Oscar Casares Read online

  When the man finished praying at the altar, he wiped away his tears and helped his wife into their car. Saliva ran off her chin and onto her T-shirt. The husband placed the walker inside the trunk and drove away.

  Domingo removed his hat and made the sign of the cross as he knelt at the altar. A chain-link fence stood between him and the image. Next to the tree was a white house with its lights off. As much as he wanted to make peace with God, he felt strange kneeling beneath the tree. The truth was, he wanted to leave and wait until the morning when the churches would open, but he couldn’t allow this day to pass him by. People had left dozens of photos tacked onto a large piece of plywood leaning against the fence. He looked at the pictures—three men standing next to an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair, a young soldier back from the war, an older woman wearing a graduation gown, a wrecked car, a retarded woman sitting next to a giant teddy bear, a newborn baby with tubes connected to his mouth and belly—and tried to set aside his doubts. Domingo bowed his head and prayed to the Virgin Mary to please send a message to his Sara. He wanted her to know that her father had kept her memory alive and that he always would as long as God gave him air to breathe. He had not forgotten what day this was, and if she were here, he himself would sing “Las Mañanitas” to her, the same way her mother had done on her first birthday. He explained to the Virgin how much he wanted to be on a bus headed home so he could wake up the next morning to the warm touch of his wife. He missed her cooking and being able to share his meals with her. Then he remembered that the reason he had come to the tree was to ask for God’s forgiveness. Domingo felt ashamed for having put his desires first. He begged the Virgin to help him ask for mercy. He and his wife had lost their little girl, and he, who had always believed in the hand of God, had turned away when his prayers went unanswered. He pleaded with the Virgin to intervene on his behalf and ask God for another chance to show his devotion and become His most faithful servant once again. He had tried to be a good man all the years God had given him on earth. He had worked hard to provide for his family. Everyone knew this about him. He swore he would have been a good father to Sara if there had been more time. Then he tried to pray an avemaría, except it had been so long since he had prayed that he could not remember more than the first verse. There was a tightness in his chest and he was having trouble breathing. He tried hard to remember another prayer. Domingo begged the Virgin to forgive him, but now he felt as though he were speaking to himself: he was lost beneath the tree.

  He stepped back from the altar. The people in the photos seemed to be laughing at him, as if it had been a trick all along. He felt foolish for having believed that he could find the Virgin Mother in the bark of a tree, that he could ask for God’s forgiveness by kneeling at an altar on a city street. The tree had no special powers except the ones people placed on it. He was not going to find peace with God here, not any more than he was going find it on la señora’s roof or in the little room where he slept every night. Domingo turned his back to the tree and walked away.

  People were boarding the same bus that had arrived earlier. He could see a young couple with their arms around each other. The young woman was crying as the man boarded the bus. A mother walked on board holding her little girl by the hand. An older woman wearing a baseball cap carried two large plastic bags filled with grapefruits. A man in short pants held a large radio. The bus driver took each of their tickets. Domingo hesitated on the street corner, asking himself what he should do next. The music was louder from the other side of the river now. All he had to do was walk up the small grassy embankment to see the lights of his country. The thought of going down to the edge of the river entered his mind, but he remembered how dangerous it could be if the authorities spotted him. The bus stopped next to him and waited for the traffic light to turn green. When Domingo looked up, the little girl was looking out the window. Her mother held her in the seat and the little girl stared at Domingo. There was nothing unusual about them, but seeing them pull away, he felt they could’ve been his own wife and daughter if his life had turned out differently, or if only he would’ve had more faith. He watched the bus disappear into the center of town, and he walked back to the tree.

  Domingo passed the altar and climbed onto the fence. Then he pulled himself up to the first limb. He stood and gently tossed his shoes into the grass, careful not to wake the people who lived in the house next to the tree. The second branch was more difficult, but he strained and pulled until he was standing on it. He slid his feet along so he could get to the final branch. To reach it, he stood on his toes and then swung his right leg over the top. He was thankful that his body did not fail him. He held on to the tree. This last branch was higher than la señora’s roof. He could see most of the city and the few cars that were on the street. The wind was strong and he held his hat in one hand. He closed his eyes as the wind blew through his hair. He prayed again, but this time he prayed to God directly. He told God that he was a poor man who had tried to comprehend the mysteries of life. Perhaps this was something no man could comprehend, but in his heart he needed to know why he and his wife had lost their child. And now almost twenty years later, he had discovered there was no answer: it had been the will of God. There was nothing he could do but accept the life he had been given. He asked God for forgiveness and then, for just a second, he let go of the tree in order to make the sign of the cross. In that moment, he felt light enough to blow away like a leaf. It frightened him at first, but he forced himself to let go of the tree again. This time he kept his arms open and waited for his fear to pass. When he opened his eyes, he gazed out toward the horizon, farther than he had ever imagined he could. He looked across the river, past the nightclub lights on Obregón, past the shoeshine stands in Plaza Hidalgo, past the bus station where he caught his long ride home, past all the little towns and ranchitos on the way to Ciudad Victoria, past the Sierra Madre and the endless shrines for people who had died along the road, and even farther, past the loneliness of his little room next to the tire shop, past the reality that he would work the rest of his life and still die poor, and finally, past the years of sorrow he had spent remembering his little girl, past all this, until he clearly saw his wife and then his daughter, Sara, who was now a grown woman.

  Big Jesse, Little Jesse

  Jesse lives in a small apartment three miles from the house where he used to live with his wife and son. Even now, a year after moving out, he still wonders how he went from being just another guy in the neighborhood to being married with a kid—getting up in the middle of the night, changing stinky diapers, wiping stinky butts, figuring out baby car seats, paying doctor’s bills, watching cartoon videos, teaching the boy how to ride a bike, teaching him how not to fall on his face—to being separated, which is a nice way of saying “almost divorced,” all before he turned twenty-four. Jesse and Corina’s reasons for not being together are more complicated than there being another woman or another guy, or their love having faded. The problems have to do with their kid. The boy turned out like his mother, so it’s no mystery to Jesse why he likes her more. Little Jesse has her features, same light brown hair, same dark eyes, same light skin that sometimes makes people think they’re Anglo. He’s also smart like his mother. He was reading before he started kindergarten. You can’t drag him out of the library. That’s all he does, read books, so at least he’s good at it. They have a park down the street, but you’ll never see him there. He has no interest in playing outside or watching Jesse show him his famous around-the-back reverse layup. Jesse tried to get him to make friends with the other boys in the neighborhood, except he was always too shy. Then a couple of them picked on him, called him names, and he came home crying. Jesse’s wife wouldn’t let Jesse walk over and say anything to the little punks. And she especially didn’t want Jesse pushing him to go outside anymore. She’d rather Little Jesse keep his nose glued to the inside of a book. She wants him to get good grades and go to college someday. There’s that, and the fact the kid was born
with a physical disability. To Jesse, what he has is one leg shorter than the other. The difference is only an inch or so, but he used to limp enough to remind Jesse of one those indios begging for spare change on the bridge from Matamoros. That was before the boy started wearing a special shoe on his left foot. The shoe looks any other shoe until you get up close and see the giant sole that makes you think it has to be a defect from the factory. Nobody would want his boy or girl born this way, but Jesse tells himself it’s not the end of the world. He’s known lots of people who had something wrong with them and they didn’t sit around the house all day, reading. He remembers there used to be a blind mechanic who lived in the neighborhood when he was growing up. Corina always listens to Jesse’s stories, but afterward he never feels that she’s made the connection between Little Jesse’s disability and the “disability” in the story. Anyway, this mechanic’s name was Pano, and according to Jesse, the man was blind enough to have a dog lead him around if he wanted to. His eyes moved back and forth and all around like a pair of marbles on the dashboard of a car. People said he’d gone blind at forty-six because he kept drinking his cervecitas and never took care of his diabetes. He received disability checks for a year or two, until he couldn’t stand being inside the house and opened his own garage. People weren’t rushing out to have a blind man fix their cars. But with time, word spread that he charged half as much as most garages and guaranteed his work. Pano had customers waiting for him to open up every morning. He did it all by the sound of the engine. Sure, he had some young guys working for him, doing the heavy work, sometimes describing what the engine and hoses looked like, but in the end, it was Pano who could find what was wrong with your car better than a garage full of mechanics with good eyes. Some people claimed that he was a better mechanic since he’d gone blind. So, no, Jesse doesn’t feel sorry for his boy. He won’t let himself. Little Jesse can see, hear, speak. He’s smart. He’s a good-looking boy. And, really, if his mother ever let him, he’d grow up normal like every other kid.

  It’s Sunday and Jesse drives to the house. Yesterday he called and told Corina that he wanted to barbecue. Usually he waits for some special occasion to cook out, but this time it’s only that he’s tired of being in the apartment alone. Corina and Little Jesse aren’t back from church when he parks in front of the house. He still has a key, but he feels weird being inside when Corina isn’t there. After a few minutes of sitting in the car, he walks around to the back and sets the coals in the barbecue pit, starts the fire. He sits on the back steps and watches the flames flicker over the top of the pit. The yard looks nice, maybe nicer than when he lived there. The last rain has helped. The grass is growing along the back gate, and the lime tree he planted four years ago finally has fruit. He still takes care of things around the house as if he lived there. He could pay the old man who cleans yards to come by, but it’s still his house, still his family.

  Corina and Little Jesse pull into the driveway a few minutes later. She hugs Jesse, but it’s a hug you give an in-law or second cousin you don’t see so often. Little Jesse gives his father a hug and then a high five the way he always does. Corina carries out a tray of sausages and marinated fajitas. She lingers around the pit while Jesse places the meat on the grill. Jesse can feel her watching him. He waits, knowing she has something to tell him. He covers the grill and watches the smoke escape through the vent.

  It isn’t until they’re serving themselves the food that she brings up the idea of sending Little Jesse to another school. This, Jesse thinks, has to be the easiest decision they ever made. They live only a block away from an elementary school and Little Jesse is going into the second grade. What’s there to talk about? Pack his lunch box and send him out the door. But now Corina has it in her head that Little Jesse needs to be going to the Catholic school across town.

  “The books aren’t any different over there, Corina. Schools are schools. Teachers are teachers.”

  “No, they’re not. It’s a better school, and you know it.” “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is, we don’t have money to be sending him there and especially not if he has a school right here.” “Gloria said she would help us pay.” “So this is your sister’s idea?” “She offered.”

  “All so he can go to class with a bunch of rich kids from her neighborhood?” “She’s not rich.” “She’s richer than we are.” “It’s a better school. That’s the only reason.” “And how’s he supposed to get there every day? In a taxi?” “I’ll take him on the way to work in the morning, and you can pick him up after school.”

  “I don’t get off work until late in the afternoon, Corina.” “He can wait at Gloria’s house until you come for him.” “And what if I don’t want to? What if I say no?” “Then I guess we have to do it without you.”

  Jesse knows the fight is officially over. It isn’t the first time he’s heard these words. Do it my way, or I’ll do it myself. They hardly agreed on anything when he was living with her, sleeping in the same bed; how’s it going to get any better with him living somewhere else?

  Two months later, Jesse drives by Gloria’s house and honks the horn. Gloria opens the front door and Little Jesse walks out, lugging his huge backpack. He climbs into the front seat of Jesse’s small truck as though he’s catching a ride with a passing 18-wheeler. Jesse plays with the stereo while Little Jesse straps himself in with the seat belt. “So, how was your first day?” Jesse asks. “Okay,” Little Jesse answers. Jesse doesn’t ask any more, but for what they’re paying and the trouble of driving him back and forth, he thinks his first day should’ve been better than “okay.”

  Little Jesse is wearing a school uniform. His shirt is white with short sleeves and a button-down collar. It looks as though Corina used extra starch to make the shirt so stiff. Jesse tries to think of the last time she ironed anything for him, but he can only remember the time that she left a burn mark on his Polo shirt. Little Jesse’s pants are gray with pleats and cuffs. His socks are as black as his shoes, which look as though they were polished at one of the stands across the river. They’re buffed up enough that it’s hard to tell what exactly is different about the left shoe. Jesse’s waiting at a stoplight when he notices his own khakis are beginning to fade. His white shirt is missing a middle button, which his tie covers up. He realizes he should’ve worn something nicer.

  He’s an assistant manager now. They get all kinds of people walking in from the mall. The owner of Frontera Electronics is a businessman from Monterrey. He notices these kinds of things. Jesse knows that if he ever plans to be manager, it isn’t going to happen with him missing a button on his shirt.

  He drives Little Jesse back to the house. It’s Monday and Corina will be at Dr. Rosas’s office until five. She works as an assistant dental hygienist and takes classes at the college on the side. If she isn’t rushing somewhere, she’s studying or falling asleep from studying. Before he moved out, Jesse felt as if he were living in a school library because she kept saying “shush” anytime he listened to his music or talked on the phone. When he got tired of being shushed, he’d go hang out in the yard, where could make all the noise he wanted.

  Little Jesse sits at the kitchen table and does his homework. Jesse serves them each a grape jelly sandwich with a glass of milk. Then he turns on the TV and watches a game show. A housewife from Minnesota has won a trip to Hawaii. She’s jumping up and down, kissing her husband while the host asks if she’s planning to take anyone on the trip. The audience laughs along with the wife and her husband.

  “Mommy doesn’t like the TV to be on when I do my homework.”

  “Why not?” Jesse says.

  “She says I’ll get distracted.”

  “What’s she do then, when you’re doing homework?”

  “Read her books or make food for dinner. Or help me study.”

  “I don’t have anything to read and I’m not that good a cook.”

  “Do you want to study with me?”

  “Maybe you should
wait for your mom.”

  Little Jesse shrugs in a way that says he has homework to do either way. He writes something in a blue notebook. Jesse clicks off the TV and leans back on the sofa. Little Jesse is reading out loud to himself. Jesse can hear the neighborhood boys shouting and playing football in the street. He falls asleep remembering one afternoon when he scored five touchdowns, two of them sprinting alongside the edge of the curb. He wakes up a few minutes later when Corina comes home and it’s time for him to leave.

  Jesse likes to stay in the truck when he goes by for Little Jesse. He waves hello to Gloria and leaves it at that. Weeks pass by this way. He doesn’t have anything against Corina’s family, but he knows they don’t feel the same way about him since he moved out. It’s not as if they really liked him to begin with. Corina met Jesse the summer she turned nineteen and was about to start college. She wanted to finish in three years and go to dental school in San Antonio. Jesse was eighteen years old, but he told her he was nineteen so she wouldn’t think he was too young. Corina believed him until the day she saw his driver’s license, but by that time they were going around. Jesse wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. It was either join the air force or move to California and hang out with his older brother who sold vitamins and said he could set Jesse up. He thought he might go to college after the service. He wanted to leave his options open. Then Corina told him she was pregnant. But what really surprised him was that she wasn’t sure she wanted to go through with it—the baby, or the marrying part. She said she loved him, but she just didn’t know what to do. Her mind was full of all kinds of doubts. Where would they live? How would they survive? Did he want to marry her only because she was pregnant and he felt he had to? Maybe she was scared, maybe it was her family telling her it was the biggest mistake she’d ever make.