Bridge

by Patrick Jones

  His father didn’t know it, but José had asked the therapist to help his father learn to smile again, or at least something like it. A person could live with one hand or one leg, but not without the ability to show happiness. Especially if there was limited happiness in his dad’s life.

  “Este está bueno,” José said as he handed his dad the big piece of scrap metal. From the date in his father’s notebook, he’d found the fine piece of metal the day before he fell at home. His father admired the piece of scrap, his eyes going back and forth, inspecting every inch.

  José took off his glove and touched the cold metal. Goose bumps crossed over José’s arm from a thought that wouldn’t leave his mind. All the talk in language arts about the difference between memories and stories, about separating fact from fiction, had got him thinking. Everything had a past, present, and future. This metal had once held up a house, but now it was scrap, no longer serving a purpose. Yet, in the near future, it would be melted down and used to make new metals to hold up another house and serve a purpose again. José knew his own shadowed past all too well.

  José’s father motioned that it was time to move on, so they began walking slowly toward the next address, the next stop in their journey. Along the way, José spoke with his father slowly, telling him the choices he faced and asking his father for his wisdom. His dad’s brain might be damaged, but José hoped his father’s heart stayed strong and his wisdom remained intact.

  He asked his father about small things like Angelica. His dad told him not to be discouraged, and he made José laugh with a story about meeting José’s mother. As they neared the final address in the book, José asked the hardest question: what should he do? He could work first shift as a foreman in training at UPS, but the job meant he’d have to drop out of Rondo. He’d make more money, so his dad could get physical therapy more than once a week, and maybe they could get a bigger place. Or maybe I could move out, José thought, and be free.

  “Haz lo correcto,” his father said. But that was the problem, José thought: both of them were the right choices. How did a person decide between two good options? On another matter, though, his father was correct—José needed to do what was right, and what was right was to tell the truth. José hoped the shadow of shame chasing him would go away if he admitted what really happened ten years ago.

  “Lo siento mucho,” José said, his voice breaking. In the other room, Cecilia’s children were sleeping; around the table, José’s family sat in stone silence as José explained his mistake at the hospital and the consequences. He knew Jesus forgave all sins, but would his family?

  For the longest time, no one spoke. Finally, his mother rose and went into the other room. Seconds later, José heard the sound of prayers.

  Cecilia pushed back her chair, rose, and stood next to José. She gently kissed him on the top of the head and told him not to worry, that everyone makes mistakes. The important thing was learning from them. She said she was trying, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Nothing in our lives is ever easy, he thought. They’d need to stay strong, stay together, and stay focused on the hopes and dreams they carried with them.

  19

  MORNING / MONDAY, FEBRUARY 3

  “You’re late,” the man’s voice said, sharply. José looked at the clock on the wall. 8:15.

  José nervously picked at his wool cap, still wet with snow. The Chevy didn’t start, the bus was late arriving, and José knew he’d now face the consequences. “I’m sorry, Mr. H.”

  “Have a seat.”

  José put a hand over his mouth to cover his yawn. This was not the impression he wanted to make on what felt like the first day of something new.

  “You best not be late for me, José, or else,” Kayla’s voice called out. Laugher filled José’s first-period science class, but José was distracted by the buzzing of his phone. Mr. Harmon was calling, probably in response to the message José had left him saying he couldn’t take the first-shift job after all. José turned off the phone, took his seat at the table, and listened with his fellow Rondo students as Mr. Hunter explained the science project they would be doing in class. Unlike the hard chairs in the hospital and on the bus, the chair at Rondo felt safe and soft to José.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Harmon,” José said when he called back. “I promised Mrs. Baker, my parents, and everybody that I’d stay in school. I’ll come to work second and third, but I want to finish school. You understand?”

  Even through the phone, José could hear the hustle and bustle of the UPS warehouse. Standing just outside the school door during the short morning break, José also heard the sounds of Rondo, a mix of languages and lives that all came together in one place.

  “If you work those shifts, it’s just moving boxes, not foreman training. Don’t you want to get ahead?” Mr. Harmon asked.

  José stifled a laugh. He was a nineteen-year-old eleventh-grader. I don’t want to get ahead, he thought, I just want to get caught up. “Yes, but I need to finish school. That’s my choice.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Positive.”

  “Well, I’ll tell human resources. They’ll call about the other shifts. Good luck, José.”

  “Good luck, everyone,” Mrs. Howard-Hernandez said as she handed out the final exam on The Things They Carried. Like the other tests, it was a combination of short-answer questions and one long essay. José blew through the short answers, writing quickly. He knew the material, but he also wanted to spend time on the essay question. The second she’d told the class to turn the test over, José’s eyes went to the bottom line. He was ready to answer.

  The question read, “One of our first assignments was listing things that people carry. Real things they carry in a bag, things they carry because of their culture, and the emotional things they carry. Has reading this book changed the things you carry? What will you carry forward from this book?”

  José clutched the pencil for a second like it was a piece of scrap metal with a past, a present, and a future. His mind flashed on his dad, before the accident and after. He wrote:

  What I will carry from this story is hope. Tim is in a terrible situation in this book, caught up in a war he didn’t want to fight in a place he didn’t want to be. But he had no choice, because he had responsibilities. Sometimes responsibilities burden you, but mostly they make you stronger. You show the world—and yourself—you can handle the things you carry.

  For years I carried a fear with me, a fear of letting out a secret, a mistake I’d made. I knew I could never be free of that weight until I told the secret. And O’Brien was right, the fear was far worse than the outcome. I had expected shame, but instead I received forgiveness. And in forgiveness is hope for a better future.

  All of the characters in the book carry heavy physical loads, but they also carry weighty emotional loads, including grief, fear, and love. After the war, the psychological burdens the men carried during the war continued to define them. Those who survive carry guilt, grief, and confusion, and many of the stories in the collection are about these survivors’ attempts to come to terms with their experience. And maybe it is O’Brien who survives the best, because he tells the story. When we tell survival stories, then we give hope to all of those suffering and in despair.

  20

  EVENING / THURSDAY, JUNE 5

  ST. PAUL / CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL GYM

  With his family and his new girlfriend, Angelica, beside him, José applauded as Rondo students walked across the makeshift stage to get their diplomas. Some students he’d known for years, while others had come to Rondo only for one semester.

  “I’m so happy for them,” José whispered to Angelica. She squeezed his hand; he squeezed back. On his other side, he did the same. He squeezed his father’s right hand, and even if he could barely discern it, José thought his father had squeezed back. The third-shift UPS wages had bought more therapy but provided José with less sleep. While he came to school tired, he pushed through it, and as he watched his fellow c
lassmates accept hard-earned diplomas, he knew why.

  “You’ve dug yourself in deep,” José remembered Mrs. Baker telling him, “But Rondo is the ladder that’s gonna help you rise up.” Not only was the ladder of Rondo strong, it was also well supported. Mrs. Baker, Mr. Hunter, Mrs. Howard-Hernandez, all of the staff and aides held firm to the bottom of the ladder so that students could climb.

  “They look proud,” Aunt Cecilia said in accented English. In his rare spare time, José had agreed to watch Cecilia’s children more, but only if she took English classes. José knew a family like his needed more than one bridge.

  José looked at the teachers onstage. Mrs. Howard-Hernandez was second from the end. José made a mental note to tell her that, come this day next year, he’d have two more items to add to the list of things he carried: a high school diploma and a college acceptance letter.

  SPANISH TO ENGLISH GLOSSARY

  ambulancia: ambulance

  ¡A ver si puedes cerrar las piernas esta vez!: Let’s see if you can keep your legs closed this time!

  ¡basta, ya párenle!: enough, stop it already!

  Este está bueno: This is a good one

  Haz lo correcto: Do what is right

  intoxicado: sick due to food poisoning

  Lo siento mucho: I’m sorry

  Mamá, ¿qué pasó?: Mom, what happened?

  Papi, ¿estás bien?: Daddy, are you okay?

  pinche: lousy (slang)

  Porque somos familia, hijo: Because we’re family, son

  ¿Qué dijo el doctor?: What did the doctor say?

  ¿Qué estás haciendo?: What are you doing?

  ¿Quién te va a cuidar a los niños?: Who’s going to watch the kids for you?

  rápido, rápido: fast, quickly

  Te necesito: I need you

  Todo va a estar bien: Everything will be fine

  Tu papá tuvo un accidente: Your dad had an accident

  vaquero: cowboy

  Ven aquí por favor: Please come here

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I began writing this book after a conversation with my friend Marcela. I knew I wanted to write about a young man who acted as the “bridge” between the English-speaking world and the Spanish-only world of his parents. As we discussed this, Marcela talked about how often translations by children are flawed. Not only did they often take place in times of great stress, such as a medical emergency, but the children were also translating words and concepts that were too adult for them to understand.

  Marcela also helped me develop the characters, the setting, and a good part of the plot. In addition, she reviewed the Spanish. It is always tricky to write about or from the point of view of a different culture. In this book, I tried to be sensitive in portraying this culture.

  In addition to my own research on concussions, Brent Chartier—who has coauthored books with me—brought his expertise from working with the one of the leading neurosurgeons in the United States. The medical mistranslation portrayed in this book is based on the famous 1980 Willie Ramirez case. As a result of an interpreting error at a Florida hospital, Willie’s brain hemorrhage was misdiagnosed, and he was left quadriplegic.

  The lesson plan for The Things They Carried quoted in the text was created by Lisa Seppelt.

  Finally, as with all the books in The Alternative series, students and teachers at South St. Paul Community Learning Center read and commented on the manuscript, in particular John Egelkrout, Mindy Haukedahl, Kathleen Johnson, and Lisa Seppelt.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Patrick Jones is the author of more than twenty novels for teens. He has also written two nonfiction books about combat sports: The Main Event, on professional wrestling, and Ultimate Fighting, on mixed martial arts. He has spoken to students at more than one hundred alternative schools, including residents of juvenile correctional facilities. Find him on the web at www.connectingya.com and on Twitter: @PatrickJonesYA.