Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (23 page)

BOOK II

1976-1983

Los Angeles, CA

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MARTA WORKED DILIGENTLY AT HER SEWING MACHINE IN A
 small warehouse, surrounded by more than a hundred workers bent over their tables. Dust particles and lint choked the air, making her sinuses run constantly. She stopped for a moment and wiped away the sweat dripping from her forehead. The summer heat hung heavy throughout the warehouse, her clothes sticking to her, and the smell of people working fast and furious in the poor conditions grew sourer by the hour. But the job paid the bills.

The highlight of the day was arriving home to see Alejandro. He made life worth living. His cheery attitude and bright smile could wipe away the hardships of the worst days. It had been a long five years since the day she and Elisa had crossed the border. Unfortunately, not much had changed.

Marta and Alex were still living in the same small house where he was born on Washington Street, in a constant struggle to achieve a meager existence. America hadn't been the land of opportunity she once thought, but she knew that because her son was born an American citizen, he would have chances in life that he never would have had living in Mexico. Every once in a while, Marta's memories of Antonio would weave in and out of her mind, taking her back to a time when she felt full of life, her heart young and naïve. She could not help but still wonder on occasion how Antonio was doing, never forgetting the love they once shared. But her pleasant memories soon turned dark as she recalled the bitter discovery of who Antonio really was — a liar and cheat. There was no way around that. Denying it would be lying to herself. Facing realities was what helped to keep her working and motivated in a country she had not fallen in love with as she'd hoped. She missed her home, her culture, her life in Costa Careyes. She was grateful though that she had a job and a child who adored her, as well as her friendship with Elisa.

When she arrived home by bus, she checked the mail. Like clockwork every month, there was a check for five hundred dollars. The name on the check was from a company in Colombia called “
Por el gente
,” which meant, 
For the People.
 She knew that Antonio must be the one sending the checks. Marta was certain that he had somehow found out about Alex, because the money began arriving shortly after her son's first birthday.

Her initial instinct was to tear them up, but after thinking it over, Marta realized that she could use the money for Alex, to buy the things that he deserved. She saved the money each month, only taking out what she needed for her child. She put away the rest for him, hoping that someday, she would be able to send him to college. However, there was a part of her that didn't feel right about taking the money. Yes, the man was Alex's father, but Marta could not help feeling that by taking that money she was almost as much of a liar as Antonio was. She knew there would come a day when Antonio would want to see his son, and the money would then become an issue.

She and Elisa worked busily in the cove of a kitchen making tamales. Marta sighed.

Elisa stopped stuffing the masa with pork and looked at her. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Why such a heavy sigh. Why are you troubled?”

"I was thinking again about Alex's father, and I wish I didn't feel guilty about using Antonio's money.”

"Guilty. Ha. I think you're stupid. You should take all that money and move into a nice place. Get out of this dump. He owes you so much more than five hundred dollars a month. That money though could get you into a small house, Marta. You should do it."

"And where am I supposed to tell Alex the money came from?"

"Tell him the truth. He deserves to know, Marta. He needs to know he has a father." Elisa scooped out seasoned meat into the masa, and handed it to Marta who rolled it and tied a husk around it.

Marta shook her head. "I can't do that. I've told him since he was very little that his father was a hero, who died trying to save people in a building that crumbled during an earthquake."

"That's very creative of you, Marta." Elisa smiled. “I didn't know you had that in you.” She winked.

"Please. Leave me alone about this."

"Leave you alone about this? Then stop talking about him and thinking about him. Consider the money a gift. Treat is like it is. I've only heard this story a million times. Either use his money or quit complaining."

Marta sighed and gave her friend a dirty look. They didn't speak for a few minutes as they went through the repetitive motions of making the tamales, which they would take down to Olivera Street and sell .

"You still love him, don't you? You wouldn't think about him, talk about him and have these guilt feelings if you didn't."

"Stupid, I know," Marta whispered. Elisa walked around the counter and embraced her. Marta wiped away her tears, and let out a little laugh. “If something should ever happen to me, I would like you to hold the money for Alex in a savings account and give it to him when he is old enough and wise enough to handle it.”

“Why would you say something like that?” Elisa pulled away from her. “Nothing is ever going to 
happen 
to you.”

“I have to think about these things, even so. I have to make certain that Alejandro is provided for. I'm his mother and I, I mean we are all he has. No matter what I still may feel for his father, he has no right to my son and if something ever happens to me, I do not want Antonio near him.”

“Ridiculous. You're talking crazy words.”

Marta stopped set her tamale down and took her purse from the kitchen counter, pulling out an envelope, handing it over to Elisa. “This is the paperwork and information you would need. Promise me that you'll do this if needed.”

Elisa stood her jaw dropped. “I don't understand.”

“Take it.” Marta shoved the envelope at her.

“Of course I would do anything for you. You know that. We're not only friends, you and I. We are sisters.”

"Thank you.” Marta kissed her cheek and then looked at her watch. “It's time for me to get ready to meet Alex."

"My goodness. I didn't realize it was so late.” Elisa wiped her hands on her apron. “Hector!" Elisa yelled to the little boy tossing a ball around in the street. He came running in, panting.

"What, Mama?"

"Do you want to go with 
Tía 
Marta to meet Alex?"

“Yes!” the six-year old responded, grinning from ear to ear. His love for Alex was obvious as his face lit up with the prospect of seeing him soon so they could play.

Both children were unhappy that Alex was going to a new school, but Marta, wanting the best for her son, had arranged for him to be bused to one of the better public schools in the city. She knew that by doing so, it would give him more opportunities for a better education, and she'd studied what made successful people in America. Education was a key factor. It was why she took as many night classes as she could, when she could, and why she'd become an avid reader of history, politics, culture and anything else she felt would better her for her son and for herself.

"Go change your shirt first, and wash your hands and face. You look like a filthy pig," Elisa ordered.

Obeying his mother, Hector quickly did as he was told. With her hands on her hip, Elisa turned back to Marta. "I really think you should put Alex back in school with Hector. He is sad and anxious lately. You must see it. You know that they tease him there. He isn't white and he never will be. In their eyes, he's nothing but a poor wetback."

"I don't think it's all that bad. I think he simply misses Hector during the day. It'll take him a little time, but once he gets used to it, he'll be fine."

"You never get used to people making fun of you. You don't, Marta. This is a harsh world and I know you want to give Alex the best opportunities possible, but putting him in a white school won't help him. It's going to hurt him."

Marta leaned her head to the side feeling the crack in her neck, her face burning slightly. Her friend always spoke her mind. They definitely didn't always agree. "They'll stop. He's getting a good education. What more can he ask for?"

"To be happy," Elisa replied. “He deserves to be happy and you know that.” She took off her apron. “I have to get my shoes.”

Marta couldn't respond as Elisa walked back into her bedroom to put on her shoes. She knew that Alex hadn't been happy since he started going to the new school about a month earlier. But she was only thinking about him. The schools in their area were poorly structured, with teachers who couldn't manage the overcrowding problem. Marta knew that he was still having a hard time adjusting. She hoped that before long, he would fit in with the other children.

"Come on, let's walk to the bus stop," Marta called out to Hector, who was still in the bathroom, scrubbing up.

"I'm coming. Don't leave without me." Hector came bouncing out, a huge grin on his face. He grabbed Marta's hand and they set out on the mile-long walk to the bus stop.

She said a silent prayer that her child would come home with a smile on his face today.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ALEX WATCHED THE TRAFFIC OUTSIDE AS HE SAT ALONE
 on the bus. The girls across the aisle were whispering about him. Every once in a while, he could hear one of them say 
beaner
 or
wetback
, and the words sliced right through him knowing they were bad words about him. He swallowed hard and bit the side of his mouth. He wanted to cry. His mother always taught him to be proud, so he certainly wasn't about to let these 
gringos
 see that he was upset.

A large boy, a couple of years older than Alex, came and sat down next to him. Alex didn't bother to look up at him, because he knew what they were going to do. The boys in the seat in front of him turned around.

"My dad says that greasers are good for nothing but weeding his lawn. He can't believe they let you into our school," the freckled-faced kid remarked.

"Yeah, you're a wetback, right? Look at you, all dark and everything. You look like a monkey,” another bucktoothed boy taunted him, while the girls across the aisle laughed.

Alex wanted to get up and get off at the next stop. He ached for his mother to appear and rescue him. She would make everything all right.

"Beaner! Beaner! Beaner!"

"I bet your mama is fat and ugly, and makes you beans every day. That's why you're a stinking beaner!"

"Stinking beaner, stinking beaner — with a big ugly mama! Big, ugly, stupid, beaner mama! Beaner boy has beaner mama," they jeered.

 That was enough to push Alex over the edge. No one made fun of his mother. He shoved the huge kid as hard as he could, sending him off the green vinyl seat where he landed on the floor of the moving bus.

"You little son of a bitch!" the kid yelled getting to his feet and punching Alex in the face. Alex's head snapped back, smacking hard against the window. A surge of pain shot through his skull and he tasted blood on his lips.

The entire busload of kids whooped and hollered. The bus driver, hearing the commotion, pulled off to the side of the road, and walked back to see what was going on. The woman with three chins stormed over to Alex's seat. Everyone on the bus grew silent.

She looked at Alex, then at the other kid, and bellowed, "Who started this?"

All the kids pointed to Alex, who fought back his tears — a humiliation worse than the physical pain from the bump on his head.

The woman reached down and took Alex by the hand, walking him up to the front of the bus. She bent down, inches away from Alex's face. She took a tissue from the box on the dashboard and wiped his bloodied nose. In a lowered voice she said, “Listen, kid, I know you didn't start the fighting. It's not your fault, but take it from someone who knows, it won't stop. Kids are mean. They tease and hurt and well, it might be best if you talked to your mother about driving you or doing something else other than riding the bus. I'm sorry. Why don't you sit up here the rest of the way?” She pointed to the front seat directly behind hers.

Alex nodded his head. His mom couldn't drive him. Although she'd been going to school at night to become a citizen, she'd never learned to drive, and even if she could, they didn't have enough money to buy a car.

When he reached his stop, he saw Hector and his mama waiting for him as usual. His mother lingered behind as Hector ran to the door of the bus.

"What happened?" Hector asked, his eyes widening at the sight of his beaten friend. Alex burst into tears and could hardly steady his breathing. He finally gained control of himself and told his friend the whole story. Hector jutted out his lower lip. “I'll have my daddy beat them up. He will, too. He will beat them up and their dads too.”

When Marta approached Alex and saw that something was wrong, she cried out, "Oh no!” She pulled him into her arms. “Horrible, horrible children! You don't have to go back to that school. Never again, 
mijo
!”

With his mother's comforting arms wrapped around him, he sighed and leaned into her. After a few moments the event on the bus was on the way to becoming a distant memory. Alex let go of his mother and took Hector's hand as they walked home together.