Because of the Sun

by Jenny Torres Sanchez

  “Open your eyes!” I tell her through clenched teeth. “Anna, open your goddamn eyes!” I push myself against her even harder.

  This time she does, and I look into them, trying to connect with something. “Listen to me,” I tell her. “We’re going to school.” I say the words slowly so she will understand. “We are going to get dressed. We are going to walk to the bus stop. And we are fucking going to school.”

  “I can’t,” she whispers. She tries shaking her head, but I have a tight hold on her face and she whimpers. I hold on tighter.

  “You can,” I tell her. “You will. We will. You don’t have to pay attention. You can even say you feel sick. I don’t give a crap. But you will go.” I make a mental note that I will have to act extra normal. That I will have to make sure to laugh with friends. That I will be normal enough for both of us.

  She stares at me and I go on. “If we don’t go today, we won’t go tomorrow. If we don’t go today and tomorrow, the both of us, it will leave a trail. It will seem odd.”

  “We miss all the time. It won’t matter,” she says.

  “It will matter this time.” I slowly let go of her face. She turns away from me and lets out a deep sigh. I get off her and she carefully sits up, her feet on the floor. “Okay?” I ask.

  She gives me a dirty look, but nods.

  I turn away for a moment and out of the corner of my eye see her snatch the brown blanket and wrap herself in it again.

  “Goddamn it!” I say as I reach for her feet and pull hard, drag her off the bench so fast her head hits the edge as she slides off.

  “Damn you!” she yells, rubbing her head and whimpering again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” But she gets to her feet and looks at me.

  I open the bench, grab her clothes, and throw them at her. Then I grab my own clothes and slam the bench shut.

  “Get dressed!” I tell her. She stares at the clothes. “Now.” Inside, I am seething. Inside, I am bubbling. But I try to speak to her in a steady voice. “We have ten minutes.” I begin changing out of yesterday’s clothes and into a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt. Anna picks up her clothes and complies. I watch as she pulls on her boots. At the last minute, she carefully ties a black bandanna around her forehead. It makes her look like Daddy and I want to rip it off and ask her what the hell is wrong with her, but I say nothing and keep my hands at my sides.

  Neither of us looks toward the end of the trailer, past the bathroom, to the foot of Mama and Daddy’s bed.

  We don’t look at the lump on the floor covered by the quilt adorned with tiny red roses. We don’t brush our teeth. We don’t go near the bathroom. We pretend he’s not there.

  I pull on the ends of my sleeves, hold tight to them, making sure I don’t forget. I wear my hair down, brushing it forward so it covers my neck, reminding myself not to flip it back for anything in the world. I make a mental note: No matter how hot it gets, leave your sleeves down, keep your hair down.

  “Come on.” I throw Anna her backpack and carefully pull my own over my aching shoulders.

  I ignore the pain in my back, where the edge of the table dug in when he slammed me into it.

  I ignore all the pain, in my legs, in my arms, in my neck. Then I open the door to our trailer and step into the glaring sun of the New Mexico desert.

  I pull Anna by the hand.

  Mama watches us as we walk around the junk littered in front of our motor home and out into the big open space that surrounds us. We’re just far enough from the cluster of real mobile homes and trailers that we go mostly forgotten. And just close enough to keep us from being completely out in the middle of nowhere by ourselves.

  “Going to school!” I yell at her.

  She stares at us like she hardly knows us.

  Her hair is hanging around her face. I look again, making sure it’s her.

  I see her hands, pale and white, grip her coffee mug, and then I turn away and Anna and I continue in silence.

  But the image of Mama’s hands stays with me. It fills my thoughts as we walk. I think about the unforeseeable strength of those pale, white hands. I imagine how they must have latched on to Daddy’s belt and gotten it around his neck. How they must have pulled tighter and tighter, bringing him to his knees. They must have been locked in place, like a dog’s jaw, unable to be pried open, unable to let go.

  I don’t know exactly, because it happened while I was at school. Anna stayed home because she was Daddy’s favorite and she thought he would stay calmer with her there. Maybe he won’t hurt Mama with me here, Anna said. We both knew it was a stupid notion, buy maybe he wouldn’t kill Mama with Anna there. So I went to school. And Anna stayed.

  And Daddy didn’t kill Mama. But she killed him. I came home to Mama staring at the lump and Anna crying so hard she couldn’t tell me anything.

  Images of Mama’s hands placing food in front of me, touching my hair, wiping my face, float around the darker image.

  The sun pulses brighter, pulls me out of my thoughts. Other homes come into view, but I’m scared to look around, afraid to see faces peering out of windows, faces that might know what has happened. Especially when we pass Doña Marcela’s trailer. So I keep my eyes straight ahead, counting my steps to the small park where the bus picks us up. I focus on the rusty swing set, the monkey bars, the water fountain that barely trickles water.

  “Just act normal,” I tell Anna as we approach the others waiting at the bus stop.

  Jalisa, Sammy, and Noel look at us as we come nearer.

  “Hey, Rambo!” Jalisa yells at Anna, and then claps her hands as she laughs. “We missed you yesterday. What up, Rambo! Hey! I said hey!” She tries to get Anna to respond, but Anna just stands there, a glazed look on her face. “What the hell is up with you?” Jalisa says.

  I try to shoot Anna a warning look, but she won’t look my way.

  “Don’t worry about her,” I tell Jalisa.

  Jalisa is the youngest of us, but nothing fazes her. “Fine, be that way, looking like Rambo and shit and acting like you’re too good to talk to me today.”

  “Leave her alone,” I say.

  Jalisa gives me a dirty look. “You ordering me to leave her alone?” She mimics me like I’m some kind of drill sergeant.

  I feel my blood pulsing with anger. I want to punch Jalisa in the face, see her body hit the ground, and again I think, I’m just like him.

  Anna doesn’t react to any of it, so I take a deep breath and try to keep it together like it’s no big deal. Like everything is totally fine.

  “What the hell is up with her anyway?” Sammy asks, looking at Anna. “You stoned or something?” He stares at her and when she doesn’t respond, he shrugs and gives up.

  I look at her, so far away that I wonder where she went. I have a horrible image of Anna breaking down in the middle of class and being sent to the office, where she will spill her guts to some stupid counselor. Stay, I say to her silently, hoping that she will receive my message telepathically. Stay, damn it, Anna. Stay and help me with this.

  Inside, I sound desperate.

  I focus on the frayed ends of my backpack strap and pull at them.

  “Forget her, she’s just being dramatic.”

  “I’m just tired,” I hear Anna say suddenly, and a small surge of relief goes through my body. The corners of her mouth twitch, but her eyes look strange and dull. “Couldn’t sleep last night.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jalisa says. “You know what works good for that? Beer. Just sneak a bottle. I know your daddy’s got plenty.” She puts an imaginary beer bottle to her mouth, throws her head back, and then looks at Anna. “Works like a charm.”

  “How the hell do you know?” Noel says.

  Jalisa shakes her head. “Shut up,” she tells him.

  Anna sits down on the pavement and puts her face on her knees, hugging them close to her body.

  I start counting the frayed threads of my backpack straps and try not to think. But the images come, faster than I can rep
lace them with numbers or thoughts of something else. Anything else.

  Her hands.

  The belt.

  Three four five

  The gargling sounds he must have made.

  Six seven eight

  The way he threw me around that trailer. With hate.

  Nine ten eleven

  Anna’s face when we looked under the quilt.

  My voice that didn’t sound like my own because it sounded too calm.

  It’s okay, Mama….

  Twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty

  I stop counting.

  Jalisa is still running her mouth, but she’s talking to Sammy. She likes him. I focus on the swings. The water fountain. The way the water dribbles out.

  I touch my neck. Noel looks at me. I pull my hair forward. I hear the bus and see it in the distance, sending up dirt. We’re always covered with dirt, I think. We are filthy.

  The dust makes me think of smoke signals, of people lost. And I think, SOS!

  But who would save us?

  The bus comes rumbling up. Everyone gets on, except Anna, who doesn’t even stand. I pull her up and push her, urge her. “Come on,” I tell her. “Unless you want to go back and stay in that trailer all day…”

  She glances back at me, that wild look again. She didn’t think of that.

  But I did.

  I shove Anna into a seat and sit down next to her. The bus jostles forward again. I look over at Anna and nod, trying to reassure her, even as my own mind fills with thoughts of what we will do. What will we do?

  I see Anna after third period, in the hall. People are shoving her out of the way as she stops every few steps for no reason than to look around, as if reminding herself where she is.

  You are here, I tell her, with me.

  “You okay?” I ask her when she finally gets to the locker we share.

  She seems surprised to see me. “Are you all right?” I ask again.

  She nods. “Yeah, sure.”

  I look around, whisper, “Have any of your teachers asked you anything? Has anyone looked at you funny.”

  She blinks. “What?”

  “Damn it, Anna.” I look at her, the way she’s blinking. She reminds me of the soldiers in Vietnam that Daddy had always told us about since we were little.

  Sometimes you’d see the poor bastards running, carrying their arms, literally carrying their own fucking arms. Or trying to run and then falling over, not realizing one of their legs just got blown the hell off. Other times, only their boots were left smoking on the ground, bits of their legs still in them. How would you like that? Huh? How’d you like coming across that, Shelly?

  Then he’d laugh like he just told us the best joke.

  It was the fucking apocalypse! he’d say before taking another swig of beer.

  Anna’s eyes fall on my bruised neck. I pull my hair forward even though it’s already covering it as much as possible.

  “Just a few more classes, okay? Just act normal. Can you do that?” She hasn’t taken her eyes off my neck and I grab her chin and force her to look at me. “Anna?”

  “What?” she says. I search her eyes and they finally settle down.

  “Can you do that?”

  She pulls away. “Yeah, okay. Fine,” she says, even though I don’t think she knows what I asked.

  The bell rings and we go in opposite directions. I offer a nod to my teacher as I slip past her just as the late bell rings, and she closes the door behind me.

  “Turn in your homework from last night!” she yells as we settle into our seats.

  And class goes on like always. I remind myself to raise my hand, to answer questions in a way that is neither too eager nor too disinterested. I force myself to joke with Aaron, who sits next to me. And laugh.

  The bell rings. Three more classes.

  Two.

  One.

  I stand by our locker, waiting for Anna to show up, but it’s Joe who comes over to me instead.

  “What the hell is up with your sister?” he asks. I had forgotten about Joe.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I tell him as I open the locker, blocking him from my view.

  Joe. Fucking Joe. Always trying to save Anna.

  He pushes the locker closed again and stares at me. “You girls are a sweet duo, aren’t you?” He smiles, the way guys smile when they’re sure you can’t pick up on their shitty meanings. But I could. God, I knew how guys could be, how they were sure they were stronger, better, superior.

  “If you don’t like it, then quit coming around,” I mutter.

  He sighs. “Come on. All right, I’m sorry. I’m just wondering what’s up with her is all. She’s being…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, weird.”

  I pull my hair forward again and shrug. “It’s nothing. Just our dad,” I say, acting like it’s no big deal.

  There was no way to completely conceal from Joe what happened in our trailer, not after he and Anna have been dating for six months. Especially with Anna always running to him like he could save her.

  The first time Joe dropped her off at our place, our dad was yelling so loud you could hear every filthy word he shouted at Mama. I remember sitting on the small steps outside our trailer, wondering where Anna was and why she hadn’t been on the bus. I remember being scared or pissed or relieved when I thought, Maybe you ran away. Maybe you hopped on a bus and got out, as far away from here as possible, like you’d tell me you were going to do when we were lying in bed at night and things were really bad. I could almost see you on that bus, getting farther and farther away from me. And I couldn’t decide if I loved you or hated you for doing it. Because even then, I knew you would.

  But then I saw Joe’s blue Mustang appear in the distance, barreling toward me, and coming to a stop just a few yards from where I sat. Anna opened the door, and I thought, Stupid girl, letting a guy bring her home. It was almost a good thing Daddy was too busy yelling or hitting or belittling Mama. I walked over to them and started talking loudly and pulling Anna out of the car, trying to make enough of a commotion so Joe wouldn’t hear the words coming through the thin trailer walls. So he couldn’t hear the man who loved us. Who hated us.

  But Joe heard and he made out enough, and he looked at us with a kind of confirmation and pity that made me sick.

  Yeah, Joe knew all our secrets. Or almost all.

  I pull a few books from my locker and put them into my backpack.

  He stands there and eyes me. “Are you guys, you know, okay?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “He took off last night.”

  “Really? Well, that’s not really a bad thing, right?”

  I shrug. It wasn’t, was it?

  Except it was. A very bad thing.

  “Anything I can do?”

  I almost laugh. Is there anything he can do?

  Yeah, I think, stop rubbing your fucking wealth and upbringing in our faces and leave Anna alone. “No thanks. It’s no big deal.” I look past him down the hall and see Anna walking toward us.

  Joe follows my gaze and puts an arm around Anna’s shoulder when she reaches us.

  “Hey,” he says softly. “Shelly told me. I’m sorry.” He squeezes her toward him and kisses her cheek. She stares at me wide-eyed.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’m sure Daddy will come back soon enough. Or maybe he’ll stay away for good this time. Who knows?” I keep my gaze steady with hers. Keep your mouth shut! Don’t tell him. Don’t.

  Her lips quiver, but she nods. “Right,” she whispers.

  “Come on,” Joe says. “I’ll drive you guys home.”

  “We’ll catch the bus,” I say. “Too far for you to drive.”

  “It’s okay.” He doesn’t live forty-five minutes away from school the way we do. He lives in an actual neighborhood, with sidewalks and paved streets. His parents have steady jobs. He already knows what college he’ll be going to next year.

  “It’s not a pr
oblem. Come on, let’s go,” he says, ignoring me and grabbing Anna’s hand. I see how she leans against him, how she clutches his hand like he might keep her from falling. He smiles at her.

  “I said we don’t need a ride.” My voice is tight, unnatural. The anger and jealousy I’ve kept in check all day slip out.

  “Jesus, relax.” Joe shakes his head. “It’s no big deal. I mean, I got nothing to do and I already know where you guys live,” he says quietly, the way people do when talking about something shameful. “It’s the least I can do.”

  So you can feel like a hero, I think. And I hate him. And I hate Anna.

  I shake my head, but he’s already turned around with her. She doesn’t look back at all. And I think, You’ll never look back! And I want to run over and shake you. I want to tell you something is happening to us. I think we’re dying, Anna! That’s what it feels like. And I want to save you, but I can’t, because I don’t even know how to save myself.

  Because I don’t know how not to be angry, not to be full of hate, not to want to tear apart everything and everyone I’m supposed to love. And I hate that Anna lets everyone slip into her heart and I don’t even have one. I hate that she never has to be the one who thinks, who remembers, who realizes that if Daddy is missing, his car should be too, but Joe will see it if he drops us off.

  I stand there trying to think of an excuse or a way to stop Joe and Anna, and each second I think, they get farther away, and each second that passes is one less to get to the bus.

  “Wait,” I call out. They keep walking, Anna leaning on Joe like that, not looking back. I just need a minute to figure it all out. I just need her to stay.

  “Wait…,” I say again. But she doesn’t. They don’t. They just keep walking.

  We pass different neighborhoods, the houses farther apart and more run-down the farther we get from school. Then they disappear altogether and only mountains and dirt and dried weeds and barely blue sky surround us.