The Dead And The Gone (10 page)

As always there were a half dozen people sitting in the outer office, waiting for their chance to speak with the father. Alex took his place resentfully. If what Father Franco had to tell him was so urgent, why did he have to wait for an hour to hear what it was?

He should have looked at the bulletin board first, he told himself. If he got up now, he’d lose his place and add a half hour or more to his wait. He should have brought at least one schoolbook with him, since he had nothing to distract himself with except looking at the suffering faces of those who sat with him. Distraction would have been welcome, because he found he was beginning to hope. Maybe Milagro del Mar had been spared the tidal waves and Papi was all right.

Or maybe Bri was right and Mami had suffered some kind of accident and only now was able to tell people who she was and where she lived.

Or maybe Father Franco had gotten word about Carlos, through his Marine chaplain. There were as many good possibilities as bad ones, but Alex knew the good ones were more dangerous. It was one thing to say “Don’t give up hope.” It was another to have hope dashed time after time.

Eventually his turn came. He prayed for the strength to hear what Father Franco had to tell him.

“Alex,” he said. “I thought you’d come after school.”

“Father Mulrooney said I should come as soon as I could,” Alex replied, sitting down. He’d seen Father Franco at Mass just two days earlier, but already the priest looked years older. “Have you heard something?”

“Yes,” Father Franco said. “Oh, you mean about your father. No, son, I’m afraid not. Nothing new, at least. There is some communication now between San Juan and the mainland, but the fate of the little villages still isn’t known. No, that’s not why I asked you to come.”

Alex waited for the next body blow, that his mother’s body had been identified. But Father Franco surprised him.

“It’s about your sister, Briana,” he said instead. “Good news for a change.”

Alex tried to smile. “I’d like good news,” he said.

“There’s a small convent in upstate New York,” Father Franco said. “Really quite a remarkable place. There are six sisters and they have a working farm. They’ve decided to invite ten Catholic high school girls to stay at the convent indefinitely. The girls will work on the farm, but they’ll also be educated by the sisters, sort of a summer camp turned into boarding school. Most of the girls they’ve invited come from families who have connections to the convent, but I happen to know one of the sisters, and I told her I know a perfect candidate. I wasn’t positive how old Briana is, but I said fifteen and going into her sophomore year of high school.”

“She’ll be fifteen next month,” Alex said, trying to take it all in. “And yes, she’ll be a sophomore.”

Father Franco looked quite pleased with himself. “The sisters are only inviting girls who attend Catholic schools, but that should be no problem,” he said. “Briana goes to Holy Angels, doesn’t she?”

Alex nodded.

“Excellent,” Father Franco said. “I’m very pleased for you, for your family, and most of all, for Briana. I know what a devout girl she is, and perhaps growing up in the atmosphere of a convent, she’ll find she has a vocation. But even if she doesn’t, she’ll still have a safe place to stay, and you and your family won’t have to worry about her.”

“Just Briana?” Alex said, suddenly realizing that with Bri gone, he’d be left alone with Julie. “Couldn’t they take Julie also?”

Father Franco shook his head. “I asked,” he said. “But Sister Grace said the girls must be teenagers. Besides, they’re only taking one girl from each family. Briana is the perfect fit.”

“Thank you, Father,” Alex said. “I’m very grateful.” It would be good to know Bri at least was someplace safe.

Father Franco smiled. Alex couldn’t remember the last time the priest had looked so satisfied. “The bus leaves for the convent on Thursday afternoon,” he said. “Briana needs to be at St. Benedict’s Church, Madison and 112th, by one. She’ll need her baptismal certificate, her most recent report card, and a recent canceled check to Holy Angels. Can you find all that:”

“Yes, I think so,” Alex said. “Do you mean this Thursday?”

“The sooner the better,” Father Franco replied. “Imagine Briana in the fresh country air, eating eggs and drinking milk. Now here’s the information about the convent, its address and phone number. Sister Grace said that for the first month you shouldn’t call, since it’s natural for the girls to be homesick and it will be easier for them if they’re not reminded of what they’ve left behind. But I assure you, Briana will be in the best possible hands. When you see her next, she’ll be plump as a kitten.” He stood and extended his hand for Alex to shake. “Your family is in my prayers,” he said. “But I like to think one prayer has been answered.”

“Yes, Father,” Alex said. “Thank you for everything.” He left the office, then went to the nave, genuflected at the crucifix, then knelt in prayer.

Heavenly Father, teach me to accept all my losses, he prayed. And show me how to live in peace with Julie.

Wednesday, June 8

Alex watched his sisters leave for Holy Angels, then went to his parents’ bedroom to search for the papers Bri would need. there’d been no electricity the night before and he was uncomfortable enough with the idea of rifling through his parents’ possessions without wanting to do it by flashlight. Besides, he didn’t dare risk having Bri or Julie wake up. Better to do it Wednesday morning and get to school late. He wouldn’t even mind detention. The less time he spent with Bri[__] the better, since seeing her and thinking about how long it might be before he saw her again upset him fiercely.

It’s for the best, he told himself. Their food supplies were running low. Even if they skipped more meals, there was hardly enough left for two weeks. As it was, they no longer ate breakfast. With the school year coming to an end, Alex had no idea how they’d survive. This way, at least, Bri would have food, and what little remained at home would last that much longer.

Alex gritted his teeth and began going through his parents’ chest of drawers. He hoped he’d find a report card, since the sisters would be impressed with Bri’s grades.

The scent of his parents’ clothing nearly made him sick with longing. Three weeks ago, they’d been a family. Now Alex was exiling Bri, the sweetest of them all. Would he ever see her again?

It’s for the best, he reminded himself. He had to be strong, the way Papi or Carlos would be.

No report cards, no baptism certificates in the chest of drawers. He went into the kitchen and got the step stool so he could go through the shoe boxes on the top shelf of their closet. The boxes weren’t labeled, but eventually he found their report cards and Bri’s baptism certificate. He put the boxes back, carried the step stool back to the kitchen, and located the bank statements in a kitchen drawer. Then he took the papers to his room, hiding them under the top bunk mattress. He doubted the girls would ever go through his things, but there was no point taking chances.

Knowing he’d found the needed documents made him realize he was actually going to send Bri away.

Who died and made me boss? he asked himself. Not wanting to know the answer, he gathered his schoolbooks and decided facing the wrath of Father Mulrooney would be a welcome diversion.

Thursday, June 9

Alex had waited to tell Father Mulrooney that he’d be gone from school all day until after he’d served detention for being late the day before. Father Mulrooney had given him a ten-minute lecture on the importance of education in troubled times, but at least Alex didn’t have a guilty conscience about cutting classes.

He went through his closet until he found Carlos’s old duffel bag. It still had that faint smell of sweat and aftershave Alex associated with Carlos, but he doubted Bri would mind.

Alex wished he had a list of what Bri was going to need, but he hadn’t been given one. This kind of packing was best done by Mami, he thought. She’d done it for their Fresh Air Fund summers. She knew how to pack, just as she knew how to cook and clean and do all kinds of things no one had ever felt the need to teach Alex. And yet here he was, going through Bri’s most private things, trying to decide what she would need to have with her and what the sisters would provide.

She’d be working on a farm, he told himself, so she should have work clothes. It promised to be a hot summer, so T-shirts and shorts were good ideas. He added a couple of pairs of jeans and the oversized Vincent de Paul sweatshirt he’d given her for Christmas two years ago. Nights got cold in the country.

The girls might be expected to dress for dinner and they’d certainly have to for church, so Alex carefully packed a skirt and two blouses, as well as Bri’s best dress. She had her uniform on, so that was an extra blouse and skirt. She was wearing a pair of shoes, but she’d need something more practical for farmwork, so Alex dug out a pair of sneakers he was reasonably sure were Bri’s. Next came nightgowns and
la ropa intima.
Alex grimaced at the thought of handling Bri’s most personal clothing, but it had to be done. He pulled open the top drawer in the bureau, and trying hard not to think about it, threw an assortment of undergarments into the duffel bag. Nightgowns were a little less awkward, and he felt a sense of relief when he remembered that Bri would need socks, slippers, and a robe as well. He knew which robe and slippers were hers, so that was easy. Any socks would do, just as long as he left enough for Julie.

Next came the bathroom items. The nuns would certainly have toothpaste and soap, but Bri would want her own toothbrush. The only problem was Alex had no idea which brush was hers. He knew his, but Bri’s could have been any of the others. Not knowing what else to do, Alex threw all except his into the duffel bag. He could always find another one for Julie, he supposed, somewhere in New York, and if Mami or Papi came back, he’d find toothbrushes for them, too. As far as anything else a girl might need, he decided the nuns could handle it.

He found Bri’s diary and put it in the duffel bag. He looked around her room for something that she loved and would want to have with her. Most of the pictures she’d Scotch-taped to the walls were of TV stars, good-looking guys that Alex was pretty sure wouldn’t be welcomed at a convent, no matter how open-minded the sisters might be. But the postcard of the van Gogh painting
Starry Night
Bri had gotten because it reminded her of the night skies in the country should be acceptable, so he peeled it off the wall and slipped it into the bag.

What else? A photograph of the family, he decided, but that was in Mami and Papi’s room. A sweater. He found one in the closet and threw it in. A jacket? A coat? If Bri stayed at the convent past the summer, she’d need a coat. Alex felt his throat constrict at the idea that Bri might never leave the convent, that he might be sending her away from home forever. He told himself that whatever happened, Bri would be safe and healthy and he couldn’t guarantee that in New York. It was best for Bri to be gone. And he’d always know where she was. It wasn’t the same kind of gone as Mami and Papi. It was more like Carlos, only better, since the church would know just where Bri was and he’d be able to get in touch with her in an emergency. And she’d be on a farm, with other girls like her, protected by the sisters. It was the best thing that could possibly happen.

He rolled up Bri’s raincoat and put it in. There wasn’t room in there for her winter coat. He knew he should carry it but couldn’t make himself. If Bri stayed on into the winter, he’d find a way of getting the coat to her, he decided. Besides, the sisters probably were prepared with coats for the girls, just in case.

Bri’s rosary beads! No matter that the sisters would have extras; Bri had to have her own. They were on top of the bureau, and Alex packed them, then went to his parents’ bedroom and took the framed picture of the six of them that Mami kept by her bedside. Uncle Jimmy had taken it at Christmas, right before Carlos enlisted. Alex looked at it carefully before packing it. They all looked so much younger. Had it been less than six months ago?

There might have been other things Bri would want or need, but Alex couldn’t figure out what they might be. Besides, he had to get Bri to St. Benedict’s before the bus left for the convent, and it would be a long walk there from the school. He went back to Bri and Julie’s bedroom, gave it a quick appraisal, decided enough was enough, then went to his bedroom, and pulled the documents out from under the mattress.

He walked to Holy Angels and went into the school office. He didn’t know what to expect, but things seemed reasonably normal there, busier than at Vincent de Paul.

“I’m Alex Morales,” he said to a woman sitting at a desk. “Briana Morales’s brother. I’m here to take her to St. Benedict’s for the bus.”

The woman looked at him blankly. “What grade is she in?” she asked.

“Ninth,” Alex replied.

“Room 144,” the woman said. “If she isn’t there, try Room 142.”

Alex thanked her, walked down the hallway, and located Room 144. Bri was sitting at her desk, scribbling madly in her notebook.

Alex walked into the classroom and approached the teacher, sitting at her desk. “I’m Briana Morales’s brother,” he said. “I’ve come to take her away.”

The girls all looked up, Bri clearly puzzled to see him.

The teacher didn’t seem all that surprised. Judging from the number of empty desks, Alex guessed Bri wasn’t the first kid in class to be mysteriously called away lately.

“Will Briana be coming back?” her teacher asked.

“No,” Alex whispered.

“We’ll miss her,” the teacher said. “Very well. Briana, get your things, and go with your brother.”

Alex thanked her, and walked over to Bri. “Come on,” he whispered. “We have to get going.”

“Is it Mami?” Bri asked. “Or Papi? Are they home?”

“No,” Alex said. “Come on, Bri. Don’t worry about your textbooks.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “Just follow me.”

Bri did as she was told. They left the classroom, and then the school. “We have a bit of a walk,” Alex said. “All the way to Madison Avenue and 112th. We’ll cross the park at 96th. Are your shoes comfortable? You can switch to your sneakers if you want.”