Chapter 29
Felix double tied a green apron around his waist and pulled on rubber gloves. A pair of goggles sat strapped to his head. Unfamiliar packages of powder and small brown bottles lay scattered across the counter.
He crouched down to eye level with the packages. His eyes searched for something. He looked up, and his lips parted into a smile. I smiled back.
My dad pushed through the kitchen door wearing a matching pair of goggles. “Felix is helping me with a new recipe for molasses.”
“Why would you need a recipe for molasses? It’s simple. You just take the piloncillo and melt it in a little water.” I picked up one of the small hard cylinders of cane sugar.
“This is a little different,” Felix said. “Come back here. We’ll show you.”
I put down the cylinder of sugar and followed them into the kitchen. The stovetop was lined with saucepans full of a dark substance in varying degrees of muddiness. It looked like genuine weird science.
“Want to taste it?”
“I’ll pass. Nice goggles, by the way,” I said. “I won’t even ask why you’re wearing those.”
“We won’t ask anything either,” my dad said and pointed at my arms.
I looked down at my arms and remembered the glue and confetti. “Excuse me,” I said and hurried upstairs.
I grabbed a loofah from the cabinet under the sink and jumped in the shower. I closed my eyes and let the hot water run over me. I scrubbed at the glue until I could see the cherry hues under the bark of my skin. I wrapped a supersized towel that felt softer than my own skin around myself.
There was a chaos of unfolded laundry on my bed. I pulled out and put on a pair of jeans and a tank top. I thought back to Colonel Franco’s announcement. The idea of returning to the park made me skip all the way down the stairs to tell Felix and my dad.
My dad was already clearing the counter and putting the packages away. I searched the kitchen, then the front room. “Where’s Felix?” I asked.
“He had to leave.” He locked the door.
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped. I walked back into the kitchen and rinsed out the saucepans, scraping at the gunk. “Why are there only two dirty trays?”
“I’ve cut our inventory down to bolillos and marranitos until La Gran Pirámide opens. It’ll help us save money on supplies.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
My dad sat down at the counter with his little recipe box and flipped through the cards inside. It was the box he kept tucked away in his wardrobe like a treasure. It was the same one he and abuelita Carmelita had carried away with them when the old baker passed away.
The phone rang once, twice, three times.
“I thought you guys were making up. Shouldn’t you answer the phone and talk to her?”
“Soon,” he said. He smiled. He didn’t tear his eyes away from the cards. I couldn’t help wondering what he was planning in his quest to win my mom back.
I picked up the phone even though I still grew more upset with her each day she didn’t come back. “Yes, Mom. We’re all doing fine. How are you?…my grandparents?…Hmmm, that’s good…Me too. Bye.” I set the phone down.
My dad picked up a pencil and scribbled a few things on one of the cards. “Felix is a really smart kid. I told him about this idea I have, and he’s been helping with it.”
“That’s good, Dad.”
“You should talk to him,” he said. “I mean, have a real conversation with him. He’s a good boy.”
“Really, Dad.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. I found myself thinking about Felix more and more. Only I didn’t think about talking—I thought about his lips and his suffocating eyes.
Chapter 30
The morning sun shone down on Felix, tinting his eyes the color of honey. I unlocked the door and let him in. “Good morning, Masi,” he said.
“Good morning.”
“Is your dad here?”
“He’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay.”
“Can I ask you something? Why didn’t Dr. Vidales Casal just put you in charge? You’ve been here from the beginning. I mean we don’t really need Belinda.” The question had just popped into my head.
“Belinda is very capable. She’s known Dr. Vidales Casal her whole life and learned everything from him.”
“Her whole life? How is that even possible?”
“She’s his daughter.” My eyes opened wide. Felix shook his head. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. Please don’t repeat it.”
“Why?”
“It’s her personal business. Besides, it’s not the only reason she’s here.”
I nodded. It explained why we were supposed to listen to her. It also explained the nice car and the look of money.
My dad walked in with a fresh pot of coffee, putting an end to the conversation. He poured Felix a cup. Felix grabbed the evaporated milk and sugar.
I watched them perform their morning ritual.
My dad sat down and brought his cup of coffee to his face. “Felix, I’ve been thinking about something. There’s no such thing as Cinco de Mayo bread, but there is such a thing as Día de los Muertos bread. We don’t always make it, I suppose, because we rarely celebrate it. Do you and your mom celebrate it back home?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“We celebrated Día de los Muertos back in my hometown, but we never have here. I haven’t made the bread in years. People honor their dead on All Saints Day and All Souls Day by going to the cemetery or setting up altars at home. The bread is sweet because everyone loves sweets. People leave it out like cookies for Santa to draw the spirits of their loved ones back for the night.”
“I bet it’s delicious.”
“We can make a batch if you have time, Felix,” my dad offered.
He washed his hands and grabbed the anise from the cupboard. He melted together warm butter, milk and water. He measured out the flour and combined it with yeast, salt, anise seed and sugar. He beat in the liquids and eggs. Finally, he kneaded all of his ingredients together until they turned smooth and it pulled back like taffy. “Cut this orange,” he said to Felix.
It dawned on me that Felix had somehow morphed into the son my dad never had and the other way around. I smiled. I didn’t mind sharing my dad if it kept Felix around.
We waited for the masa to rise. “I like to let it sit and rest longer usually, but an hour should be enough,” my dad said. He showed Felix how to punch it down and shape it into small loaves that resembled skulls and traditional rounds. They stuck the loaves in the oven and chatted about Felix’s school. After a while, my dad pulled out the tray and glazed the loaves with the juice of the orange Felix had cut.
“The finishing touch,” I said. I pulled out the necessary supplies and showed Felix how to decorate the loaves with candied fruit and colored sugar. My stomach was in revolution mode. I faked a cough, hoping to drown out any unwelcomed sounds.
“It looks great,” Felix said.
“Try it.” My dad motioned to the tray.
Felix tore off a piece and shoved it into his mouth. His jaw slowly worked up and down, side to side. His eyebrows shot up. He took a deep breath through his nose. His jaw relaxed. “Absolutely delicious!”
We polished off half the tray.
“Now all you need is the altar,” Felix said.
“We’ve never had one of those.”
“But there’s always a first time,” I said to my dad. Never mind that Día de los Muertos was months away. “We’ve got lots of stuff in the basement.”
I climbed down to the basement and looked for my mom’s big red wooden heirloom box. It sat on one of the high shelves. I set up the ladder to pull it down. I pulled and pushed the heavy cargo up the stairs.
Felix came to the doorway. “Let me help,” he said. He scooped it up as if it weighed no more than a cookie. I halfway wished there was more stuff, just to watch him do that again.
Felix set the box
down in the middle of the front room. I grabbed a plastic spatula and pried it open. My abuelita Carmelita’s lace tablecloths sat below some of my mom’s other things, wrapped in tissue paper. I brought one up to my nose. It still smelled of incense and Vicks VapoRub. I rummaged through the rest of the things. There was a small Virgin of Guadalupe and baby Jesus made of painted wood.
I caught Felix staring at me from the other side of the box. I couldn’t help hoping it meant he thought about me in the same way I thought about him. “How should we set this up?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Like the ones in church.”
We pulled out several items: the tablecloth, the Virgin, and Jesus. We put everything else back in and closed the box. I covered it with the folded tablecloth to use as the base of the altar.
“It’s missing something,” I said. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the picture of abuelita Carmelita. It was one of the few pictures that hung on our walls. The picture was old. It had faded. It was a good picture otherwise. Her hair hadn’t grayed, and her face was smooth and young.
I laid the photo on the tablecloth of our altar. I draped purple ribbons on it to fill the white space.
“It’s too low,” my dad said from his seat at the counter.
“Where else are we going to put it?” I shrugged.
“Drag it to the window for the passersby to see.” He walked over and removed an empty rack from the window. Felix grabbed a couple of cinder blocks from the gangway. He put them on the floor, in the space my dad had just cleared. They moved to the center of the room and carefully lifted up the box. They set it down on top of the cinder blocks without unsettling a single ribbon. My dad took a couple of loaves of Day of the Dead bread and placed them on a plate on the altar. They sat in perfect eye’s view. He disappeared and returned with a white candle in a clear glass. He lit it and added it to the altar. “Father Arturo gave it to me a while back,” he said.
“What time is it?” Felix asked.
“Five.”
“I should go. Belinda thinks I haven’t been spending enough time with the other businesses.”
“Go. We don’t want to get you in trouble,” my dad said. He was speaking for himself, because I didn’t care what Belinda thought.
“I can’t help it if I like hanging out here.” Felix winked. He was almost flirting.
I smiled. “I’ll walk you out,” I said.
Felix and I stood on the sidewalk in front of Burciaga’s. Neither of us spoke. He rummaged through his backpack as if he was the nervous one this time. “So,” he said. “I’m supposed to drop off some business books at Wong’s Taco Shop. Do you want to come with me?”
“Sure.”
“La Gran Pirámide looks incredible.”
“Yes, and it’s going to look more incredible each day now that Colonel Franco agreed to let everyone—not just the boys—help outside with the construction.”
“Maybe I can come tomorrow morning to help too. It’s funny how you guys call him Colonel Franco.”
“Well, he is a colonel.”
“He’s in the Army?”
“Retired.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“There’s nothing to know. After Colonel Franco retired from the Army and his wife died, he got really really bored. Iker says that’s why his grandpa volunteers for everything. Last year, he directed our school play after they laid off the first round of teachers at American Academy.”
“Sounds hysterical. I mean Colonel Franco as a drama director, not your teachers losing their jobs. See, it’s true that I really don’t know anyone else here that well. You and your dad are the only ones I really talk to. I visit with the others, but it’s not like this.”
More time with the others meant less time with us. I changed the subject. “What were you and my dad making yesterday anyway?”
“Agave molasses.”
“Agave? I’ve read about that. That’s the stuff they make tequila out of, right?”
“Yes. We’re using the nectar. Agave nectar is a sweetener pressed from the plant, like tapping maple syrup. It’s supposed to be healthier than sugar.”
“It was like gum. I had to run it under hot water for a long time so I could scrape it off the pans.”
“That’s because of what we did to it to try and make it into molasses. I’m sorry. I should’ve soaked the pans. My mother taught me better than that.”
“Do you miss your mom?”
“I do. But she’s also the reason I’m here. I want to do my part.”
I missed my mom too, but I didn’t say so. I didn’t want our afternoon turning into a pity party. “My dad really likes you,” I said instead.
“Do you like me?” he asked. The heat rose to my cheeks. I looked at my feet.
I looked up again. We were somehow now in the alley behind one of the abandoned buildings south of the bakery. I backed up against the wall. Felix’s face hovered two inches from mine. I breathed in his smokiness. He reached over my head and braced himself on the wall.
That thing fluttered inside me.
This could be it, I thought. I shut my eyes and raised my face up to his. His lips crashed down on mine. It wasn’t like I’d imagined. No, his lips were rough. I stepped back. Maybe Felix could read my mind. His savage lips went Dr. Jekyl. They parted against mine, soft and gentle. He tasted of fruit sprinkled with salt. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow us whole. I wanted to die in the moment.
He pulled away. “That was nice,” he said.
I opened my eyes, and we were back on the sidewalk. It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure it’d happened at all. He walked down the street. I stumbled behind him. The fluttering didn’t stop. That thing inside me kicked up the air. “I like you,” I mumbled.
He stopped at Wong’s doorstep. “Time to go in. See you soon?” I nodded. He squeezed my hand and disappeared into Wong’s Taco Shop
I kept thinking about Felix’s playdough lips, textured with fingerprints, soft as if molded, soft like warm rolls, soft to kiss. I thought I might fly away. I didn’t walk. I floated home.
A song lived inside me. Felix, Felix.
I anchored myself to the front steps of the bakery and closed my eyes. I put my palm on my chest. I’d waited my whole life to fall in love. I didn’t believe I exactly had to be loved back in order to call it falling in love, and I was sure that this is what I was feeling. Never mind that I still didn’t understand what his connection to Belinda was. Never mind that there were bigger things to worry about than boys.
I opened my eyes and looked out at the valley of empty buildings. The beacon of steel, brick and mortar jutted out above everything on the southeast side of Pig Park. I sat out there until the night shadows nudged me to go inside. I went to my room, flung myself on my bed, and listened to the possibilities.
Chapter 31
The oven clunked and moaned—on the verge of swallowing my dad. He crouched halfway inside its iron jaws. “Is that safe?” I asked.
“They don’t make them like they used to. When I was an apprentice baker, we used a coal oven.”
“That was a long time ago.”
No oven meant no morning bread and nothing to clean up.
I walked to the Nowak’s.
Mrs. Nowak had a green thumb. She grew most of the vegetables for the grocery store herself in the summer. There were herbs in the basement, corn on the rooftop and everything else in the backyard. The day was so hot that half the vegetable bushes Mrs. Nowak had planted in the backyard had thrown up their arms and turned over in the heat.
Marcos and Josefina walked out the door. “Your tomatoes are dying.” I pointed at the sideways bushes.
“Nah, my mom just sprinkles them with water at night, and they bounce right back.” Marcos smiled.
Maybe the pyramid was like water to Pig Park.
I looked at Josefina and waited to see if she noticed anything different about me. My dad had acted normal enough in the morning. I’d spent half th
e night looking in the mirror.
I waited the whole walk to the park, but Josefina didn’t say anything. It was just as well. I didn’t want to talk about Felix in front of Marcos. I didn’t feel like getting teased. More importantly, he didn’t need to know.
We walked up to the pyramid and went inside. Felix was there. He flashed his white teeth. The smile wasn’t any different than usual, but the heat still rose to my face. I put my hands over my cheeks until I could look at him again.
Maybe I had imagined the kiss.
I looked around the room. A jumble of wires and pipes had somehow made it onto the walls. Colonel Franco cleared his throat. “A contractor friend of Jorge Peregrino’s came in during the weekend and laid out the electrical and plumbing. He pulled in lines from the street lamps and the park’s sprinkler system. All we have to do is tack on the walls.”
Mr. Nowak pulled up in Peregrino’s van and parallel-parked ten feet away. Blonde plywood sat stacked high on the luggage racks. The back doors were tied closed to make room for even more wood. The weight of the load pushed the white steel frame of the van low on its tires so that the exhaust almost scrapped the street.
“I went out looking for drywall. I got a much better deal on these wood panels. They won’t require taping or paint,” he explained. He tapped the side of the van with his large hand. The boys erupted into applause.
“Good thinking, Dad.” Marcos patted Mr. Nowak on the back.
“Less work for us,” Pedro Wong said.
“I’ll leave the keys here. You can get the van back to Peregrino when you’re done.” Mr. Nowak tossed the keys at Colonel Franco and waved good-bye.
“Pair up and start unloading,” Colonel Franco said to us. “Stack them flat, and put a couple of four by fours between each. We need to acclimate the wood before we can use it.”
Each panel was only about an inch thick, but they were tall and wide enough to keep us from moving more than a stack of two or three at a time. It was so hot that I could feel the salt oozing from my pores. I was grateful to have on a tank top.
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