We spend our days
walking up and down the rows of cotton, onion and lettuce fields or we pick
oranges, lemons and peaches from the sweet smelling orchards whose limbs rise
and sigh as we pick the swollen fruit. Picking peaches is my favorite work,
because mom is happiest here. I can hear
the men call back and forth to each other in a language of whistles and chirps.
We are sheltered from the sun by the trees.
My mom talks about god here more than anywhere else. “ This is God’s work, all of this!” my mother
says as she lovingly sweeps away the fruit flies that try to ambush the half
eaten juicy peach that drips from my young mouth. Her hands sway back and forth like
a hypnotist’s watch as they move through the air. Her magic creeps inside me and I know this is
where I want to be.
I had never imagined god was so great until
the first morning we worked in the cotton fields near South
Mountain . I saw the gold sun rise over the mountain
covered in saguaros and brush. God crept
slowly as his rays started to shoot into the gray- blue darkness and into my
eyes. The rays creep up my spine and cause glorious shivers that explode with
brilliant flashes of light as they leave my pores. Those are god spells my mothers laughs. God
is calling you. He is in here now. She says as she touches my heart. God calls
me every morning in the fields. Now he is calling you. Is this where god has been I ask? Does he live over that mountain? And how does
he know which field the truck will drop us at in the morning? God is not a person she says, God is
everything. She points to my sisters walking side by side helping each other
stay ahead as their hoes whack the weeds that push through the young green
cotton. God is with them right now and at home with my babies. I don’t quite understand but I feel what she
means. She moves ahead and hums a Yolanda Del Rio song. God begins to hum in my heart and the earth
is good. I am watching something that
is not supposed to be seen. Daybreak is the moment when god changes time,
before the birds begin to sing and after the nightmares have been put
away. I am watching the earth wake as my
mother and sisters lose their shadows in the rising sun. We walk innocently and
unaware. I only known that I am working
and walking next to the most important person in my life and god is here with
us in the fields.
This summer is a
fruitful summer and having my extra paycheck allows my mother to relax a
little, laugh a little more and pay our bills on time. We know school starts in August and all of us
except Angel my baby sister will be attending.
We start school clothes shopping in mid July. My mother has saved enough money to layaway
our clothes for the remainder of the month.
She takes the girls shopping and then the boys. There are eight of us kids to shop for 4 boys and 4 girls. We layaway our clothes at JCPenney’s and
Kmart. We have 4 more pay checks to pay
for the clothes and we will pick them up a week before school starts my mother
says. Once they are on layaway we spend
our summer evenings sharing with the each other the outfits we picked out and
how we looked in them when we tried them on.
This is the first year I do not have to dress exactly like my little
brothers. This is the first year we all
get new school clothes.
One evening my
mother comes home from grocery shopping with Big Mary her best friend. Big Mary grabs my face and kisses me with
her wet lips. You are going to be a movie star mijo, and you look just like
your father. She says. My mother puts down her grocery bags and gives Big Mary
a dirty look. She says“ He is a
good-looking boy but don’t say he looks like that man. He looks like my father an Indian.” Big Mary lets me go from her tight
embrace. Calmate’ Maria” she whispers to
my mom. “It is his day” My mother’s face softens as she pulls a pair of brand
new Levi’s from among the bags scattered on the linoleum floor. Mijo these are
for you. You worked hard this summer and no one but you and I know what it
means to have you helping. Go try them
on.
But take a shower
first! Laughs Big Mary. We are taking
you with us to the Cine’. You will be our date.
I stand staring at the Levi’s as tears well in my eyes. My mother bends
down and kisses my head. Go now. She
says. Get ready. Big Mary whispers “Maria he is too sensitive” he will have
trouble later if you don’t toughen him up.
I run towards the bathroom and
shrug off the whispered concerns of my manhood and clutch my New Levi’s too my
chest. I cannot believe My mom has
bought me a pair of Levi’s. Levi’s are
for older people like my sisters and the guys that tried to sneak around the
house. I cannot believe this is happening! To go to the Mexican movies is one
thing, new Levi’s another but in my heart an evening alone with my mother is
the real prize. Big Mary being there
doesn’t matter because mom and I have a secret way of speaking. I always hear
her in my heart even when she has no words.
I quickly take a shower as my brothers and
sisters began to banter back and forth with my mother on not being able to
go. I hear my mother’s voice trying to
contain her laughter as my siblings try to wheel and deal their way into our
evening. Big Mary’s booming laughter,
moaning shower pipes, the pleading voices of my brothers and sisters become the
symphony that accompanies the bursts of water that splash in my shower and day
dreams of this evening.
I step out of the
shower and looked in the mirror. The
little curly black haired boy is looking at me.
He counts his freckles, pushes back his ears, and giggles as he tries to
tame the wet black curls that cling near his big brown eyes. I look in the mirror as I leave the
bathroom. He waves goodbye, I wave back
and my towel falls to the floor.
I dress in the room
I share with my little brothers. I smell the New on the Levi’s as I cut the
tags with my teeth. They are stiff with
the starch that shouts to the world that they are not hand me downs or from the
second hand store that sells the castaway clothes of my schoolmates. The
clothes that cause them to jeer and laugh at me when they recognize them as
once their own. I pull my New Levi’s up
over my legs and button the fly fumbling at each button as I push the shiny
silver buttons through the new holes. I roll them into 2-inch cuffs, as is the
style. I reach under the bed and grab my
faded red low top Converse All Stars. A whiff of aged rubber drifts in my face
as I lace each shoe. My mother is calling me as I stretch my white Fruit of the
Loom undershirt over my head and run towards the living room. It is too hot to wear a second shirt.
I jump in the back
seat of my mother’s 1966 baby blue impala and we drive off out of the Hamilton
Housing Projects and head towards Phoenix . I know Phoenix
is west of Chandler because the sun sets in the
west and Phoenix
is where all the skyscrapers, movie stars and rich people live. Phoenix
is where the Palace West Theatre is. Big Mary shouts over the Mexican
music “Maria play the tape! Where is the
tape?” My mother pushes in the 8 track
of Yolanda Del Rio as I stare out the window trying to catch images in the
passing windows that we speed by. Yolanda is singing her heart out and half
opened windows rattle and shake to the beat of Mexican arias and bare tires
fighting the stressed cracked asphalt beat earlier by the Arizona sun.
We reach the Palace
West theatre. I stare at the Marquee. I
have never been to a theatre so grand! My grandmother said once that The Palace
West is on its last legs as is downtown Phoenix
and shows Mexican films only to wetbags and whores. I don’t care. Today, tonight in my eyes it is
the grandest place I could ever have imagined.
The film showing is “La Hija de Nadie” with Yolanda de Rio. I am
thinking my mother and Yolanda Del Rio look alike maybe that is why my mother
loves her so much. As the movie starts I
stare up into the screen at a beautiful Mexican woman that was raised an orphan
and seems to suffer as beautifully as she sings. Even her songs are sad. I do not speak too much Spanish and my mother
kindly shares the story with me as it unfolds. I can keep up but I lose
interest after a while and I begin to imagine who will be in my 5th
grade class that starts in 2 weeks. I hope we don’t move again, I hate starting
a new school. I don’t mind moving, I just don’t
make friends easy.
Besides I want to
wear my new Levi’s on the first day of school.
I want the kids that laughed at me last year to see how I have
changed. I plan to be careful and not
dirty my new Levi’s; In fact I decide I will not wear them again until the
first day of school. “Mom can I go to
the bathroom? I lean over and whisper. I catch her head as it nods in the light
of the movies screen. She touches my hand. Hurry back mijo, she whispers.
I do not really need to go to the restroom. I
am bored and I want to explore the beautiful theatre. I want to look at the posters of movie stars
and walk on the marble staircase that leads to the balcony. The theatre lobby
is empty except for the Mexican girl scooping popcorn into red and white
striped boxes. I wonder if it is circus popcorn. I have never been to the circus so I wouldn’t
know. But I wonder. I pretend I know where I am going as I run my
hand along the cold marble walls. I can
see cars passing by outside the theatre and watch people walking by and looking
in. Can they see me? I wonder.
The bathrooms are down
a flight of stairs and I walk down into the largest, fanciest bathroom I have
ever seen. There are floor to ceiling
mirrors and chandeliers. The walls are lined with shiny white urinals that
almost reach my head. Dark gray paint
covers the metals doors of the toilet stalls and stand ominous and sterile.
They remind me of the confessionals at St. Mary's Church that i used to sneak into and sit waiting for god to question me, that is until Sister
Catherine dug her finger nails into my arms yelling at me to get and stay out. How was I supposed to know I was still a pagan? God never came into the confessionals anyway, at least while I was in there.
I glance towards the
huge mirrors and I am still there. I
have this whole grand ballroom to myself! Me myself and I! I walk up next to
the mirror at the end of the stalls and smile because the curly haired boy is
in the mirror. He is smiling. I don’t mind him being here with me, i stare into his eyes in the mirror, catching his smile and agreeing it is a very special day.
I hear the squeaky door of the restroom open
and I quickly jumped in front of a urinal near me and unbutton my pants. I cannot be caught daydreaming in the mirror.
I am not a little boy anymore. A man
approaches the urinal next to me and says hi in Spanish. He keeps talking. He is speaking to me in Spanish but I did not
understand him. I begin to button my pants to leave and the man reaches for
me. I cannot understand what he is saying
but his pants are undone and he shoves me headfirst into the nearest stall. He covers my mouth with his sour hand, and
keeps talking in a lowered, rushed voice.
He pushes my head against the white tiled walls as I feel him force the
buttons on my new Levi’s. The buttons fight back but then they pop and give
way. I cannot think anymore, spots float
in my eyes and I try to push away but he drops his hand from my pants and slams
my head into the wall. My head bows as I watch my new Levi’s crumple to the floor and cover my red sneakers. He forces himself inside me and I begin to
cry as he muffles my sobs with his sour hand gripped tight over my mouth. I can see myself from the top of the stall as
I float up, out and away from the pain.
I watch as my tears fall into the toilet. I wonder as I sit on top of the stall and
watch if the little boy’s tears will find the same ocean that he imagines when
his mother makes her tortillas. I
wonder as I watch if his mother will pull him from this nightmare. The squeaky restroom door opens again and I
freeze with fear. Someone else had come into the restroom. I hear the click clack of someone’s heels on
the marble floor. Someone’s footsteps click closer to my shame. Someone flushed a toilet nearby and walked
away. The squeaky restroom door closes
and a flash of white pain sears through my body. The man tightens his sour sweaty hand over my
mouth, sighs and shudders. I watch my
tears falling like lost raindrops in a storm. They fall silently into the toilet;
I try to imagine my ocean, but all I can see are the dirty yellow stains on
the toilet seat and the small curly black hair that cling to the sides.
Someone’s face looks up at me from the toilet, it seems familiar, but it fades
away.
I can hear the man
rustle his clothes but I do not want to turn around. I am afraid to look, afraid to move. I stare at the white tiles that have now turned gray. I turn around slowly after he leaves and sit
on the toilet and softly cry. I notice the graffiti on the stall but it is
in Spanish and I cannot understand the scribble. There is so much I do not understand. I pull
my scratchy Levi’s up and dust off the dirt that had gathered on the pant legs
that were crumpled on the dirty floor. I
leave the stall. I do not look in the
mirror. I leave the bathroom. I walk by the popcorn girl but I am afraid to
look at her; I know she knows. I find
my mother in the darkness and stare up at the screen as Yolanda Del Rio commits
suicide.
My mother and Big
Mary talk about the movie on the drive home.
The Mexican music plays on the radio but all I can hear are muffled
voices and distant sounds. I keep both
back windows all the way open as we drive home. The warm air carries out the
sounds inside the car and creates a wall between the front seat and me. I do not want my mother to smell what happened.
I do not know how to be. My stomach
hurts deep inside as I lay on the seat looking down at torn carpet that holds
peanut shells, bits of plastic and a peach seed I had lost earlier in the week.
It is funny how it is just laying there. Why did I not see the garbage
earlier? My new Levi’s itch. They felt like the torn dirty carpet would
feel on my bare feet. I can feel
something sticky trickle down my thigh and I hope it isn’t blood. Mijo are you OK? My mother asks. I lied. Yes mom, I just have a stomach ache and
am tired. I replied, “ I am not tired. I
am afraid. I am afraid of bathrooms. I am afraid of Mexican men. I am afraid I
am going to die tonight.” I want to cry. I want to crawl into her arms and smell her
mom smell. I want to feel her fingers in
my curly black hair. But I am silent and
she continues talking about Yolanda Del Rio as I watched the neon lights of Van
Buren’s seedy motels whip by. I watch the colors and lights bounce off the shiny silver trim inside the car. I am dizzy.
I wonder if I am going to make it home.
I wonder if my stomach is going to explode in the car.
When we arrived home
my brothers and sisters are asleep. I
walk into the bathroom and bathe quietly as my mother lights her altar and
prepares for bed. I am afraid to look in the mirror. I slowly turn towards the little boy in the
mirror but he is gone. It is just me in the mirror. Just me and my strange dirty face. I
climb up to my bunk and stare out the window up towards the stars. I wonder where aliens live? I wonder what
they wear? I know they do not wear
Levi’s. I know what happened has happened because of my Levi’s. I stare down at
the new silver buttons glowing from the moonlight, the moon light that filters in like fingers
through the torn window screen, reaching towards me. I climb
out of bed grab the Levi’s and walk through the warm sticky darkness towards
the dumpster near our house. My feet and chest are bare as I stumble through
the rocks and broken glass careful not to make any noise. I look down as the
lights play with the cows and clouds that live on my pajama shorts. For a moment I am caught in the silent film
that rolls off my shorts.
I open the dumpster lid and drop my new Levi’s
into the smelly darkness. The grease and rotten vegetables steam up towards my
face leaving my stomach retching the leftovers of god and my soul. As I lean
against the brick wall that fences off the garbage, an alley cat purrs against
my legs and begins to lick the left over contents of my stomach now splashed on
the greasy concrete floor. I wonder if
she ate my soul? Did she eat god? I
walk back to our house and I promise myself, to never wear Levi’s again until I know how. I promise myself because god cannot hear me and my mother is fast asleep dreaming about La Hija de Nadie. (The daughter of No One).