
“So? How was it?” she finally asked.
“Okay,” said her mother. “That old lady can’t really tell the future, you know.”
“I know. But did she help you?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Mami. “We’ll see.”
Jessica put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. “So,” she said hesitantly, hopefully. “Do you want me to drive you back to the house now so you can talk to Papi?”
“No.” Her mother’s voice was quiet but resolute. “Just drive me back to the school so I can pick up my car.”
“Where are you going?” Jessica couldn’t resist asking. “Back to Sabrina’s?”
“Maybe.” Her mother looked out the window for a while in silence. “Or maybe I’ll go somewhere else. I think I need to be alone for a while.”
Jessica didn’t know what else to say. This was new to her — questioning her mother as though she were a teenager. If Mami didn’t want to go home, there was nothing Jessica could do about it. She took the turn that led to Hawthorne Elementary and Mami’
s car.
In the deserted school parking lot, Jessica parked next to her mother’s car. Behind them, teenage boys played at the basketball court. The first streetlights were beginning to come on.
Mami turned to her. “Thank you for taking me there, m’ija. I appreciate you trying to help.”
Jessica smiled weakly. Again, she felt as if she might burst into tears at any moment. Surprisingly, her mother leaned over the gearshift and hugged her. Then, a tear did escape Jessica’s eye. She wiped it away quickly before her mother could see.
“M’ija, I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you. But I want you to try not to worry, okay?”
“Okay.” Jessica refrained from saying anything else. She didn’t want to get any more choked up than she already was.
Her mother smiled. “I just need some time to myself, baby. A little break, so I can think things over. Do you understand?”
Even though Jessica was afraid her parents might divorce, and that fear was breaking her heart, at the same time she completely understood her mother’s need to take a break for a while. In a way, suddenly, she even felt glad for her mother. She could see that it might be the best thing for Mami to step back and think for a while before she made her next decision. To meditate on it, as Madame Hortensia had said.
She nodded at her mother. “Do what you have to do, Mami. But I want you to call me if you need me. Or if anything happens. Okay? I’m old enough to hear the truth. You don’t have to tell Sabrina only.”
Her mother laughed, then hugged her again. “Okay, m’ija. You’re right. I will.”
They said good-bye, and Jessica watched her mother get into her car. Then she followed her out of the lot long enough to see that she wasn’t going toward her own house.
Then Jessica turned toward her parents’ house.
It was time to have a serious talk with her father.
She knocked at her parents’ front door and heard her father call out, “It’s unlocked.” When she came in, he was standing in the kitchen, glaring at the microwave.
“Jessi. Hi, m’ija. I’m glad you’re here. Come help me with this stupid pot pie, would you?”
Jessica hurried over and removed the foil-plated chicken pot pie from the microwave right as it emitted its first spark. “Papi, you can’t put foil in the microwave. You’ll blow up the house.” She turned on the oven. “Here. You’ll have to wait for it to heat up.” As she spoke, she glanced around and noticed that the kitchen, having gone two days without her mother’s care, already looked like a disaster area.
Her father was sulking. “It’s a good thing you came over, then. I can just see it — the whole house blows up, and your mother doesn’t even care.”
He took a beer from the refrigerator and walked into the living room. Jessica followed him and sat next to him on the couch.
“I’m sure she would care, Papi. But is that what you’re going to do? Let the house blow up? Or fall apart?” She looked pointedly at the empty cans, wadded-up napkins, and various fast-food wrappers littering the coffee table.
Her father shrugged irritably. “Maybe. Have you talked to her? I know she went to work today, because I called them and asked. But did she tell you when she’s coming back?”
“Papi, I’m scared she’s not coming back.”
He sighed heavily. “What does she want? Flowers? A present? Maybe I should go to Sears and get her one of those diamond necklaces. I can put it on the credit card.” He wrinkled his nose, as if the thought of all this trouble were annoying to him. “Last time I just got her flowers, and she was okay with it.”
Jessica shook her head in exasperation. Now she saw that these problems with her parents had gone on way too long. And it was mostly her father’s fault. She totally saw her mother’s point of view. And now here was her opportunity to convey that to her father.
“Papi,” she said sternly, “do you want Mami to come back?”
“Of course I do. I’m hungry for real food,” he said peevishly.
Jessica made her voice more stern and louder. “Papi! Do you want Mami to stay married to you? Or do you want a divorce?”
He looked surprised for a second, then quickly recovered. He took a casual sip of beer. Then, smiling at her as if she were a child, he said, “That’s not going to happen, m’ija. Don’t worry. Your mother will come back soon.”
“No, she won’t, Papi. Not unless you make some big changes. That’s what she told me. I talked to her today.”
He lost all his casual attitude then. He set down his beer and turned to face Jessica. His face, worn but still handsome, showed equal parts shock, concern, and complete confusion. Jessica would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“What’d she say?” he asked. “She told you she wants a divorce?” His voice was completely stricken. “I didn’t think she was that mad.”
Jessica took his hand and patted it. “Papi, she’s been mad for a while, about a whole lot of things.”
“Like what?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
“She’s tired of working and then coming home and cleaning the house all the time, while you sit around and goof off. She’s tired of you drinking and talking about other women, and never taking her anywhere. It makes her feel like you don’t appreciate what she does. Maybe even like you don’t really love her.”
“Hijole!” her father said. “M’ija, I keep telling your mom she doesn’t have to clean the house so much. All I want is for her to cook me dinner! And I’ve already told her to quit her job, if she wants, since it’s making her so miserable. And the talking about other women — Jessi, you know I’m just playing when I do that. I just say that stuff to see if your mother will get jealous. Well, I guess she does get jealous . . . but she should know I’m just playing around. She should know that I still love her! Hijo de su madre!”
Her father said that only when he was really upset. Jessica knew that Papi loved Mami. She’d always known that. But hearing his words now, she could totally see how her mother might have doubts. He went on.
“If I didn’t love her, would I go to that stupid job every day, when I could be doing something fun instead? No, I do that for her. How can she say I don’t appreciate her? She doesn’t appreciate me. Sometimes I think she wishes I was somebody else — some big shot like her boss.”
And just like that, Jessica saw her father’s point of view again. Although he didn’t talk about it often, she knew that he’d had to totally work his butt off since coming to America as a teenager. He’d worked all the way up from janitor to one of the supervisors at his company. Yet there were men his age everywhere who were doing better — making more money — than he was. Like Mami’s bosses. Or Jessica’s bosses. Or even Papi’s own son-in-law.
Looking at his face, now filled with pain and shame at admitting his true feelings, Jessica could understand how painful it was for her father, imagining that he simply wasn’t good enough for Mami.
“She doesn’t wish you were somebody else,” Jessica told him. “Papi, she loved you before, when you were just a mariachi singer. She loved you when you were a janitor. Why wouldn’t she love you now?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “She’s older now. Maybe she sees it differently now. Hell, look at how she’s so happy about your sister marrying a guy with money. Look how she’s always pushing you to do the same thing!”
Her father had a point, Jessica thought. His words even echoed Mami’s own. She needed time to think of something she could say in response. Something that would comfort her father. She got up and went to the kitchen. After putting his pot pie in the oven, setting the kitchen timer, and walking slowly back to the living room, she had it.
“She isn’t happy about David because he has money,” she said.
“She isn’t?” Her father raised an eyebrow skeptically, daring her to deny it.
“No.” As Jessica thought it over, she realized that what she was about to say was the absolute truth. “Mami likes David because he tre
ats Sabrina like gold. The way he talks to her, the way he does things with her . . . Even if he had a crappy job and Sabrina was working, too, he’d still treat her the same way. He loves her and he does everything he can to show it.”
Her father muttered something then. She didn’t catch it, but she knew it contained the word whipped.
“He isn’t whipped, Papi,” she said. “He just loves Sabrina and doesn’t have a problem showing it.”
That was the real problem. Her father loved Mami, but he had a problem showing it. He was too macho. Or too spoiled. Exactly like Guillermo. Jessica saw it clear as crystal now. Her father was just like Guillermo. She’d fallen for a guy just like her father. It was classic. And pathetic, now that she saw it clearly. She smiled wryly to herself.
Her father made an impatient noise. “Okay, fine. He’s not whipped. So, what am I supposed to do now? Let your mother whip me, too?”
Jessica became impatient. “No, Papi. Stop it. You’re just being silly now.” The look on his face told her he was surprised and didn’t know if he should take that kind of talk from his daughter or not. But she went on. “What did you do back when you guys were still dating? You must have done something to make her want to marry you.”
Her father thought for a little while. “I guess we went dancing. She used to like that. I don’t know. We used to . . . Well, you don’t want to hear about that. . . .”
Jessica shook her head to keep from imagining whatever he’d been about to say. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. But whatever it was — whatever you did to win her over in the first place, you need to do again. You need to win her back now.”
Her father didn’t say anything. He looked down at the space near his hands, lost in thought.
“And you need to keep doing it, so you don’t lose her again,” Jessica added. “And you need to clean up this mess, and help Mami keep it clean.” The kitchen timer went off, snapping her father out of his reverie.
Jessica stood up. She’d done enough. Her father could handle it from here. “I’m leaving, Papi.”
Houston, We Have a Problema Page 22