Bodega Dreams (23 page)

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WHEN WE
were back home in the neighborhood, Nazario said he would speak with me some other time and to keep the suit, and my eyes, ears, and mind open. I was happy, but I was worried about Blanca. She must be fuming, I thought. Blanca would ask a million questions, and I went upstairs braced for another confrontation.

When I reached our floor and went inside our new place, our second in about a month, it got me down to see it full of boxes. All our things were so out of order, out of place, though the phone was hooked up. I walked toward the bedroom. I could hear laughter and small cries of
Gloria a Dios.
When I entered Blanca was sitting on the bed. Roberto Vega and Claudia were standing, holding hands. Near them were suitcases and tote bags. When they saw me, the room fell silent. Blanca smiled and carefully stood up, and I hugged her, not knowing why Roberto and Claudia were there. In a way I was glad they were, because I knew Blanca would never argue or grill me in front of them.

“Did you eat, Julio?” she asked.

“No, I’m just tired,” I said.

“Where did you go?” she asked. “We still had a couple of things to move.”

“Like I told Wilfredo Reyes, I had to get something I left behind.”

“Oh,” she said frowning. “
El Hermano
Reyes must have forgotten to tell me.” Blanca then faced Roberto and Claudia. “Can you believe this, Julio, they’ve been seeing each other in secret all this time and now they want to elope!” I congratulated them, shaking their hands and telling them that was great. Roberto and Claudia seemed happy but also a little dazed.

“Thank you,” Roberto said. “
La Hermana
Mercado has always been a good friend to Claudia and we wanted to know if you can lend us some money.”

“Sure.” I had Vera’s diamond ring in mind. They could go far with that.

“Well, I’m happy for them,” Blanca interrupted, “but they shouldn’t just get married.”

“Blanca, let them do what they want,” I said. I looked at Roberto and as casually as possible asked him, “You’ve finished high school, right?”

“Yes, when I was sixteen.” He must have skipped a grade.

“Good, and you have a place to live, right?”

“Yes, I have a brother in Chicago. We’ll get married and stay with him until I can get a job and Claudia can get her papers so she can look for work also.”

“See, Blanca, let’s just give them what money we can”—diamond ring included—“and let them go to Chicago.” I thought Robert was a smart guy. Besides, if he was really anointed by God then God was looking after him, and if he wasn’t, well, his plans were still pretty sound. He wasn’t talking about love conquering all. About love being all you need. Roberto was talking about paying the rent. This let me know he was, as Blanca had told me, an adult. Roberto and Claudia probably had a bit of money saved up and now they were doing the right thing, trying to get more. I had no problem with it.

Blanca was thrilled: The girl least likely to be chosen had been. It was like the story of Esther all over again. What bothered Blanca was the disruption this would bring to the spiritual peace of the congregation. The gossip and turmoil they would create by doing this in secret.

“Claudia,” Blanca said, “you know your sisters will hate you. They will accuse you of corruption. Roberto’s mother will hate you.”

“She hates me already. But I did nothing wrong, Roberto is in love with me and I love him.” Claudia was not in tears. She was worried but happy.

“Claudia did nothing wrong,” Roberto interjected.

“Roberto, you’re supposed to be an example. More than an example, what about your mother?” Blanca said to him. “You eloping will kill her. Just go and tell her you fell in love with Claudia and that you want to marry her. Let everyone know the truth. If they hear it out of someone else’s mouth then you will be ridiculed.” That made me uneasy. Without her knowing it Blanca was talking to me about Bodega. About things that I had yet to tell her. Things that I hoped she would never hear from anyone’s lips, Negra’s or anybody’s. “Roberto, you have to tell your mother. This elope stuff is wrong.”

“My mother won’t understand,” Roberto said. Claudia held his arm now, and nodded in agreement.

“Blanca,” I said, a little annoyed, “let them go. We can lend them at least three hundr—”

“No, Julio, this is a mistake,” she snapped at me. Then she looked at Roberto. “This is a mistake, Roberto, just go to your mother and tell her. Please.”

“Blanca, let them go.” I sighed. I was ready to hit an ATM. I thought it was all great. And I was actually happy that somewhere in this neighborhood young people were still falling in love. Of course they were. People are always falling in love, but at times it was easy for me to forget because even though I still loved Blanca, it wasn’t the same as before we were married, when nothing seemed impossible and even her religion wasn’t an obstacle.

“Thank you,
Hermano
Mercado.”

“All right, all right,” Blanca said. “Please tell your mother that you’re going to marry Claudia. If she disapproves, then you leave.”

“Blanca, let them go,” I said. “You have a place to stay in Chicago, right Roberto?” I asked him again. Blanca jumped right in.

“Do you know who this older brother in Chicago is, Julio?”

I shrugged. “A brother is a brother, right?”

“Well, that’s what you think. Remember Googie Vega?” Blanca puckered her lips and shook her head from side to side. “Roberto is his younger brother.”

Everyone had known Googie Vega. He had once been a good Pentecostal. He was seen all over the neighborhood preaching and playing handball. Those were his passions, Christ and a pink rubber Spalding. He was a tall, good-looking guy and, like his little brother, he was very popular. Googie was a bit older than us. He had gone to school with Negra, and she was always talking about laying him and all that stuff. Lots of girls liked him. It was common to hear girls say when they saw Googie preaching with his brothers on a street corner, “Thass a waste of a church boy.” And they would accept the leaflets he’d hand out, and agree to go to his Bible studies.

No one knew what had happened to him. Not even Negra. The Pentecostals said that the Devil must have gotten inside him. That demons invaded his thoughts. That he made the mistake of entertaining an evil desire and that desire gave birth to sin. It didn’t just turn into
a sin, it destroyed him. When it was obvious what he was doing the church kicked him out and guys from the neighborhood started calling him the Junkie Christ. He would hock anything and his eyes were like ashes. The same women who once harbored crushes would whisper as he passed by, “That guy was a church boy once and now he steals from his mother.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before, Blanca?” I turned toward Roberto. “You know, Roberto, Blanca is right. Go tell your mother.”

“You will kill her, Roberto. First Googie, now you,” Blanca implored.

Roberto stayed silent.

“Claudia.” Blanca held her by the shoulders and looked directly in her eyes. “You have to make Roberto tell his mother.” Then she turned to Roberto and said, “You know you will lose all your privileges.”

“We’ve talked about that,” Roberto said. “I don’t care if they take away my privileges, I can serve Christ as a regular brother. I don’t have to have all this status.” I liked him. His modesty and humility made me want to believe he might be anointed after all.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Claudia asked Roberto. “Because I feel Blanca doesn’t want to be the one to tell me. That leaves it to you.”

“My brother in Chicago,
Dios lo bendiga
, had a really bad drug problem. This was a few years ago. I was a little kid, the Lord hadn’t spoken to me yet. But when He did, my mother sent my brother away to Chicago to live with an aunt of ours, so that he wouldn’t embarrass me.” Silence fell in the bedroom.

Claudia understood everything. Roberto had been sheltered all his life. His mother was determined not to make the same mistake twice. She was going to protect her youngest from everything. Especially since he was one of the chosen, the 144,000 Revelation speaks about. The ones that will rule with Christ for a thousand years. Roberto’s mother had sent the eldest into exile and put all her hopes in the youngest. He was a great orator. That was a fact. But in the religious order to which Blanca and her Church subscribed, Roberto was something much more. He was a heavenly prince Christ himself had handpicked to sit with Him at His table.

“Let’s go tell your mother,” Claudia softly said to Roberto, whose
eyes began to water. They said goodbye to Blanca and me and walked out the door.

Blanca and I stayed silent for a moment. She was sad. Her friend had landed the biggest prize of her religion, an anointed one, but somehow she felt as if she was ruining someone’s life.

Blanca smiled faintly and then sighed. “I need to study and this place is a mess. I’ll be at my mother’s.” Blanca was spent. She picked up her schoolwork, kissed me goodbye, and before heading out the door asked me again if I’d eaten. I was happy because I knew that as soon as Blanca finished studying, she would talk with her mother a little, maybe have some coffee, and then return home too tired to talk. That suited me fine. She kissed me goodbye again and said I should study too. Finals were coming. I said I would.

I didn’t study. Even with the apartment empty except for boxes, it felt good to be all by myself. The wooden floors were all shiny. The place seemed huge. I went to the bedroom and got a pillow. I stretched out on the living room floor and it felt like I was swimming. All this space and freedom.

Then the phone rang.

“Got my stuff, bro?”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Fuck that shit, you know it’s me. Listen, I need that stuff. I’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“I’m comin’ ovah and, Chino, Bodega wants ta see you like now.”

I waited for Sapo downstairs with his envelope. I saw his car turn the corner and I walked over to the curb. He opened the door for me. He was halfway through an entire large Domino’s pizza. I handed over the envelope and he nodded, placed it in the glove compartment, and resumed eating his slice.

“Yo, Sapo,” I said, “you know that Domino’s gives money to those people who fuck up abortion clinics? You helping that shit.”

“Nah, get the fuck? You lying, Chino.” He seemed amused. He finished the slice, with his right hand reached into the backseat, uncovered the pizza box, and brought out another slice.

“Ho, shit, you still gonna go eating that shit?”

“I don’t care who they finance. Their pizza’s good.”

“Where’s your social conscience?”

“My wha’?”

“Something you stand for.”

“Tell you what, Chino, since you have plexes with the pizza, I promise to throw the box in the ga’bage. And as for what I stand for? I stand for myself. One man. Above God. With liberty and just enough patience with your fucken social conscience shit to kick yo’ ass out of my car. I’m like gettin’ tired of drivin’ you around. Bodega must think my car is yellow with a big fucken checkered flag on tha side.”

That night Sapo dropped me off at one of the new-old buildings Bodega had renovated on 119th and Lexington. Those buildings had been condemned for years. The City of New York takes so much time to either renovate or bulldoze a condemned building it’s like those guys on Death Row who die of old age rather than execution. Bodega had bought the entire row from the city and had slowly renovated three of them. He had improved the block. Improved the neighborhood. Given people a place to live.

After dropping me off, Sapo left in a hurry as if he had a lot of work to do. Nene was waiting for me downstairs.

“Whass up, Chino?”

“Whass up, Nene?” But I didn’t have the energy to meet his eager expression that night.

Going up, the stairs didn’t creak and the walls were freshly painted. The doors were new and the air smelled clean and moist as if it had just rained inside the building. Bodega had chosen a neatly furnished three-bedroom for himself. When I walked in he quickly placed an index finger on his lips.

“Shhh,” he whispered, “Vera’s sleeping.”

“You got problems,” I whispered back.

“It’s all going to be taken care of tomorrow.” He accompanied me to the kitchen, the room farthest from the bedroom where Vera must have been sleeping. Nene was in the living room watching VH1 at low volume, almost mute, as if it was the images that he cared for. I didn’t want to ask Bodega how he was going to take care of things. But he told me anyway.

“I’m meeting her husband tomorrow in the afternoon.”

“What are you talking about, bro?”

“Vera’s husband is coming tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait.” I couldn’t believe it. “Nazario just met this Italian about Fisch—”

“Hey, look, thass my problem. You here for something else?”

“Your problem? So why you had me go with Nazario in the first place?” I was upset. We weren’t on the same page.

“Cuz he handpicked you ta go. It wasn’t my doin’.” I remembered what Sapo had told me, that I was sitting on a lot of information and that wasn’t a good place to be.

“So, Chino, he arrives the day after tamorrow.”

“Who?” I was lost in thought about Nazario handpicking me, dragging me out to Queens. Why me? Why not someone else? He had tons of better-suited candidates, no pun intended. Bodega wanted me around because Vera was family; no matter how far apart they had been, she was still Blanca’s aunt. But what did Nazario need? He was the type who needs very little from anybody and if he ever did need something, he could get it from you without you knowing you had given it to him.

“Vera’s husband. That’s who.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you told me.”

“You all right, Chino?”

“Yeah, I’m cool.” I was still thinking about Nazario, but I had to let it go. I would ask Sapo or maybe Bodega at another time. I could never ask Nazario.

So I tried to shift gears.

“Bodega, you happy about this guy comin’?”

“Yeah, and I want you to be there, with your wife, you know. For support, you know.” His face was that of a kid on Christmas Eve who can’t wait till midnight to open his presents.