A So-Called Vacation (9 page)

Gabriel ignored him in order to cover his father's charade, but he was also afraid that Gus might ask outright. Fortunately his father asked, “So is everyone ready for another workweek?”

“You obviously are,” said Paula, as she confiscated a bottle of liniment he was rubbing on his hands. “That smells nasty.”

“Fine. I'll do it tomorrow.”

“I'm saying don't do it, period. You're probably polluting every strawberry you pick.”

“This way whoever eats them gets a free laxative. Sort of like strawberries and prunes rolled up into one.”

“If you're worried about pollution,” Gabriel told his sister, “you don't have to go further than the bug killers they use on the crops. Birth defects, cancer, high blood pressure …”

Gus gave an exaggerated shudder to make sure he caught their father's attention. Then he added for good
measure: “There's no need to continue the list. None of that stuff worries Dad.”

“Why should it? If pesticides don't get you, something else will.”

“What about your kids?”

“I'm not planning to crank out any more.”

“What about the ones you already cranked out?”

“I want to make sure they're survivors. And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.”

“No,” said Gabriel, “it just makes you sicker.”

“So anyway,” said his father, “is everyone ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess so,” said Gabriel.

Yet the following day the aches and pains that he had accumulated and that the weekend had dulled temporarily now returned stronger. Still, Gabriel took some pride in the fact that his body was coping better. And now, aware of his limits, he paced himself more efficiently. Although still exhausted at the end of the day, he came out after dinner to watch Paula practice tumbling with two other girls.

“Look at her,” he told Gus. “She still has energy at the end of the day.”

“I'm looking, but I'm not impressed.”

“But she never complains. Even Mom's started to bitch a bit, now that she's out in the fields.”

“Well, Dad doesn't push Paula as much.”

“That's because she's the youngest,” said Gabriel.

“No, it's because she's his favorite.”

“Still, just standing in the field all day can tire you out.”

“You win.” Gus stood abruptly and brushed the rust stain that the porch chair had left on his pants seat. “I'll
have to congratulate Dad for hiring such a good attorney.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That you're starting to turn into his mouthpiece. Come on, Gabi, I thought we were in this together.”

“We are. That's why I'm trying to put you in a more positive place.”

“Sometimes I get the feeling you're trying to put me in my place, period. Just like Dad does.”

“This whole conversation wasn't even about Dad. It was about Paula.”

Gus noticed Victor returning from the bachelor's quarters, and as he stood to meet him, he put a work shirt over his undershirt to guard against the evening chill. “In this place,
everything's
about Dad.”

The following evening, the Anglo minister returned with several members of his church. The group included some teens scheduled to put on a variety show, and, despite the transparent proselytizing, the skits and songs offered the camp a welcomed break from the rural monotony. Even Gus seemed excited, as he pointed to the makeshift stage. “Look, Gabi. Honest-to-goodness college girls!”

For the younger teens like Gabriel, that meant fantasies, but little else. Still, girls in clean, well-pressed clothes made him yearn for home, even school. But for the older boys, the potential for something more was there, however remote, and for those like Gus, who had already dated an Anglo girl, the odds were not astronomical.

A few of the girls were attractive, and one in particular stood out. Although pale, she had a healthy, freckled complexion, unlike the pastiness of the Borrados, who were in fact clustered a short distance from Gabriel. He considered going over and taunting them that it was past
their bedtime. He even took a few steps in their direction, when suddenly the oldest brother started observing him intently with those strange eyes, as if intuiting his intentions. If anything, the staring made Gabriel even more determined to carry out the teasing. But then it occurred to him that the other teens might mistake the gesture for friendship, so he held back. The Borrado smiled, but with the same glacial gaze, as if he had stared down an enemy.

By now someone else had noticed the Borrados. Every so often the pale girl glanced their way and smiled as if they were old acquaintances. Her green summer dress, at once clingy and carefree, moved in magic synchrony with her long auburn hair. The effect was not lost on the Borrados, who grew more nervous.

“She's an absolute angel,” said Gus.

Señor Serenata's son gestured toward the Borrados. “And she's friendly to animals.”

An older boy whose acne had been aggravated by fieldwork agreed with Victor. “If she gave those guys a second look, we've all got a shot.”

After the show several of the older guys tripped over each other trying to impress her. They let Gus break the ice, which led Paula to shake her head as she joined her other brother. “Wow, I'd never thought I'd see the day when my brother, the jock, would end up as a spokesman.”

“I guess it's because he doesn't have such an accent.”

She gave an indifferent shrug. “Or else he's rehearsing for when he endorses sportswear.”

Gabriel, standing some distance from the group of older teens, remained at the sidelines of their fantasy, with his feet anchored in the real world enough to put things in perspective. He soon realized that the girl was not so much angelic as amicable, with a fresh charm that the church chaperones encouraged. She also had an obvious
and unfair advantage over the girls in camp—stylish clothes, fastidious grooming and a perkiness that was not eroded by the daily grind of fieldwork.

In fact, no sooner did the church girls leave than the fantasy started to fade. An older boy wearing an oversized Virgin of Guadalupe medallion outside his shirt commented with a sour-grapes voice that the group was just looking for converts.

“Then sign me up!” said Gus.

Victor agreed. “If that's how they want us to imagine their little corner of heaven, I'm all for that.”

Paula, still standing beside Gabriel, described in sobering detail how the young men had undercut each other in front of the Anglo girls.

“You can't blame a guy for trying,” said Gus.

“Even if you lose your pride? Besides, if Gus is so gaga about white girls, how come he was dating one who's dark?”

“How should I know? Maybe he wants to change his luck. The way things have turned out here, do you blame him?”

That night, while the older guys boasted late into the night how they could show the Anglo girls some real loving, Paula said to Gabriel as they walked to their quarters, “Can't those losers see the girls were making fun of them behind their backs? They were giggling at them, not with them.”

“Don't tell me you're jealous. And here I thought you had it all together.”

“Don't be silly. It's not like the guys here are a prize. They're all like our brother … Lenny.” When Gabriel's face furrowed, she added, “Oh, didn't you hear that freckled girl call him that?”

He thought for a moment. “Sure. So she made a mistake. So what?”

“Remember that American Lit class you took in middle school with Mrs. Gower? Remember that novel by Steinbeck?”

“Oh, yeah, about the two farmworkers. Something about mice and …”

“Never mind. Remember the retarded guy Lenny? Our brother Lenny?”

He started to protest that she read too much into the girl's mistake when suddenly he remembered that she had called him “George” a couple of times. He had written it off as another innocent mistake, but now he wondered.

Paula seemed to have read his mind. “So I guess that makes you the guy who looks after Lenny.”

It bothered him in a belated way that the girl had laughed behind their backs, especially with her religious airs, but it bothered him more that her beauty had blinded him to the sarcasm.

“Look, Sis, do me a favor. Don't tell Gus.”

“Why should I bother? He wouldn't get it anyway. After all, you barely got it now.” She turned to go, but not before adding, “At least I'm not the only one who thinks you guys are rodents.”

The next day Gabriel kept his distance from the rest of the family. By now his work felt more fluid and he didn't tire as easily, so he decided to pace himself discretely against the Borrado brothers. He was aiming ridiculously high, but somehow it made sense to measure his worth against sterling standards.

Observing the Borrados, Gabriel quickly realized that none of the younger workers could even touch the Borrados's shadows. Seasoned adults who might give
them a run for their money could be counted on one hand, with fingers to spare.

That morning, though, the Borrados were not competing with anyone else or even with each other, yet each seemed to strive for a personal best. He tagged behind them without being obtrusive and, being it was Friday, he could afford to push himself and have the weekend to recover.

In no time at all he realized his sorry attempt was not even close to a contest. As soon as he started to tire, his body dropped the fluid technique he had practiced and regressed to an uncoordinated, ineffective lurching. By noon he resigned himself to tailing the Borrados' father, who now wore the type of pith helmet favored by old explorers. Every so often Don Pilo paused to pull out a cigarette from the pouch that dangled over his left pant pocket. It was the same place where he kept treats for his sons. Around the third time he fished out his cigarette lighter, a few assorted treats slipped out and fell next to Gabriel's box of strawberries.

Gabriel secretly picked one up, then waited until his boxes were tallied to examine it. It reminded him of the Mexican candies his poorer cousins ate, especially the cellophane wrapper with its corny drawings of grinning children from another era. He brought the treat to his lips, where the clinging stench of cigarettes made him pause. He managed a nibble, but a chalky aftertaste instinctively made him draw away. He nearly threw it away, then rewrapped the candy in its cellophane and tucked it in his left shirt pocket like a talisman.

G
us opened the pay envelope and turned to his brother in disbelief. “This is it? I busted one buttock and half the other, and this is it?”

They had just left the crew leader's house with their full week of wages, and Gabriel, although somewhat upset too, was nonetheless grateful that the weekend had finally arrived.

When they reached their shack their father used a different tack to defuse their disappointment. “You boys earned a lot more this time. Just look at how thick those envelopes are.”

“Of course,” said Gus as he collapsed on his cot. “That's because this week we worked five times longer.”

“And I ended up with a ton of ones in my envelope. Anyway, Gus and I are tired. You guys can go into town without us.”

“Smart move,” said their father. “You'll have more energy for the work week.”

“What smart move?” said Gus. “We're exhausted, period.”

“Besides,” added their mother, “this way you can save your money for Disneyland.”

Somehow Gus found the strength to raise himself from his cot. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about Disneyland.”

When their father did not acknowledge the remark, the two began chirping like crickets in the awkward
silence until finally Paula said, “But how can you think about Disneyland when you're so dead-tired? At this rate we'll end up taking you in a hearse.” Before Gus could argue back, she added, “Anyway, who needs Disneyland with all of this?”

It was a one-two punch of sarcasm and callousness worthy of their father, who added a chuckle of approval as they walked out the door. The family had barely driven away from the shack when Victor called from his porch. “Hey,
buey
, I saw your family heading for town. Let's go hang out with some of the other guys.”

“I'm here with my brother.”

Victor said nothing for a moment, then replied, “I'm meeting up with some friends at a canal not too far from here. We're going swimming, maybe have a beer or two.”

He paused once more, and Gabriel whispered to his brother, “I thought we were both too tired.”

Gus whispered back, “We can rest when we come back.” There was an obvious edge of excitement in his voice.

Victor was now waiting outside the screen door. “But if you're babysitting … ”

Gus left his cot and quickly found a towel. “Gabi doesn't swim, but he won't mind hanging out with us.”