Page 8 of Trouble Is...

Chapter 8

  My grandmother set a plate of enchiladas in front of me, in a thick red sauce with yellow cheese melted on top. And a cool green salad. She was smiling at me. Music was playing. I woke up. Darkness. The music started again. My cell phone.

  I picked up my phone and saw it was Maria. “Maria…” I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up. I sat on the edge of the bed. I could hear her crying. I remembered that she was alone with her stepfather. “Maria?”

  “Can you come get me?” She was crying so hard she had to pause for a breath after every word.

  “What’s the matter? What happened?”

  “My stepfather.” She tried to say more, but couldn’t.

  “Where are you? At home?”

  I heard her take a big breath. “No. He’s drunk.”

  “Where are you?” I felt desperate, like something terrible was going to happen to her and I couldn’t help her..

  “Outside the 7/11. Please come get me. I’m scared.”

  “Across from McDonalds?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m scared.”

  “It’ll be OK. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

  I heard her blow her nose, then come back on the phone. “I have a cousin in Thousand Oaks. I can go there. Maybe I can take the bus or something. Do you know how to take the bus to Thousand Oaks?”

  “Let me talk to my brother. Just hang on a second.”

  “Hurry.” Her voice was so small and vulnerable that I felt my throat squeeze painfully.

  The door to Frank and Imelda’s room was open a crack. I pushed it open another inch or two. “Frank?” I whispered. Nothing. “Frank?” I said a little louder. I heard the bed creak.

  “What’s going on?” Imelda asked.

  “I need to talk to Frank.”

  “I’m here,” he said gruffly. I heard the bed creak again and his bare feet on the floor as he walked to the door. He stepped into the hallway and quietly pulled the door closed behind him. “It’s 2:30,” he said.

  “Maria needs help. She’s a friend from school. Her stepfather’s drunk and he’s beating on her. She’s at the 7/11 and I gotta go get her.” Frank leaned against the wall, rubbed his hand through his hair, and crossed his arms over his chest. I took a chance. “Can she stay here for the night? Till he sobers up? Sleep on the couch or something?”

  “I’m not getting involved in this, Ricky. Not with Imelda and the baby here. Her stepfather wants to give us trouble, he will.” He rubbed his eyes. “What’d she do to get him mad at her anyway?’

  “Nothing. I don’t know. She said he hits her when he’s drunk.”

  “He probably caught her screwing around with some boy.”

  “Dammit, Frank, she didn’t do anything. He’s beating her up. What can she do? She’s a girl.”

  “Has she got any relatives? Aunt or something? Another friend?”

  “She’s got a cousin. In Thousand Oaks. She said she could go there.”

  “Thousand Oaks?”

  “I gotta hurry. She’s crying.”

  “What do you want? You want me to drive her to Thousand Oaks? It’s more than forty miles. I gotta go to work in the morning. Tell her to call a girlfriend or something.”

  He opened the door to go back in his room. “Frank?” Imelda called from inside the bedroom. She sounded worried. “What’s going on?” Jennifer started to cry.

  I put my phone to my ear. “Maria?”

  “Tell her to call a girlfriend,” Frank repeated, his hand still on the doorknob.

  “Frank?” Imelda called again. Jennifer was starting to howl.

  “It’s OK.” Frank shouted into the room. “It’s just some friend of Ricardo’s.” I could tell he was upset.

  “Maria?” I repeated into the phone.

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  “I’ll come down there and stay with you,” I told her. “We can walk around or something.”

  “I’m not letting you go down there,” Frank said. “You know how the cops are.” He went into his room.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said to Maria. She started sobbing again, barely able to catch her breath. I talked to her quietly, trying to get her to calm down. I couldn’t leave her alone. I’d go down there whether my brother wanted me to or not. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. Frank had pulled on his pants and as he zipped them up, he said, “I’ll drive her. Where the hell is she?”

  “7/11 across from McDonalds.”

  “Tell her to go inside and wait there. Tell her we’ll be there in a couple minutes. I don’t need to be worrying about you both getting shot.” Then he told me to hurry up and get dressed. I pulled on my jeans and T-shirt in the dark, reached in my closet, and pulled out a jacket. It was the black silk jacket with the gold boxing gloves, but I didn’t notice that until we were in the car on our way to pick up Maria.

  Maria was shivering, even inside the 7/11, so I took off my jacket and pulled it over her shoulders. She put her arms through the sleeves and pulled it around her. I opened the car door and followed her into the backseat.

  Frank didn’t say much, just asked Maria what the address was and if she knew where to go when we got to Thousand Oaks. I put my arm around her, and she nestled her head on my shoulder. The jacket was so big on her that she seemed like a little girl. We didn’t talk for a long time because she was still crying. She kept tugging at the little black cross around her neck. I was afraid her stepfather tried to have sex with her or maybe even did. I knew that kind of stuff happened.

  Finally she began to calm down. I asked her what happened. She told me he came in late and woke her up because she hadn’t cleaned up the dinner dishes. He yelled at her to get in the kitchen and do the dishes. She got up and got dressed. When she walked into the kitchen, he started slapping her around. She said he was so drunk he could hardly keep his eyes open. She told him to go on to bed, she’d get the dishes done, but he blew up, and came for her again with his fists clenched. She ducked away from him and ran out of the apartment. She didn’t stop running until she reached the 7/11.

  I pulled her closer. Frank glanced over his shoulder, then back at the road. “Does your cousin know you’re coming,” he asked. “Did you call?” She told him they were expecting her. They didn’t like her stepfather anyway.

  Maria was so quiet the rest of the way, I thought she’d fallen asleep, but her eyes were open. I stroked her cheek. I tried to let her know it was OK, that I’d take care of her. Frank rubbed his hand through his hair, occasionally, or rolled his head from side to side, like he was trying to keep himself awake. Because the radio had been ripped out, there was nothing to listen to, only the hum of the motor and Maria’s breathing.

  We didn’t get to Maria’s cousin’s house until 3:45. The porch light was on and, as Frank pulled on the brake, Maria’s cousin opened the front door and came out on the porch. I got out of the car with Maria and pulled her into a big hug. I kissed her forehead. She took my hand and slipped something into it. Then she hurried up the walk and disappeared into the house. I opened my palm. She’d given me her little black cross.

  Frank leaned over, opened the door to the front seat, and told me to come on, get in, we had to get home because he had to get to work. I stuffed the cross in my pocket and crawled in the front seat.

  We stopped for gas about halfway home. I pumped it while Frank went into the mini-mart to pay. It was chilly and all I had on was my T-shirt because I’d given Maria my jacket. I had goose bumps up and down my arms. Finally the nozzle clicked. I put it back on the pump, screwed on the cap, and climbed in the car, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to warm up. The car heater didn’t work and Frank never wanted to spend the money to get it fixed. He was always worrying about money.

  He came out with two cups of coffee and a package of chocolate cupcakes. He handed the coffee and cupcakes through my window, then went aroun
d to his side and got in. I set everything on the floor, balancing my cup of coffee between my feet so I could rip back a corner of the lid on Frank’s cup. Then I opened the cupcakes, took a bite out of one and set the other on the dash for him. My coffee tasted as bad as Mr. Wilkerson’s coffee smelled, but it was warm, and I was still shivering chilly night air.

  “Want my jacket?” Frank asked.

  “I’m OK,” I replied.

  He started the car and pulled out of the station. I concentrated on my chocolate cupcake. I licked out the filling and stuffed the rest of it in my mouth.

  “You gonna eat that one?” I asked, pointing to the cupcake I’d set on the dash.

  “You can have it.” He took a sip of coffee and pulled onto the freeway. “Girlfriend?” he asked when he’d pulled over to the center lane. I nodded, but he didn’t see me so when he glanced over at me I told him yes. “Where’d you meet her?” He was driving with one hand, holding his coffee in the other.

  I bit through the second cupcake to the filling and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “School. McDonalds. She works there, too.”

  “How long have you been going out?”

  “I don’t know. A while. She’s nice.”

  I licked the filling out of the cupcake and looked out the window at the lights. In Los Angeles lights were on everywhere all the time.

  “What gang’s she in?” Frank asked. He glanced at me.

  I shrugged. Here we go, I thought. I stuck the last bite of donut in my mouth and took a swallow of coffee to wash it down.

  “Locos?” he added.

  “Yeah,” I said. Why lie? Let him say what he wanted to say. At least Maria was safe at her cousin’s. “How’d you know?” I asked.

  “Little black cross around her neck.” He didn’t say anything the rest of the way home. It was about five o’clock when we parked in front of the apartment building. Still dark. Frank pulled on the brake and looked at me. “You can get yourself in a lot of trouble,” he said. “Be careful.”

  “OK,” I mumbled. I opened the door, but he grabbed my forearm and stopped me from getting out.

  “I don’t want to find out you’re gangbanging,” he said.

  “I’m not gangbanging. She’s just a nice girl, that’s all.” I was tired and my voice sounded like it.

  “Pick up the trash,” he said as he opened his door and got out. I gathered up the cardboard coffee cups and the cupcake wrapper off the floor, got out of the car, and followed him upstairs.

  I went to school on Friday because there was nothing else to do. I had three condoms in my pocket, and Maria was in Thousand Oaks. I didn’t know when I’d see her again. So I went to school. No tardies. Got the attendance check signed six times. Paid a little bit of attention. Not much. I hung out with Marco during nutrition and lunch. After school he wanted to shoot baskets, so we checked out a ball from the equipment room and played until I had to go home to get ready for work.

  When I walked in the door, Frank was sitting on the couch, feeding Jennifer a bottle. The TV was on to Spanish news. He had his feet propped up on the coffee table. I wondered how come Imelda didn’t say anything to him about getting his dirty shoes off the coffee table like she did me.

  “Where you been?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “I dropped my backpack by the door. “School,” I said. “Playing basketball with Marco.” My phone rang in my pocket and I went in my room to answer it. It was Maria.

  She didn’t even say hi, just started right in talking, all excited. “Sandra called me and said Eddy and her are really in love. Like Romeo and Juliet. She says he’s really cute. She said she called Angel about it last night. Said they might get married or something and she didn’t want any hard feelings between her and Angel. I can’t believe it. I mean, he’s Westside Raza. Did you hear anything at school?”

  “No,” I said. “I just hung around with Marco.”

  “You didn’t see Angel or anyone?”

  “No.”

  “I was wondering what Angel was thinking or if it was OK with him or what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. When Maria wasn’t at school, I didn’t go out to the ROTC area during nutrition and lunch. Just hung with Marco. I wasn’t scared to hang with Locos, but it was kind of boring if Maria wasn’t around.

  “Anyway, my stepfather called me a little while ago. He was sorry about last night and said for me to come home. He wouldn’t drink anymore. That’s what he always says, but he won’t drink for a while because he always feels guilty after he acts like that. And he won’t want my mom getting mad at him, either. Anyway I miss you and I want to come home. My cousin said I should stay one more day and she’d get her husband to drive me back Sunday morning. I really miss you.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “I called in sick today and tomorrow, and I’m not working Sunday.”

  “Me either. Is your stepfather going to be home? Does he ever work on Sunday?”

  “He usually plays soccer in the park in the afternoon?”

  “What time?”

  “Why?”

  “I knew she was teasing me. “You know.” I heard someone kicking the front door.

  “Ricky, get the door. It’s Imelda. I got the baby.” Frank called from the front room.

  “Maria, I gotta go.”

  “He usually goes after church. Around noon. Till about 5:00 or so.”

  I still had the condoms in my pocket and just hearing her voice had got me all turned on. “Call me when I can come over.” I heard the kicking at the door again.

  “Ricky!” yelled Frank. “Get the damn door!” He scared Jennifer and she started crying.

  “Love you,” I said to Maria. “Call me tomorrow.” I put my phone in my pocket, went to the front room and opened the door.

  Imelda was just barely balancing three bags of groceries and she looked mad. I took all three bags from her and carried them to the kitchen. “I’m tired from all the shopping,” Imelda yelled after me. “Put them away.”

  “Sure,” I muttered.

  “Francisco,” I heard her say. “I just dusted the coffee table this morning. I don’t clean it so you can get it dirty.” That made me feel kind of good. I walked to the kitchen door and looked over at Frank to see what he’d do. He hauled his feet off the table, clumped them on the floor, and grabbed Imelda’s arm. He pulled her down beside him on the couch. She leaned her head against his shoulder, took the baby, and put her feet up on the table.

  I was getting ready for work when Maria called me again. She said she’d probably get home around noon. She’d call me when it was safe to come up.

  I took the three condoms out of my pocket and tucked them into my underwear drawer under my socks. I’d read the pamphlet, so I knew how to use them, but I wondered what guys did when they had to use one in front of a girl for the first time. Did they say something like, “Excuse me for a minute. I have to put this on,” or did they just stop and put it on and not say anything, or what?

  That night, after work, I pulled the little black cross out of my pocket before I got undressed. I put it around my neck and crawled into bed. I had to work Saturday, but I didn’t mind. Maria’s was coming home Sunday.

  I woke up happy. I pulled on my blue jeans and started looking around for a halfway clean T-shirt. I found one on the floor of the closet and I’d put my arms through the armholes when Frank knocked on the door. He peeked in. “You want to shoot some hoops?” he asked. Then he looked at me real funny. His jaw got tight. He stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to me. “You told me you weren’t gangbanging.”

  “What?” I asked, starting to pull the T-shirt over my head. He grabbed it out of my hands, off my arms, and flung it against the wall. “What’s wrong?”

  “You told me you weren’t gangbanging.”

  “I’m not.”

>   “Don’t lie to me.”

  “What?”

  He grabbed the cross around my neck, jerked it hard, and broke the chain that held it. The cross. Dammit. I’d forgotten I’d put it on the night before. I rubbed my neck where the chain had dug into me before it snapped off in Frank’s hands. My heart pounded. “I’m not gangbanging. I promise. Maria…” but before I could finish, he pushed me hard, up against the wall. So hard it knocked the breath out of me.

  I shook my head no. I heard a quiet knock on the door. “Francisco, have you see my purse?”

  Frank didn’t move, just held me up against the wall.

  “Frank?” Imelda knocked on the door again. “It’s the brown and black one.”.

  Frank hollered over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen your purse.”

  “I need something from my wallet, a phone number the clerk at the market gave me for someone who sews baby clothes and she doesn’t charge very much.” The door opened a crack and she stepped into the room. “I really need that number because the clerk said she was going to tell the lady I’d call this morning.” She saw Frank’s face and my face and took a step backward. “Oh,” she said.

  “I haven’t see your purse,” Frank said deliberately. Imelda left the room, closing the door so quietly that all I heard was a small click. Frank let go of me and backed up a couple steps. He turned and headed for the door. “You’re going back to El Salvador.” He said it under his breath, but I heard. I could see the chain on the cross dangling form his hand as he walked out of the room. “I’m not having this in my house.”

  I wasn’t in Locos, and it wasn’t fair of Frank to send me back for something I didn’t do. I took a deep breath and hurried out of the room after him. Frank was already on his phone, probably calling someone he knew who was headed back to El Salvador, somebody he could pay to haul me along. I didn’t want to go back to my Uncle Jose.

  “I’m not gangbanging,” I said. Frank didn’t look up, didn’t listen, didn’t want to give me a chance. “Frank, listen to me,” I protested. “I’m not gangbanging. I promise.”

  “Shut up.”

  I pulled the phone away from him, and jumped back quickly so he couldn’t hit me. I knew I had to talk fast. “Maria gave it to me when we dropped her off in Thousand Oaks. That’s all. I’m not gangbanging.” My voice sounded scared. “She gave it to me because I wasn’t going to see her for awhile, that’s all. I promise.”

  Frank held out his hand. The black cross lay in the middle of it, the chain dangling between his fingers. “You don’t wear anything like this again, you understand me? You stay away from them. All of them. I don’t need the trouble.” He slapped the cross in my hand. “Give it back to her.”

  I guessed he was done with me, so I went in my room, closed the door, took a deep breath, and got ready for work.

 
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