Ana Maria Reyes Does Not Live in a Castle

by Hilda Eunice Burgos

  Papi and I shook our heads. Gracie jumped up. “Come on, let’s wash that out before it stains.” She took Connie’s hand and dragged her to the bathroom. More importantly, she got herself out of there before Connie or Rosie could let the truth slip out. I shook my head again. That Gracie was pretty clever sometimes.

  Chapter 17

  As usual, a swarm of people followed us home after Mass on Sunday. Gracie was super happy when Mami invited Pedro and his mother too. At home, Mami went straight to the kitchen and got out a loaf of bread and a bunch of cans of deviled ham. Rosie stood on her stool and smoothed a thin layer of ham on slice after slice of bread. She handed each finished slice to Gracie, who covered it with another slice and cut the sandwiches into four tri­angles. Mami arranged the pieces neatly on a long platter.

  “Can I take these out to everyone?” Gracie asked.

  “Yes,” Mami said. “And help Abuelita entertain our guests.”

  Gracie grabbed the platter and ran into the living room with a big smile on her face.

  Papi stood guard over the coffeepot, waiting to pour as soon as the coffee was done. I took the tiny coffee cups out and arranged them on two trays, five cups on each tray, with a little bowl of sugar in the middle. After Papi poured the coffee, Mami took the first tray, and I waited for the second one.

  “You go ahead, Ana María,” Papi said. “I’ll take the rest of the coffee out.”

  All the seats were taken in the living room. Connie was on Abuelita’s lap, and my grandmother’s friend, Doña Paula, sat next to them on the couch, talking about her aches and pains. Pedro’s mom sat on the other side of Doña Paula with her hand over her mouth to cover her yawns. Gracie and Pedro were on the floor making googly eyes at each other. Mrs. Rivera was showing Rosie some new books she had in her bag. Ruben says his mom never takes a day off from being a librarian. That made sense to me. Why would anyone want a day off from books?

  “Hey, Anamay,” Ruben said. “I brought a new puzzle.” He took a box with an autumn landscape on it out of his mother’s bag. “It’s five hundred pieces, for ages twelve and up.”

  Ruben and I like to challenge ourselves. If a puzzle says it’s for our age group, we skip it. Too babyish for us. We sat at the dining room table and started with the edge pieces of the puzzle. It’s the only way to do it.

  Papi walked into the kitchen and Mr. Jiménez followed behind him. “I don’t understand these papers I got from the government,” Mr. Jiménez said.

  Papi took the stack of crumpled papers and looked them over. “These aren’t from the government,” he said. “They’re from your landlord. Have you paid your rent?”

  Ruben handed me an orange puzzle piece. “This one goes on your side,” he said.

  I took the piece and gave him a blue one. “This one must be the sky,” I said.

  “Let’s separate out the pieces by color,” he said. “That’ll make it easier to figure out where everything goes.”

  “Good idea.” Ruben and I concentrated on our puzzle. Around us, Papi translated the letter for Mr. Jiménez, Doña Paula and Abuelita gave Mami advice about something related to babies, and Mrs. Rivera read to Rosie and Connie. Mr. Jiménez’s baby let out a loud squeal, and Mrs. Jiménez walked around the living room bouncing the baby on her shoulder. Doña Paula’s son and his friend got into an argument over which was the better team, the Yankees or the Mets. It was a typical Sunday at our house.

  “Where’s Altagracia?” Papi asked.

  I looked over to where I had seen Gracie sitting with Pedro before, but they weren’t there. Papi marched down the hall toward the bedroom.

  “What’s going on in here?” He was probably at the door to our bedroom, but his voice carried all the way down to the rest of us. Even the baby got quiet.

  “We’d better finish this puzzle fast,” Ruben said. “I get the feeling this party will be over soon.”

  I could hear Gracie crying. “We were just talking,” she said. “It was too noisy in the living room.”

  “Come out here right now,” Papi said.

  Pedro’s mom jumped up and disappeared down the hallway. She dragged Pedro into the living room by the ear as Gracie and Papi followed behind them. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Mami and Papi. “This will never happen again. I’ll talk to him at home.” She was still holding Pedro’s ear when they walked out the door.

  “This certainly won’t happen again,” Papi said to Gracie, “because that young man is never coming into this house again. And you, young lady, are not going out for a month!”

  Gracie’s face was all teary. “I said we were just talking! Why do you make such a big deal out of everything? You’re ruining my life!” She stomped back to our room and slammed the door.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Papi said to everyone.

  “Oh, believe me,” Doña Paula said. “I understand the teenage years.” She went into a long, embarrassing story about something her son had done as a teenager. He kept interrupting to defend himself, and everyone else laughed.

  “Do you want to go talk to her?” Ruben said to me.

  “Huh? Who?”

  “Your sister. Do you want to go cheer her up?”

  “No, she’ll be fine.” I put a puzzle piece in its place. We were doing a good job, and we couldn’t stop now. Besides, Gracie didn’t need me, right? I wouldn’t even know what to say.

  Chapter 18

  Everything started going my way once Gracie was grounded. First, she wasn’t allowed to go to some Fourth of July party at her friend’s house. That meant Mami and Papi stopped nagging me to go with her. Also, things got really quiet at home. Gracie moped around for a few days, not talking to anybody and looking all sad. Connie and Rosie and Mami stayed out of her way, tiptoeing around the place and speaking in soft voices. Even Chichi’s twins were quiet when Mami babysat them two days in a row. This was perfect for practicing piano and studying for the Eleanor scholarship exam I would take in October. And I had a lot of work to do, especially on the piano.

  “What would you like to play at Lincoln Center?” Doña Dulce asked at my lesson. “I’ll need to notify the Piano Teachers’ Association by September.”

  “Do I get to pick?” I said.

  “Of course. I’ll help you come up with an ideal piece for you,” she said. “But I want to know what moves you. Something soft and emotional, or something quick and powerful? Or something in between?”

  What I really wanted was something that would impress the scholarship committee at the Eleanor School. But what would that be? “What’s Sarita going to play?” I asked.

  “Good question! You can’t both play the same piece.” Doña Dulce reached for a small notebook on top of the piano. She wet her thumb and forefinger with her tongue, and turned over a few pages. “Yes, here it is! We wrote down a few options and then settled on ‘Jeux d’eau’ by Maurice Ravel. It’s a beautiful piece, and challenging even for Sarita.”

  Even for Sarita. It must be super hard, then.

  “If you pick a piece now, you’ll have five whole months to work on it. Would you like to try Chopin again?” Doña Dulce looked at me with hopeful eyes.

  I wished I could play something contemporary with Claudia singing along like we always did when we got together. That would be fun. But maybe there was an impressive classical piece I could learn to love and play well too.

  “If you want, you can choose a piece that is easy for you to master,” Doña Dulce said. “You don’t have to decide until September.”

  “No, no, I want to challenge myself like Sarita,” I said slowly. I sort of meant it too. After all, I wanted to improve my playing and I also wanted to impress the Eleanor School. But what if I did a lousy job? Would it be better for me to perform an easy piece flawlessly, or to play a super tough piece with a few mistakes? No, for a full scholarship I was going to need to play something d
ifficult and play it perfectly. There was no other choice.

  “Are you sure?” Doña Dulce asked.

  I nodded.

  “Good! Let’s see what our choices are.” She stood up and opened the top drawer of the black metal file cabinet next to her piano. “You have excellent rhythm,” she said as she riffled through the books and sheet music in the drawer. “We should find something that utilizes that strength of yours.” She plucked out some yellowed sheets held together by a paper clip and handed them to me. Then she turned back to the file cabinet and walked her fingers across the books that were packed into the second drawer.

  I looked at the title page in my hand. “Meine Freuden” by Frédéric Chopin and Franz Liszt. This was definitely going to be tough if Chopin had to get help with it. I was afraid to turn to the first page.

  “Okay.” Doña Dulce sat down with two dog-eared books in her hands. “Here’s a Chopin book and a Liszt book. Take a look at all of these, pull the songs up on YouTube, really listen and see how they make you feel. We have some time to choose your piece, so don’t rush it. As far as practicing for now, let’s stick with what you know, keeping your fingers limber and your sight reading sharp.”

  For the rest of the lesson, I played finger exercises and some pieces I already knew by heart, like “The Happy Farmer” and “Für Elise.” The finger exercises were my favorites. Doña Dulce always marveled at what a great job I did on them. But with the songs, even the ones I thought were perfect, she always had something to say. “Loosen up! Use your heart, not your head!”

  What did that even mean? I always used my head when I did things well. After all, there wasn’t any other way, right?

  Chapter 19

  I woke up super early on Saturday. It was the day my family and I were going to the information session and tour at the Eleanor School. I was looking forward to seeing the school and learning all about the classes and activities. Also, I hoped to get some pointers about what it would take to get a full scholarship. By the time my parents and sisters woke up, I was already dressed.

  After breakfast, the telephone rang and Mami answered it. I could tell it was bad news, especially when she said the words I hated: “Don’t worry, we’ll be right over.” She turned to Gracie when she hung up. “Doña Paula’s granddaughter is in a panic. Her wedding is this afternoon and the dog ripped off a piece of her dress. Let’s go see what we can do to fix it.”

  “But . . . what about the Eleanor School?” I asked.

  “Ay, mamita, I’m so sorry, but this is important. Besides, as long as you see the school and learn about it, that’s all that matters, right?” Mami said.

  “Don’t worry, Ana María,” Papi said. “There will be plenty of opportunities for your mother to see your new school when you’re a student there.”

  I liked that Papi was talking as if I was definitely going to Eleanor, so I smiled and relaxed. “Sure, go fix the wedding dress.”

  Mami and Gracie left, and Papi went to put on a tie while I waited by the door with Connie and Rosie. I had told him he absolutely needed to wear a tie, which is why what happened next was all my fault. And what happened was that the telephone rang again.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Hi, is this Gracie?”

  “No.”

  “Anamay?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Sarita.”

  “Oh, hi, Sarita.” Why would Sarita call here? Did she have a piano question for me?

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I think my sister’s having her baby soon, and my dad’s at work, and I don’t know what to do.”

  I looked at the clock on the wall. We had to leave right away to get to the information session on time. Besides, Papi wasn’t a doctor. There was nothing he could do about this. “You should call 9-1-1,” I said to Sarita. “They’ll tell you what to do.”

  “Oh, okay . . .” Sarita’s voice faded away. “Well, thank you,” she said softly. Then she hung up.

  I smiled as I put the phone down. I thought that went pretty well. In fact, I should probably always answer the phone from now on. I could figure out a way to get rid of each and every caller. My parents didn’t understand that people could get by without them. They didn’t need to stop what they were doing and get involved all the time. They just didn’t realize that yet.

  “Who was on the phone?” Papi reached for the door.

  “Oh, it was just Sarita,” I said in my breeziest voice. “She asked what to do if her sister was having the baby, so I told her to call 9-1-1.” I started to walk out the door, like I knew no one would ever disagree with my advice.

  “What?” Papi said. “Lucy’s in labor?”

  “Well, Sarita’s not sure,” I said. “That’s why I told her to call 9-1-1. They could explain it to her, right?”

  “Is her father home?” Papi asked.

  I sighed. “No.” I could feel my control of the situation slipping away. It was happening slowly, like the sand under your toes when you stand at the edge of the beach. You barely feel it, but it slides away from you a little at a time. Before you know it, you’ve lost your balance.

  “What about her brothers?”

  “What about them?” I asked.

  “If Sarita goes to the hospital with Lucy, someone has to take care of her brothers,” Papi said.

  “Well, she has neighbors,” I said. “Can’t Doña Dulce watch them?”

  Papi frowned. “I think we should go help them.”

  “But what about the information session?”

  Papi put his hands on his hips and crinkled his eyebrows together. “I’ll call the school on Monday and ask for a private tour.”

  I could not believe this. I blinked and blinked, and my breathing became heavy. “It won’t be the same,” I said. “There won’t be presentations and I won’t meet the other kids who would start with me.”

  Papi looked at me and sighed. “Ana María, I’m sorry, but our friends need us. I promise we’ll figure out a way to see Eleanor soon.” He yanked off the tie and walked out the door holding my sisters’ hands.

  I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, wondering if I should stay and work on my scholarship application. But what if we finished quickly with Lucy and Sarita? Or maybe they were already on their way to the hospital, and their brothers were safe and sound at a neighbor’s house. The information session was scheduled to take a few hours, so maybe we could still catch most of it. I reached for Papi’s tie, stuffed it in my pocket, and followed after him.

  ***

  A screeching ambulance was inching its way down Sarita’s street when we arrived. “This is ridiculous,” Papi said. “It has no place to stop with all those double-parked cars in the way.”

  When we got in the building, Papi pressed the elevator button. “That never works,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot.”

  We started toward the stairs. Then a miracle happened: the elevator door opened. Rosie jumped inside and the rest of us followed. The door creaked as it closed slowly, and the elevator started to move just as slowly as the door. Rosie pushed the number 6 button over and over. “Does it know where to go?” she asked. The chunky wooden knobs were different from the buttons in the elevators in our building. Our buttons lit up when you pressed them.

  “Yes,” Papi said. “We’ll get there eventually.” But I could see that he was nervous. He held on to Connie tightly. When the elevator’s hammering noises got extra loud, he told Rosie and me to grab the walls. Finally, the clanging stopped and the door creaked open. “Go ring their bell,” Papi said to me. “I’ll hold the elevator here so they can ride down.”

  Sarita was in tears when she answered the door. “The ambulance isn’t here yet, and I don’t know how Lucy’s going to make it down the stairs.”

  “The elevator’s working,” I said. “My dad’s holdi
ng the door for us.”

  Sarita squealed like she had just won the lottery. “Come on, Lucy, the elevator’s working!”

  Lucy hobbled over. She grabbed Sarita and groaned. Sweat ran down her face.

  “Let’s go, boys!” Sarita called. Her brothers zoomed out the door and almost knocked Lucy over.

  Lucy moaned a lot in the elevator. This upset Connie, so soon she was sobbing. Papi held her in his arms and flinched every time Lucy cried out. He was probably thinking the same thing I was: It sure would be good if Mami were here. She would know how to help Lucy feel better.

  When we got outside, the ambulance had stopped in front of the building, right in the middle of the street. A bunch of cars tried to get by, but there wasn’t enough room. The drivers leaned out the windows, waved their arms, and yelled. But all we could hear were their horns, which they honked and honked without taking a break. Papi had to shout when he told Sarita to go with her sister to the hospital, and said we would take the boys to our house. She hugged him and thanked him over and over. Then she reached over and hugged me too. “Thank you so much!” she said to me with tears in her eyes.

  I wondered what Lucy and Sarita would have done if we hadn’t come over. What if something really bad had happened? If it had been up to me, we wouldn’t have helped them, so I didn’t think I deserved that hug. I looked away and said, “Okay, well, good luck. We’ll take good care of your brothers.” Sarita nodded and hugged me again before climbing into the ambulance.

  Sarita’s brothers ran like wild people down the street. Papi called them over and grabbed each one by the hand. He tried to chat with them the way grown-ups do sometimes, asking them their ages, if they were excited about becoming uncles, what their favorite subjects were in school. I walked behind them with my sisters.

  “What’s the matter?” Rosie asked me. “Are you sad?”

  I looked at Rosie and thought about her question. Of course I was sad. I had wanted to go see the Eleanor School and find out what I could do to increase my chances of getting a scholarship. And now that wasn’t happening. The information session was halfway over by now, and Papi wouldn’t want to bring those fidgety boys anyway. My eyes started to water again. But Rosie was just a little kid. She wouldn’t understand.