The F Factor

by Diane Gonzales Bertrand

  His father squeezed Javier’s arm. He nodded and smiled. “Not just book smart, but sensible smart too. Although I’m not so sure getting your head in the way of an open screen was such a smart move. You’re going to have a nasty bruise in the morning.” Then his lips straightened into a fine line, and his eyes darkened. “But you wear that bruise proudly, Javit … uh, I mean Javier. Tonight you saved Pat and his grandmother’s lives—” The next words caught in his throat. He blinked several times and swallowed hard before his said, “No man could be prouder of his son than I am right now of you, Javier. I love you, and I’m so grateful God gave me this chance tonight to tell you. You have always been our miracle, our blessing. Do you know that?”

  Javier’s heart swelled inside his chest, into his throat, and up to his head until it burst from his eyes in relieved tears. All his life, Javier had been hugged by his father, but tonight’s abrazo made him feel like he gave back to his father as much as Javier took from him.

  When they finally released each other, Javier wiped his face with the back of his hand. His dad rubbed under his eyes and then grinned like his old self. “This is your mother’s fault. She makes us watch those silly telenovelas. Those hombres cry if they lose their hat.”

  Javier had to smile. “Yeah, what wimps!” he said. “Why don’t they do something really masculine like run into a window screen?” It felt good to be talking and laughing with his father for a while.

  But he felt overwhelmed by the emotional waves crashing his heart and his head when both his big brothers arrived at the hospital thirty minutes later. After tight hugs and relieved sighs, his brothers helped Javier maneuver a change of clothes, despite the oxygen tubes and his own shivering hands. His feet were ice cold, and wiggling his toes around in dry socks helped him relax.

  After he changed, Javier felt warmer, especially when the nurse brought him a heated blanket. He leaned back against the pillows and dozed to the familiar sounds of his father’s quiet voice explaining to Eric and Leo what had happened. It was his mom’s voice that pulled him awake, especially when he heard her say Pat’s name.

  “Mom, is Pat okay?” His words felt thick and dry upon his tongue.

  “Yes, Javito,” she said, rubbing her hand over the blanket covering his chest. “Pat’s suffering from smoke inhalation, but the doctors are optimistic since he is young and has no conditions like asthma. They said he needs two or three days in the hospital and a week’s rest at home.” She looked at her husband and two older sons. “I met Mrs. Berlanga in the waiting room. She looked so lost, the poor woman. I’m glad I could help her get some answers from the doctors.”

  Javier frowned. “Wasn’t Pat’s father there?”

  His mom shook her head. “Mrs. Berlanga said her husband was with the chief of police and the fire marshal, surveying the damages to the house.”

  “What about the old woman?” Leo asked. “Dad said Javier helped pull the grandmother out of the burning house.”

  “She’s fine. Mrs. Berlanga said she’ll take her mother to their house tonight.” She smiled down at Javier. “I told her that you and Pat are true heroes.”

  “Why wouldn’t our little Javito be a hero?” Eric pressed his hand on Javier’s shoulder. “Javito’s just like me and Leo. We’re all brave men when the pressure’s on.”

  “Thanks,” Javier said, touched by the comparison, but as he looked up at his big brother, he also said, “And can you stop calling me J avito? It makes me sound like a little kid—like Trey or Laura.”

  “Javier’s right,” his father said. “I named Javier after my father, and he was one of the finest men I ever knew.” He stepped up behind Leo and put his hands on his oldest son’s shoulders. “Every man should be so lucky to have three smart sons like mine.”

  Javier’s mother pushed open the door to the hospital room where the nurse told them Pat would be. Javier knew it was past two in the morning and all of them were worn out, but he had begged to see Pat before he left the hospital. With a few pointed questions, his mom had learned his hospital room number. Javier felt embarrassed when he saw the wheelchair, but once he sank into it, he was glad he didn’t have to walk.

  The fifth floor was quiet except for the subtle humming of machines. Javier’s dad pushed the wheelchair inside the dim room. Two vertical lights on both sides of the bed were set on low, so Javier could see his friend under the white sheets.

  Pat lay there with a plastic mask on his face. A monitor with green and red numbers and lines was attached to his arm with wires. A plastic IV bag with clear liquid was also connected to him. His eyes were closed, and his chest seemed to be breathing heavy. His dark face had been washed, and his usually spiked hair was combed back from his wide forehead.

  The sight of Pat’s vulnerability made Javier start shivering again. He clutched the armrests of the wheelchair. His raw emotions resurfaced, and he was scared he might lose it in front of his parents. So, he breathed in and out, over and over, pacing his rhythm with Pat’s until he felt he had regained control.

  “Why is he all alone?” his mom whispered. “If this were Javier, I’d be in that chair by the window watching him through the night.”

  “I’d be there beside you,” his father replied, “even if I had to blow up an air mattress to sleep on the floor.”

  “Pat, I’ll be back later.” Javier spoke in a normal tone just in case Pat could hear him. “You need to get out of this hospital. We have film to edit, and we need to partner on Guardian TV again. Don’t you leave me hanging, Pat.”

  He wanted so much for Pat to open his eyes, to say something back, but Pat just kept sleeping. Then Javier remembered that when it came to sleeping, Pat was an expert!

  As Javier rode home in his mom’s car, he finally thought to ask about his truck.

  “Leo and Eric already picked it up and drove it home. Don’t worry about anything but resting,” his mom told him. And when they got home, Javier was relieved to see the school camera and tripod on the kitchen table, safe and sound. He was happy to carry them to his room, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about his good friend back at the hospital.

  After a hot shower and deciding his scrapes, bumps, and bruises were nothing new for a clumsy-but-brave-guy, Javier finally relaxed in his own bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  He awoke to his mom’s cool hand on his cheek. It was a gesture that usually annoyed him, but he suddenly recalled last night’s dramatic events, and her touch was a welcome comfort. He struggled to open his eyes. “No fever, Mom. I’m okay.” He couldn’t remember when he felt so tired and sore.

  “Are you hungry? It’s almost one o’clock,” she replied. Her hand traveled through his hair. “You’ve got an interesting bruise. It looks like a purple stripe.”

  “That should look great on Guardian TV,” he drawled. Sudden thoughts of his TV partner made Javier’s eyes pop open. “Have you called the hospital to check on Pat?”

  His mom walked around the room, gathering up dirty clothes. “Yes, Pat’s still there, but I’m not driving you to the medical center today. You need to rest.” She rolled his jeans, shirts, and school uniform into a ball. “Pat’s mom will be taking care of him like I’m going to take care of you. If he’s still there tomorrow, we’ll go visit, okay?” She walked out of the bedroom as if there was nothing left to say.

  Javier sighed, but he knew arguing wouldn’t help. And in a way, he was glad he didn’t need to go any place. He felt like he had been trampled by elephants and wanted to do nothing but lie around and sleep.

  Later, though, when he was eating a turkey sandwich in the kitchen, he started worrying about Pat all over again. He tried to call Feliz, but only got her voicemail. He left a message but doubted she would call him at all. He also left a message on Andy’s and Ignacio’s phones to call him when they got back from the band competition in Waco.

  He spoke to each of his sisters when they called to check on him and then spent a couple of hours on the den sofa, flip
ping through channels on the television. He never realized how many college football games, corny Westerns, and cooking shows filled up Saturday afternoon TV. He started to turn on the computer in his room when he saw his backpack by the desk. He remembered the two tapes he and Pat had borrowed and thought maybe he’d watch them now. Javier pulled them out and saw the chemistry test paper caught between them.

  He sat down on his bed and unfolded the paper. His gaze fell upon the red 45. He frowned, feeling a sharp sting from the bruise on his forehead. It reminded him that getting an F on a test wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a guy. Suddenly, he felt foolish for ever giving his school grades that much power over him.

  “How are you feeling, Javier?”

  He looked up to see his father standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “I’m fine, Dad, just tired. Mom said you went to check on the Universal City job. Did you find much damage from the storm?”

  “Nothing too serious,” he said. He walked toward the bed.

  Instinctively, Javier folded up the test paper and slipped it under his pillow.

  “At least nothing got hit by lightning.” He sat down beside Javier. “I’ve been wondering if lightning set Mrs. Mendiola’s house on fire. I drove by it today. It’s beyond repair. Hopefully, the old woman had good insurance and can build a new house.”

  “Pat’s father won’t do it.” Javier sighed. “He wants to move her out of the neighborhood. Pat lived there to keep peace in the family. Now I guess he’ll go back home and live with his parents. Man, I’m going to miss driving with him to school.”

  His dad leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “How can a guy who owns a car business not buy his own son a car? I’m sure Mr. Berlanga has his reasons though.”

  “Who knows? I don’t get Pat’s family at all, but they make me appreciate my own family even more,” Javier replied. He loved the quiet conversation between his father and him—no teasing, no jokes, just talking.

  His dad nodded and turned to look at Javier. “It’s always good to be reminded of what’s really important. Last night we all got a reality check. I think it’s still sinking in today, what we might have lost. Right, Son?”

  “Yes.” Javier chewed on his lip. He thought about Pat, just starting to fit in well with Javier, Ignacio, and Andy as friends. He pushed Javier to loosen up and enjoy life. Thanks to Pat, Javier had become a guy who was a real person—not a fraud, not a robot, not the smartest guy in the whole school. Javier was looking at himself within a bigger picture now.

  He turned around and pulled the test paper from under the pillow. “I have something to show you, something you need to sign.” He unfolded the paper and with a slight tremble in his fingers, passed it over to his father.

  His dad sat up and whistled. He held the paper at arm’s length since he didn’t have his glasses on. “Okay. I can see that grade, Son, but am I missing anything else?”

  “It’s chemistry. I flunked the test.”

  His dad frowned. “That’s a low grade for you, Son.” He finally looked at Javier. “Maybe your mom can help with your chemistry homework. I’m the guy who didn’t finish college, remember?”

  Javier actually laughed. “I’m not eight years old, Dad. I don’t need Mom’s help with my homework.” He flicked his finger against the corner of the test paper. “I already know how to fix all the mistakes. I just did a wrong calculation that messed up everything else. It was a dumb mistake, that’s all.”

  “Hey, you come by that naturally. Ávila men make mistakes all the time.” His father smiled and gave Javier a wink. “But Ávila men are always smart enough not to make the same mistakes twice.” He handed Javier back the paper. “I’ve always thought a man learns more from a mistake than he does when he gets everything right all the time.”

  “I wish you had told me that in fifth grade,” Javier said in a sarcastic way.

  His father stood up. “What do you mean? What happened in fifth grade?”

  “Never mind.” Javier tossed the test paper back on his desk and picked up the broadcast tapes. “I’ve got something else from school to show you, and you’re going to like it much better than signing a sorry test paper.”

  Then he stood up and proudly gave the tapes of Guardian TV to his father.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Family came through the kitchen door like a Fiesta parade. Trey and Laura bounded into the room with a pair of balloons that proclaimed, “Get Well Soon!” They were followed by Leo’s twin sons and his daughter carrying more balloons and waving posters that read “We Love You, Javito.” Their moms and dads brought in pizza boxes, grocery bags with sodas and beer, and a two-layer-coconut cake for dessert.

  “We brought pizza for Uncle Javito,” Trey exclaimed. “We got five of them!”

  “How about pizza and a show?” Javier’s dad suggested in a loud voice. He held up the tape over his head and said, “Everybody grab some pizza. We’ll eat in the den. We’re all going to watch Javier on television.”

  Javier’s itchy feet were no match for the prickling heat spreading over his face. He never expected anyone but his parents to see that tape, and it was one thing to watch himself on Mr. Seneca’s twenty-inch classroom TV, but looking at his face on the big screen television in the den? Oh, man! Help me, St. Peter!

  His nervous heartbeat kept thumping away during the time it took to settle the children onto the floor of the den with their lap trays, for his brothers to bring in a few extra chairs, and for all the adults to get their own pizza and grab a beer or soda, and settle down to watch the tape.

  Once Javier stood at the cabinet beside the television, put in the tape, and pressed PLAY, he remembered how Pat used humor to get people on his side.

  Javier turned around and said, “This show might be better if everyone drinks three beers first!”

  When the adults laughed, it helped him relax. He sat on the floor by his dad’s chair and took a couple of bites from the pizza before he saw himself on the screen. He had forgotten how stiff and scared he looked that first day. He expected teasing from his brothers or his father, but they watched with great interest.

  Javier couldn’t help but laugh at Pat, whose humorous ad-libs and great timing added so much personality to the broadcast. He was reminded again of what a great television team they had created. And who wouldn’t be amused by the whole burrito-Burriola screw-up and their on-camera laughing fits? All the children begged to watch that one broadcast three more times!

  When everyone saw the music video made from highlights of the football game, Javier received more compliments and quickly gave Pat, Landry, and Steve their share of the credit.

  “Has Pat’s family seen that tape?” his mom asked Javier as the adults stood around the table while Leo’s wife cut into the cake she had baked.

  “No,” Javier said. “I really want them to see it.” Then he frowned because he had to return the tape on Monday. What if Pat is still in the hospital by then? When will he be able to show it to his family?

  His worries were interrupted when his elbow hit Trey’s head. “Ow!”

  Trey didn’t even notice the bump, probably because the boy bounced soccer balls off his head all the time. In a flash, Javier got an idea. “Hey, Eric, don’t you film Trey’s soccer games and make copies for all the parents? Could you make a copy of this tape for me?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Eric replied. He smiled. “How many do you need?”

  “I want one!” said their mom, followed by a chorus around the table by every family member wanting to watch Javier on Guardian TV again. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or flattered, but what really mattered was that Pat had a copy, and that his family made time to watch it.

  “Firemen arrived on the scene of a house fire on Mistletoe Drive, not far from Woodlawn Lake. It was after ten p.m. when the Fire Department got the call to fight the two-alarm blaze.” The young anchorman on the ten o’clock news described the events in a calm professi
onal tone, but his words made Javier grip the remote control in his hand. He sat by his mom on the den sofa. His dad had just taken his seat in a matching overstuffed chair.

  Visuals of Pat’s grandmother’s house crisscrossed with fire appeared on the television screen. Firemen sprayed the structure from two different directions, but the leaping flames, thick smoke, and messy drizzle looked just as dangerous on television as Javier remembered it.

  The anchorman’s voice continued to speak over the images: “The heavy drizzle did little to keep the fire from spreading through the old one-story house. The owner was identified as Adelita Mendiola, mother-in-law of prominent business owner, Benjamin Berlanga.”

  There was a quick edit to an on-camera interview with Pat’s father. He was dressed in a tie and dress shirt. He stood under a dark umbrella. His thin face looked washed out in the harsh spotlight of the television camera. “We’ve been trying for years to move her home with us. She lived all alone. I’ve been so worried about her, and now this fire!” he said. “She’s lucky to be alive.” He nodded toward the camera. “I’m so grateful to our outstanding Fire Department, to those firemen who rescued her.”

  “What?!!” Javier yelled at the television. He sat up straight, planting his bare feet on the carpet. He stared at the television in disbelief. “There were no firemen! Pat and I rescued her … and she didn’t live alone! What about Pat?!!”

  The young anchorman was back on the screen to finish his report. “Fire Department officials are calling this home a total loss. Cause of the fire is still under investigation. In other news … ”

  “I can’t believe that guy!” Javier clamped down on the remote control to mute the sound. “He totally ignored his own son! Pat’s lying in the hospital, and he gives the firemen all the credit for the rescue? What a bastard! No wonder Pat hates living with him!” He hurled back like he might throw the remote.