Love a Foot Above the Ground Page 7

  As Guillermo pulled into the parking lot in front of a row of low slung, plain looking buildings, he spoke.

  “This school offers adult education classes where you can earn your high school diploma. You could do that here, if you wanted to Paolo. I have also taken several college courses to test my ability to do college work.”

  When I heard that, I could no longer hold my tongue. If I had not still been in the cab of the truck, squished in between Paolo and Guillermo, I might even have stamped my feet, El Pinto style.

  “Why don’t we get out and you can take a look around,” Guillermo asked. “We still have a little time before we need to pick up the bicycles and do our shopping.” But before Paolo could answer, I spoke, and I was not pleased.

  “If there are college courses here why have you asked to go to college in California? Is this why your family objects to more school?” Both my brother and Guillermo gulped, uncomfortably. I tried to calm down. The temperature in the cab went up another few degrees. I believe by that point Guillermo had small beads of perspiration on his upper lip. Paolo stifled a smile, hiding it behind his hands. That only made me angrier. Guillermo began to speak—faster than he normally did.

  “I’m not sure what difference it makes to my parents where I go to school, Bernadette. They won’t be happy unless I am home. What makes a difference to me is to use the time and money it costs to go to college wisely. That means going to school where I can learn about the world with the most up-to-date information and the best-trained faculty. There are many schools like that in California. And they are certainly no farther away than Mexico City, closer even, and some are not that much farther than Mexicali. Of course, there has been trouble for students in Mexico City.”

  As always, this thinking man had been doing a lot of thinking. What he said made good sense. I just couldn’t figure out how I fit into the picture. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about in Mexico City until later when I learned that students were in conflict with the government and the police. At some point, in the sixties, students were even shot and killed. Of course, I did not know what was going on in the U.S. at college campuses either. Eventually, years later, college students were killed there too, in Ohio. Until Guillermo came into my life, none of that had any place in the smaller world of my life in San Felipe.

  “Please, let’s walk and I’ll tell you more.” Relieved, Paolo popped his door open and sprang from the truck. I scooted over and stepped carefully out of the truck on the passenger side. By the time I got to the ground, Guillermo was there beside me. Paolo was standing a little apart from us speaking in a low voice to Tomàs, who turned away so that I could not see him laugh. I saw his shoulders shake, though. I did not think it was funny and might have charged them both, more bull than pony, except that Guillermo was speaking.

  “I have not gone into details about my plans, Bernadette, because I don’t have those yet. I should learn, anytime now, whether I have been admitted to school in California. Certainly, by early next year I will know. If that doesn’t happen, then, I can continue to take courses here in Mexicali. I will have to decide whether to try again next year for admission to school in California. They do not offer all of the courses I need to earn a degree, here, at this school, but I’ll figure out something. We do have other plans to make, though. My parents wish to meet you at the end of shrimping season. They would like you and your entire family to come for a visit. I am sure once they have met you they will understand why I wish to marry you, and soon.” I was overcome with joy, relieved that he had spoken to his parents. Without thinking, I threw myself into his arms, and buried my face into his chest, sobbing.

  “Oh, Guillermo, I am so happy. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” My brothers rushed to close the distance between us.

  “I thought it would make a great Christmas present. That it would be a nice surprise for you. If I had received word about admission to school I could have had that surprise for you too.”

  “No mas, por favor! Please no more surprises, Guillermo. I have had enough this year to last until I am a very old woman,” I sniffled.

  “What is wrong?” Paolo asked.

  “I’m just so ha-ha-happy,” I replied as I dried my eyes on a neatly folded handkerchief Guillermo took from a pocket. “We’re going to meet Guillermo’s family and there aren’t going to be any m-m-more surprises,” I sputtered.

  “If she cries like this when she is happy, what will she do when she is sad?” Tomàs asked. “Are you sure you want to marry this sister of mine?”

  “Yes, I want that more than anything else in the world,” Guillermo replied. “No more surprises, Bernadette, if I can help it.” He pulled me close for a moment longer then placed a kiss upon my forehead. My brothers teased us about such a shameless public display of affection and threatened to tell Mama. I didn’t care. Guillermo had told his parents that I was to be his wife. Even if it took another year or two or three, I could wait. Of course, I was too young to know that neither I, nor Guillermo, could control how many surprises life had in store for us. I did not have to wait long for more.

  8 News from california

  After that conversation in Mexicali it was as if a dam had broken. Guillermo spoke constantly of my visit to Chihuahua. My family was very excited about the idea and began to figure out how such a trip could happen.

  Guillermo spoke, too, about study in California. I was ready to hear, at that point, about San Diego and Los Angeles, and listened as he repeated much of what he had already told my brothers. He tried to describe for me how tall the buildings were in those cities, and that there were dozens of them. Like the vastness of the land in which his family’s house was located, and the idea that Juarez was a city so large it would take a day or more to walk from one side to the other, I found the idea of a forest of tall buildings unbelievable. This Guillermo of mine could not help but astound me. There were just too many surprises in his head. One morning, as the shrimping boats were about to set out, he arrived at my house before dawn. My father opened the door and Guillermo burst into the house.

  “Bernadette! Bernadette, where are you?” I came running from the bedroom where I was tending to Antonia and Pedro as they dressed for school.

  “Guillermo, what is it? What has happened?” I tried to remain calm.

  “Please, Bernadette, this is not a surprise. Well not a surprise I could control—okay it is a surprise, but to me as well. The news I have been waiting for from California. I have been accepted for fall at the University of California, in Los Angeles. They sent the letter some time ago, to my address in Mexicali, but it only reached me, here, yesterday. Last night it was too late by the time I opened the letter or I would have run all the way over here as I did this morning. They are giving me money, Bernadette. Admission, with a scholarship, too! This is the best day of my life—the second best day, anyway. The best day was when I first saw you or maybe the day you said you loved me. So this is the third best day of my life.”

  I had never seen Guillermo like this before—beside himself with happiness. Even though we were standing right there in front of my entire family he swept me into his arms and kissed me. Not a light kiss on the forehead or cheek, but a firm, possessive kiss, on my lips. My sisters sighed, as I stood there, trying to keep from floating away. Once again, I had been taken to the heights of near senselessness by the young man I loved. My wild, modern man, who dreamed bigger than anyone I had ever known.

  “Here, keep this for me—read it and we will talk more about this later. I have to run, fast, to catch up with Uncle Carl who will be heading to his trawler now.” He was about to kiss me again, but must have finally noticed the audience of smiling faces. “Please, excuse me for coming and going in such a hurry. Good fishing!” He turned and dashed from the house into the dark.

  “Thank God they are smiling,” I remember thinking. Even my father was smiling, although he was also shaking his head back and forth.

  “That Guillermo is always up to som
ething,” he mumbled.

  “Yes, and in such a hurry,” my mother said. “Our daughter looks as though a hurricane has struck.”

  “Hurricane Guillermo,” Tomàs said, taunting me.

  “My hurricane Guillermo,” I said dreamily.

  “He has left your hair standing on end from the blow of that kiss,” Theresa added. I reached up and, sure enough, my hair was standing up. In his rush to embrace me he had mussed my hair. As I began to smooth it down, a ripple of giggles ran through the room.

  “At least that means we will know if they carry on like that again,” Mama said setting off more laughter. I was finally clearheaded enough to blush, but my feet were not yet back on the ground so I don’t know if it reached to my toes or not. The tug of the earth is strong, though, and I did not have to wait long for my feet to hit the ground.

  As was our custom, we exchanged presents on Christmas Eve before our Noche Bueno dinner. After enjoying our feast we would walk together to the church for Midnight Mass. Guillermo, and the cousins he called Aunt Juanita and Uncle Carlos, joined us too.

  That night I got my first lesson in life about how unkind and unhappy some families can be. I had always thought of family as almost like a sacrament. Marriage is, of course, but to me that meant family, too. Oh, family members could get on your nerves. I knew that. On occasion my parents disagreed with each other or, more often, with something one of us had done as children. But I always felt loved and never doubted that we had each other’s best interests at heart. When my grandparents were alive it had been the same way. I was ill-prepared for what occurred that Christmas Eve.

  The lift from that kiss and the good news from Guillermo had sent me soaring. I had found myself humming as we prepared the evening meal and readied the house for company. The evening started off well enough, first with the squeals of delight when those bicycles were spotted, sitting in the courtyard. A ribbon tied to each one had a child’s name on it. The four youngest in our family set out on those bicycles, riding all the way to the school and back. We older folks sat in the courtyard talking, waiting for them to return so we could eat.

  I remember thinking how much life could change in just one year. Had those bikes arrived the last Christmas, when I was still in school and fourteen rather than fifteen, I might have been out on the bicycles. Instead, I sat sipping rompope, Mexican eggnog, which was quickly going to my head. The rich, spicy, sweet drink was spiked with alcohol, and I marveled at how the others seemed to be holding it all together.

  Most startling of all, was that across from me, sat Guillermo. He mostly listened as Carlos and my father talked about how well fishing season was going. They were both grateful for the help of Guillermo and my brothers, Paulo and Tomàs. The older men toasted the younger ones, emptying their glasses of eggnog. Guillermo and I glanced at each other often, wrapping each other up in our smiles.

  My parents were pleased with the gift my sisters and I had made them—a warm, colorful embroidered comforter for their bed. It turned out well, with even my youngest sister putting in some of the straight stitches around the outer edges. She had just learned to use a needle and thread in the past year. We had managed to keep it a secret, at least from my father. My mother pretended to be surprised, even if she was not. It looked beautiful on their bed, adding Christmas cheer to their simple bedroom.

  There were so many other gifts that year, big and small. My Guillermo, who at that point had become “our Guillermo” to my family, brought another gift that was about as big a hit as the bicycles. He brought our family a phonograph, like the one my brothers had played when we visited his room in Mexicali, and he brought a few records too. Along with all of the other good things that evening we had music. We showered him with gifts, too. None as spectacular as the ones he brought, but handmade, with love from his sweetheart and her family.

  After that visit to Mexicali I had no trouble picking out my store bought gift for him. With all those books, everywhere, I thought the beautiful leather bookmarks I found were perfect. I had made him a black shirt, hand embroidered, with silvery white thread I had also bought on that trip to Mexicali. I put delicate strips of stitches down the front, on either side of the shirt buttons. My aim was to design a shirt that was mostly modern with a bit of tradition, like my Guillermo. What I explained to him later, out of earshot of my family, was that I had placed my name on the underside of a pocket. That way it would be close to his heart whenever he wore that shirt.

  Dinner was delicious and pleasant enough. As we soon learned, Guillermo had given his cousins a phonograph and records, too. They had brought wine for dinner and a fine assortment of chocolates. My mother had packed a gift box for them of homemade bread, tres leches cake, and cookies. My father had fish for them, smoked slowly over smoldering mesquite wood, using a method that was his alone. It had earned him almost as many compliments as my mother’s cooking. They would not go home empty handed.

  That evening, I was filled with gratitude for all the good in my life, uplifted again, not just by Guillermo, but by a day shared with family. As the evening drew to a close, I was brought crashing back to earth. Guillermo’s Tia Juanita had joined me in the courtyard until it was time to walk to Mass. I waited for Guillermo and Paolo to finish a game of checkers, using the new set my brothers had bought for Guillermo as one of his gifts.

  Juanita sat next to me, sipping a warm cup of champurrado, hot chocolate, Mexican style. Uncle Carlos and my father had gone for a walk to smoke one of the fine cigars that Guillermo had given each of them. I was wrapped in a beautiful embroidered shawl, made for me by my mother, wearing warm slippers knitted by my sister, and on my wrist was my gift from Guillermo—a watch. The first watch I had ever owned. On the back it was engraved with our initials inside a small heart. I must have been looking at it, again, when Juanita spoke.

  “That is a lovely gift. You are fortunate to have found such a devoted young man as Guillermo,” she said in a confidential tone.

  “Yes, he is truly remarkable,” I said, reverently, I was so filled with gratitude and love.

  “It is too bad that his choices have caused his family so much strife.” I thought, of course, that she was speaking of the dispute with his father about going to college. It was nothing I felt that she needed to comment about, but only nodded before she began again. “I agree that you are very young, these days, to become a wife. Not like when I was your age when at fifteen or sixteen a girl was prepared to assume the duties of wife and mother. Of course, here in San Felipe how could you possibly even know what those duties are for the wife of a rancher?”

  I froze, trying to understand. I was not yet practiced at reading between the lines as I am now, as a much older woman. Who had told her these things? Certainly not Guillermo. Had his mother or his father said these things? I was so young and naïve I presumed Juanita spoke out of kindness and concern for me and for Guillermo. It never occurred that she might be meddling, or worse, behaving with malice toward us. No one before in my life had betrayed me or intentionally harmed me. The idea that I might have an enemy sitting right there, next to me, and a relative of my Guillermo was inconceivable. Families loved and supported each other; they did not conspire to betray or offend. Or so I thought.

  “I had not considered that it could be so different, Aunt Juanita. A house must be kept clean and well-organized, a family well-fed, and children cared for. Is there more?” Juanita laughed hoarsely and shook her head.

  “See? That is exactly why there is concern. Theirs is a household that entertains large parties, important people, and sometimes for days on end. Do you think you could feed their visitors the sort of meal we ate tonight at a table so rustic? Our meal was more like the dinner eaten by their servants back in the kitchen. It is nothing like the food eaten in their fine dining room where I have been a guest. Glorious food served on delicate china, with silver that sparkles and crystal goblets, set out on a polished wooden table surrounded by high-backed, hand-carved chairs.” I was gr
owing more and more anxious as she spoke.

  “The conversation at the table is not the rough talk of fishermen. They speak of politics and business, art and music, high-minded topics that you would find difficult to deal with, even politely, Bernadette. Surely, you can see how Guillermo’s request to marry you has caused trouble, yes?” I was so taken aback I could barely think, much less speak.

  “Yes, I mean, no. I don’t understand. Who has said these things to you?”

  “It is not my place to divulge such a confidence, but if I were you I would consider carefully what it means to become the source of division in a family. That’s especially true when they are already dealing with their crazy son’s wild schemes. How can one boy be so ambitious about education and settle for so little when it comes to choosing a wife?” She shook her head gravely.

  I felt myself growing angry, not just for me, but for Guillermo. Who was this woman to speak like that about Guillermo? It was shameful for a family member to do this. Then, I considered that this relative was not even close enough to truly be called aunt, even though Guillermo did so out of respect. How could she know that much about him? What right did she have to speak of matters so close to the heart of Guillermo’s family? She knew even less about me and my family. That night she was about to learn more about me, quickly.

  “I am sorry, Juanita, but I find it impossible to believe that anyone in Guillermo’s family would call him crazy. He is a dreamer, yes, but he is not the least bit crazy.” My voice had started to become louder.

  “Who can say?” she said, shrugging her shoulders. I jumped to my feet.

  “I can, that’s who! If a member of Guillermo’s family speaks to you this way about him, then, they are not truly a friend or family, nor are you! They are wrong about Guillermo. They are wrong about me, too.” El Pinto took over at that point. I stamped my feet and spoke once more, louder still. “I tell you one thing I would not do sitting at that fine table speaking with high-minded people, Juanita, or after dinner, either. I would not say one bad word about those who went to so much trouble to feed and entertain me. Perhaps, it is you who needs to learn more about polite conversation.” At that point I ran for the door, bumping into Guillermo as I crossed the threshold. From behind me I heard Juanita call out.