Efrain's Secret (17 page)

On Thanksgiving I spring for a cab to City Island, and Mandy, Moms, and I go to Sammy’s Fish Box. This is my moms’ favorite restaurant and where we celebrate special family occasions. Back when he was good for something, Rubio started the tradition. He brought Moms here for dinner, took her for a boat trip around the island—supposedly a major heart racer for my mother because she loves the water, while homeboy is the only Dominican on the planet who can’t swim—and proposed to her on the Long Island Sound. Since that time we have come here after Mandy’s baptism, my and Mandy’s First Communion, my confirmation, you name it. When I graduate from AC in June, Sammy’s Fish Box is where you’ll find us. There are a lot of positive memories in this place, and I’m happy that Rubio’s absence doesn’t change that.

Instead of eating turkey with stuffing or even
pernil
and
ceviche
, the three of us share the Italian Feast for Two: lobster, shrimp, clams, mussels, snow crab legs, king crab legs,
and
hard-shell crab with fresh pasta and garlic sauce. And Moms kills us with one story after the other. My favorite is the one where she destroyed the first
lechón
she ever tried to roast for Thanksgiving in a disastrous attempt to impress her boyfriend’s mother, an uptight
blanquita
who was always correcting her Spanish, referring to her as
la Americana
as if that made her a lowlife, and otherwise talking sideways about my moms to anyone who would listen. I
almost choke on a crab leg when my moms goes off on the matriarch in front of all her guests, tells Dude not to call her until he “grows a set,” and runs out with the half-frozen pig under her arm like Eli Manning breaking out of a pack of Patriots. I never thought about my mother’s life before us, but somehow hearing about her past makes me hopeful about all of our futures.

She’s in such a good mood, Moms even lets Mandy order a virgin piña colada and pours me a little of her sangria. When the check comes, we fight for it. “Efrain, you shouldn’t spend your money on things like this,” Moms says. “Save your money for your senior ring and graduation pictures.”

But I won’t give up the tab. “You cover the cab ride back.”

The Dominican cabbie’s a trip, too, playing this corny
bachata
song and fishing for my moms’ marital status.
“Ella está casá,”
my sister snaps at the poor guy.

I say, “No, she’s not.” Of course, this clown isn’t for my moms, but I just want to give her the heads-up that if she wants to look for someone who will keep her happy, cool with me. Still, I have mad respect that Moms doesn’t hook up with every guy who tosses a smile her way in an effort to prove something to Rubio.

As we pass Nestor’s block, I imagine the huge
pariseo
going down at his crib and wonder how long before someone sets off drama over something ridiculous. One Thanksgiving Nestor’s father and his older brother Leo came to blows over the Turkey Bowl. When my family came back from my grandmother’s place, we found Nestor pitching a handball in our lobby. His people didn’t even realize he was missing until my moms called his apartment. Moms invited Nestor to stay at our place for the rest of the weekend. At first, Rubio was pissed about this, but eventually he took us all to the movies and Mickey D’s. That goes to prove that dude can be decent when he wants to be and not because he has no other choice.

And as if I conjured him, Moms tells the cabbie to turn onto Awilda’s block. I feel ambushed. “Why are we going there?”

“I’m just dropping your sister off so she can spend some time with your father and brother today.”

“Oh.” So long as she doesn’t expect me to stick around.

Mandy says, “Mami, come upstairs with me.”

“No, sweetie, I’m tired and stuffed.”

“But Awilda said to invite you.”

My mother can barely hide her contempt. “Tell her I said thank you.”

“Mami!”

I snap, “Mandy, stop whining.”

The cab pulls up in front of Awilda’s building, and not for nothing I’m glad I’m not paying for this ride. Mandy bounces out of the cab and runs to the gate. Meanwhile, when the driver thinks I’m not looking, he slips his card in my mother’s hand along with her change. I’d laugh if I weren’t upset about being here.

My mother and I wait by the curb as Mandy leans on the buzzer. “Enough, Amanda, that’s obnoxious.”

Finally, the gate buzzes, and my sister shoves it open. She stops to turn around and look at me. “Efrain, come on.”

“Nah, I have to go to Candace’s house.”

Moms says, “Just call me when you want me to come pick you up, honey.”

Mandy pouts, then disappears into the building. Without a word, Moms and I start to walk toward St. Ann’s Avenue. After a few paces, she says, “We really do have much to be grateful for, Efrain.”

“Yeah.” Even though my head knows this is true, my heart doesn’t feel the same way it did a half hour ago.

Moms and I reach the corner. She beckons for a hug.
“Te quiero mucho, m’ijo.”

“I love you, too, Mami.”

As she holds me, she says, “No matter what happens, I’m always thankful for my family, especially you kids.” Then Moms pulls away, brushing her fingertips across my cheek. “Tell Candace and her family I said happy Thanksgiving, and that I hope to meet them very soon.”

“I will.”

Then my mother takes a left, and after wondering for a second if she truly wants to be alone today, I head to Candace’s.

Pathos
(n.)
an emotion of sympathy

After two heaping servings of vanilla ice cream and homemade pecan pie, Candace asks if I want to go for a walk. And true to the secret manual that must have been written for kid sisters worldwide, Nia insists on going with us. As we reach People’s Park, her sister races toward the swings while Candace and I sit on a bench and hold hands. She says, “You know, it’s not so cold out here today.”

“I hate to break this to you,” I laugh, “but you’re talking like a New Yorker.”

“For real?” Candace smiles at the thought. “Don’t think I don’t like New York, Efrain. Sometimes it’s tough, but this city’s been good to me.”

“It’s just not home.” I try to say it without resentment, but I don’t know if I succeed.

“For now it is, and it will be for a while.” Candace reaches inside her coat and pulls out the Katrina presentation I had asked to borrow only to leave it behind after our fight about college. I take the paper from her and tuck it into my inside pocket. Then Candace leans her head against my shoulder. “I wish we could spend more time together.”

“Me too.” We watch Nia make friends with some other kids and turn the playground into an obstacle course. “So, is everything okay with you? You know, with school, work … group.”

Candace flashes a grin at me. “Did you hear about your friend Dominic?”

I’m actually relieved to hear some gossip. As curious as I am about her therapy sessions, I’m not always sure I can handle it. “What did that fool Lefty do now?”

“I caught him selling weed to one of Chingy’s tutees in the stacks, and Mr. Sweren kicked him out of the tutoring program.”

“Word?” It makes me a hypocrite, but I say it. “They need to expel that moron.”

“Mr. Sweren said he would’ve called the police if he had caught him in the act, but that’s okay.” Candace raises her fist. “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, Candace Lamb is free at last!” I laugh, even though my intestines feel braided. I kiss Candace to make myself feel better, and it works. For the most part.

She suddenly pulls away, her eyes fixed on something past my shoulder. “Nia, get down from there. It’s not ladylike to climb the monkey bars in a dress. That girl, I swear—”

Then Candace gasps. “Oh my God, I didn’t invite your sister over for dessert, did I? She was totally welcome to come. Your mother, too. Efrain, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Moms could use some time to herself, and Mandy’s over at her father’s place.”

“Oh, I just assumed you two had the same dad.”

“We do, but…” Besides Chingy I have never spoken to anyone about Rubio. Even that was on some little-boy-lost feebleness that embarrasses me to this day. But I can only dodge Candace about this for so long. “Rubio and I don’t get along.”

“As in rube?”

“Yeah, exactly,” I laugh. But the truth is Rubio is far from naive or unsophisticated. Dude could stand to be a bit less slick.
“Nah, I’m just playing with you. His real name is César.
Rubio
means ‘blond’ in Spanish.”

“So why don’t you get along?”

“He did some funky things to my moms and put me in the middle of it.” Candace waits me out. “My father’s a first-class womanizer, and around the time I turned ten, he started taking me along on his little escapades. He’d tell my mother we were going to play ball but end up at his so-called girlfriend’s place. Just drop me off in front of her television while they did their thing.”

“And one day you told your mom,” says Candace. The fact that she assumes I did the right thing makes me want to kiss her. The knowledge that I did no such thing makes me want to push her away. “Of course you didn’t. You were just a child, and no child wants to hurt his mother or have his father angry with him.”

On the drive from Yankee Stadium that particular night, I had been bouncing off the walls of the Civic, juiced on lemon ice and an Alfonso Soriano home run. Then Rubio made the detour where it finally clicks. As we drove home from his mistress’s apartment, Rubio tried to chat me up while I sat there, doing a calculus I was too young to understand and praying for my stillness to betray me. But he never asked why I was suddenly so quiet. Eventually, I blurted out, “What were you doing in Christina’s bedroom?”

“Tenía que arreglar algo.”

“You never have to fix anything in the kitchen or bathroom,” I said, recalling the previous detours. “It’s always the bedroom.”

Rubio finally confessed.
“Janguiando con mi novia.”

“But Mami’s your girlfriend.”

“No, Mami’s my wife. That mean she my best girlfriend. My favorite one of all.”

“But you’re not supposed to have
any
girlfriends once you
get a wife.” Said it just like that, closing myself to any more of his creative interpretations and insults to my intelligence. “That’s what God says.”

No wonder when Moms finally put him out, Rubio stopped paying my tuition at St. Gabe’s. At the time, though, he laughed. “And when God say that to you?” Then Rubio said, “As long as he take care of his wife and his children, it’s okay for a man to have a girlfriend, too. I take good care of you and your sister and Mami,
¿verdad?”
I didn’t understand this then, but now I would say,
You put me in a good school but don’t come to my spelling bees. You buy me toys, but you don’t play with me. You can’t take me to Yankee Stadium or the Bronx Zoo without stopping at a girlfriend’s house on the way home
. “But a good man keep his girlfriends a secret from his wife so he no hurt her feelings. There are many good women but very few good men, so all the good women have to share. The women don’t like the truth,
pero así son las cosas.”
I broke his code, though. If I told my mother about Rubio’s girlfriends and stomp her heart over something she could do nothing to change, then I would be just as bad as he.

“I tried to call it out, Candace.” Child or not, I need her to understand that. These days my hands are so dirty that as deeply as they’re buried in my pockets is the overwhelming urge for her to know how pristine they once were. “I might’ve been a kid, but I knew he was doing something wrong, and I tried to check him from jump. Rubio spun it as if he told me the truth on some father-son bonding shit,” I say. “He thought he was going to play me like he did my mother, using me as his alibi, but I wouldn’t let him. Eventually, when he’d say,
Frankie, you want to go see the Yankees?
I’d be like,
No. I want to go to Chingy’s house
. Rubio finally got the hint and left me out of his charades. Long before they split, he made me choose between her and him. I chose her.” This is the most I’ve said to anyone about this in years, and I feel
raw. Only quid pro quo can right the scales. “What about your father? You never talk about him either.”

Candace traces her fingertips along my sideburn. “He’s dead,” she says.

“My bad.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t really know him all that well. He left for Texas to work when I was really young, came back for a little while …” Candace laughs. “Long enough to plant my sister, I guess. Then he left again for another spell. A few years before Katrina hit, he came back with heart disease. My mom cared for him until he passed. I hate to admit it, but when he first came back from Texas, I avoided him.”

“Were you afraid to be around him, you know … because he was dying?”

“At first, I didn’t feel anything, Efrain, because he was a stranger to me. Then I felt so guilty, but I couldn’t stand that. It became much easier to be angry. I thought,
All this time away from us and now you only come home to make us watch you die.”