The Feria (2 page)

The cool California ocean swallowed Soledad. She dove under the water and came up for air, licking the salt on her lips. The warm California sun wrapped around every curve of her body.

Adios
, she thought as she turned and headed back for shore. Seaweed tangled on her calves and ankles. Reaching her towel, she wrapped her hair, then walked freely to the dirt path just beyond the pier. As she approached the dock, she became bashful of the men working on their boats, and removed the red towel from her hair and modestly wrapped it around her body. She was coming into her own, and recognized she was actually quite beautiful with her long, dark brown hair, and dark eyes, but she knew these men would steal inappropriate glances of her, and it made her uncomfortable. Her tan skin glistened in the sun especially her shoulders where her freshly released hair began to drip saltwater onto her arms and down her back.

It was a different time. Skirts were getting shorter, actresses were dictating what young girls should be wearing, and young girls were getting bolder. World War II was in full swing, the U.S. ready to move into the war, and the few girlfriends Soledad had had given up their virginities to boyfriends readying to go off to war or simply because they were certain life would soon be over and they needed that experience. Soledad didn’t feel the influence or the need to desperately be with someone in that way. She had very few boys who showed interest in her, but that didn’t bother her. Not only that, but her
father held a tight rein on her anyway.

Just passing the church, she made the sign of the Holy Cross. A few more steps and she approached the vintage cottage bungalow. The porch overran the red house.

“Cholita?”

“
Hola,
tía.”

“
Hola, mija
.” Her aunt was in the small kitchen. Soledad could feel the heat of the stove as she entered the room. She reached out to kiss her
tía
’s
cheek.

“I’m sweating,
mija
.” Her accent was beautiful. She wore underwear on her head to keep her hair out of her food, and had ever since Soledad was little. They worked best, she always said.

“I’m salty. Nice to meet you.” They laughed. “Where’s my papí?”

“You just missed him. He said to tell you to get everything together because you two will be departing just after dinner.”

“Night traveling scares me.”

Soledad’s aunt stopped patting the floured dough and put a powdered white hand on Soledad’s cheek. “You’ll be safe in the train. It’s sturdy. Nothing will happen, my Cholita. Why do you always think the worst?”

“My name means solid and health. To remain this way, I have to be careful and worry about things that would make me not healthy. Or dead, for example. Like if the conductor falls asleep!”

“Ayeee,
MIJA
!” Her
tía
sounded angry, slapping her dough onto the smooth flat griddle she used to make tortillas.

“Kidding!” The mood became suddenly solemn. “I’m going to miss you. Won’t you consider coming?”

“This is my home, Cholita. What would I be without home?”

“You could make a new home in El Paso, or even with my
abuelita
in
Juárez
. She would never turn a soul away. Plus they’re both beautiful places. Think about it.”

“My place is here, helping your
papá
take care of his trees when he is in El Paso. You need to understand how fortunate our family is to have these
bendiciones
, to have education. Your grandparents worked very hard to teach us to succeed. Now, this is where I belong.”

“I miss you so much when we are apart. I feel like it will be forever until I see you again when I come back for school.” Soledad stared down at her feet, still covered in sand, her hair almost completely dry.

Taking Soledad’s face in both her hands, her aunt kissed her forehead. “We are always together, right here.” She moved her hand over Soledad’s chest and an answering hand over her own.

Things had become tense in California. The war was instilling racial tension not only there but throughout the country. She imagined it was the same at home.

Soledad hailed from West Texas, El Paso, to be exact, but she also loved passing the time in its sister city,
Juárez
. She felt a natural affinity to both countries, and crossed the border, often several times a day, visiting her grandmother in Mexico. It was her safe place. But she also treasured her visits in California with her beloved aunt. This time when she returned home, though, she was unsure of when she would return. While the plans for Stanford seemed real enough, Soledad’s father wanted her closer to home, closer to the larger part of the family. He hinted at that often. The United States was expected to enter the World War at any given moment, and for as long as the war would go on and incite odd behavior in others, Soledad could very well find herself stuck in El Paso.

The bathwater felt good, easy as it cleansed her of the last of the saltiness she’d already come to miss. She heard her father arrive. He was the light of her life. Just hearing him in the room next door gave her peace. She cut her bath short. It would be night travel, so she dressed comfortably, throwing on rolled denim jeans and a purple shirt. She pulled up her wet hair into a bun. Her hair was so long and thick, it would still be wet when they arrived in El Paso the next morning. Night traveling was scary to her, but her father insisted it was safer. Nobody bothered anyone in the dark. People were calmer, more accepting, ready to settle in and relax. And if anyone were up to no good, her father would make sure to handle it. He was a brave man. He stood six feet and three inches. His dark hair and eyes mirrored Soledad’s. He was oddly very light-skinned, even considering that he worked in the sun. It was so peculiar.

Dinner was quiet. She, her father, and her aunt sat by candlelight, which was present throughout the house, illuminating paintings and family portraits creating a morphed look. The atmosphere set the mood for tranquility. Soledad was feeling nervous about the impending departure and night traveling.

“You stay close to my side, do you hear me?”

“Yes,
Papá
,” her voice was low, like a bashful child.

“Don’t look anyone in the eyes, and don’t speak. Keep your hands free at all times.”

Her father was going down the list of precautions and procedures. She couldn’t imagine what day traveling would be like if her father thought night traveling was safer, yet it came with several fearful uncertainties. But she didn’t argue.

As they left the home, Soledad kissed her
tía
. The tears came freely. She felt her
tía’s
quiet tears fall onto her cheek. While Soledad was set to return in a few months to attend Stanford, for whatever reason, it was like they both felt they wouldn’t see each other again. It was a different kind of goodbye.

“You be a good, smart girl, Cholita. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, I will,
Tía
. I promise.”

“Write to me.”

“Every day.”

At the train station, after receiving a blessing from the priest, she and her father boarded, and she watched until the priest disappeared. He was a kind man, a dear friend of her father’s and knowing Soledad’s stress, he had come to offer peace.

The stunning and simplified train was called
The Midnight Dazzle
. The porter led them to their sleeper car. Soledad noted that he was black, but as her father ordered, she quickly averted her gaze to the ground. The porter wished them a goodnight, and Soledad climbed into the full-sized bed. She was breathing heavy from a mixture of sadness and anxiety. The last thing she remembered before accidentally falling asleep was her father taking a pillow and top blanket off the bed and stationing himself in a sitting position against the entry door to the sleeper car. It disturbed her greatly, but she could no longer fight to stay awake. It only seemed like minutes before she heard her father.

“Cholita, it’s time to get up.” He gently shook her shoulder. He was a big man, yet his touch was tender.

Soledad’s eyes flickered at the light that beckoned them to open. Her father didn’t turn back to see if she was up. He was already preparing for their exit. She knew where they were and the fears that inhibited her the night before were now gone. She was safe; she was home. They stepped off the train, and there she was. Her mother was beautiful, ageless. She had on a black dress that reached the ground. It was hot for black, but her mother made it look cool and natural. She ran into her mother’s embrace.

“
Mi linda
.”

“
Mamá
!” The smell of her mother’s long black curls covered her.

“I never rest until you are with me.”

“I know,
Mamá.
”

The car ride seemed shorter than usual as she and her mother forced two months of updates into a twenty-minute drive.

Abuelita
was well, her best friend, Suki, had moved in with her, Soledad’s brothers were still getting into trouble,
Tía
was well in California, father was stressed as usual, the trees were producing in abundance, Adelita, the maid, had finally had her baby, and the
feria
was in town across the border, something Soledad already knew.

The first thing Soledad could see as they turned onto San Diego Avenue were the beautiful blue shutters that decorated her home. It was always her sign of peace no matter where she was coming from. As they drove up the steep driveway, she already had her hand on the door handle.

“
Calmada
,” her father scolded.

For as much as she adored California, it could not replace the love for her home. The three wide steps leading to a wrap-around porch and into the house were named
El Padre
,
El Hijo
,
y El Espiritu Santo
, blessings she’d claimed over her home since she was a child whenever she entered or left.

“
Gracias, Dios
,” she mouthed as she stood on the porch, stopping to smell the blossoms from the cherry tree whose branches hung overhead. There were stains on the porch floor from fallen cherries that had been walked on and smashed intentionally, probably by her brothers, before her mother could rescue them.

“The temperatures have been pretty ferocious,”
Señora
Gonzalez noted. “Cholita, you would have enjoyed the river in this weather.”

“Well, I didn’t have a river, but I did have an ocean,” she said with a laugh. “Plus, I still have plenty of time.”

As they entered the house, Soledad stood in the center of the kitchen looking to her left and saw that her grandmother’s rocking chair was in the front room. She gasped. “Is my
abuela
here?” Her voice carried excitement.

“No, but we are going to the
feria
in
Juárez
tonight, and we’ll stay the night with her. We can all come back here in the morning. She is anxious to be with you.”

While Soledad was exhausted, she would never resist her grandmother’s home, and she could never resist a night at the
feria
.

Finally at peace with the arrival of her husband and daughter,

Señora
Flor Gonzalez walked down the hall and into her bedroom where her husband was already lying down.

“Tough trip?”

“Tough everything.” His reply was heavy with stress.

“What’s the matter,
mi amor
?”

“So many things, I cannot even begin to tell you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t want to worry you, my Flor.”

“Definitely too late. I could sense you were troubled since the train station. Why haven’t you told me sooner?”

He sat up. “Because I am supposed to take care of everything, but everything seems to be failing me. This war has failed me, my trees are failing me, my body, failing me.”

“Your trees? What’s going on?”

“Next year’s harvest is already in jeopardy, and this year’s sales were exaggerated ... by me.”

“How do you already know what next harvest will bring?”

“Because I know my cherry trees, Flor. It’s been my life since I was a boy. I can look at a tree and tell when it’s sick, when it has disease, when it will fail.”

“Was it the weather, what?”

“Jaime, my best man, knowing the financial strain we are feeling because of this damn war ...”

“What?” Flor felt her voice an octave higher with suspense.

“He thought we could save on labor if he brought in temporary younger workers and paid them less. He was to teach them everything about harvesting. If I could just go back in time.”

Her heart skipped a beat. There was no hope in wishing for do-overs. If her husband was regretting his actions of the past, she knew very well it was time to be afraid. She swallowed hard to steady herself before speaking, hoping to convey calmness for her husband’s sake. “Well, what did these workers do?”

“They didn’t have the technique. They doomed us. They did everything exactly right to harm next year’s crop and exposed several trees to infection this off season.”

“You’re sure, Eduardo?”

He could hear the panic growing in his sweet wife’s voice. “I’m sure, Flor. I told you I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Go on.”

“The economy is stagnant. Sales were down as well, but we’ve made enough to sustain us for now.”

“And when it all catches up to us at next harvest? What then?”

“Flor, all of these things have run miles in my mind, every day and every night as I tried to sleep.”

“I can see how tired you must be.” She had immediately noted an aged and exhausted man the minute she’d seen him at the station.

“I’ve got plans. You have to trust me. But I must warn you,” he hesitated as she met his gaze, “You are not going to agree with what I’m about to tell you.”

Flor was fearful. She knew she had to trust her husband, but he knew her well, and if he warned her that she would not like what he was to say, he was probably correct. “
Dios Mio
,” she whispered. “How bad can it be?”

“I have been speaking long distance to a man named Emmanuel Nevarez.”

“Yes, I know of him, the banker.” She suddenly felt relieved, believing that communication with a man in charge of vast amounts of money could be something good for their livelihood.

“Flor, I’m not going to go into a long story, or delay the most important point. I am a farmer, and farmers need loans to survive in this devastated economy. Our trees have been damaged. We need to think about our future. If I don’t do this, we will be in great trouble this time next year. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“
Si
.” Again she whispered, daring to glimpse into such a bleak future and trying to protect her children even in her prophetic imaginings.

“Emmanuel is looking for a wife.”

Immediately Flor understood. “Eduardo!
Por favor
, NO!” Her tears did not wait. They rolled down her face before she could even catch her breath to begin sobbing. She had been standing over him this entire time but suddenly felt herself go faint. She slowly sat down at his feet.

“Flor, it’s the only way. Aside from giving me a loan, he owns a life insurance company that will also lend me additional money to put a long-term investment into our crop. He has friends in local businesses that will carry us on their books until our crops come in from the new trees.” Seeing her devastation, he moved over to her and held her. “Please trust me,
mi amor
. I tried every avenue twice and failed before I came to this conclusion. Our precious Soledad has provided a saving grace to our family.”

“She would stop at nothing to help her family,” Flor sobbed.

“Even giving herself away. What if they don’t have what we have? What if my daughter never gets to truly love? How can we forgive ourselves for robbing her of that?”

“How can we forgive ourselves for not protecting our family and keeping ourselves fed and alive? We must encourage her about this. Emmanuel will be at the
feria
tonight. I will introduce them briefly, and we will slowly ease into this plan. Not a word, Flor. Promise me.”

“I promise.” With those two words, Flor felt every bit of betrayal to her daughter.

“We don’t have very much time, but just enough to soften her to this, and she doesn’t have a choice, Flor. Do you understand what I’m telling you? It’s done.”

“
Si
.” The conversation was over. She accepted her daughter’s doom and spread herself out over their bed, arms first as though she were beginning a swim. She sobbed as quietly as her body would allow.

“
Mamá
?”

She could hear Soledad approaching from down the hall. Flor wiped the tears from her cheeks. Soledad could not see her like this. Immediately Flor dropped off the bed and onto her knees as if in prayer. Soledad would never interrupt her now. She could hear Soledad’s footsteps stop at her doorway.
Be still
. She tried to control her shaking body. Eduardo lay unmoving on the bed, perhaps pretending to sleep, she, pretending to pray. Already the lying to their precious daughter had begun. Now she really did pray.

“
Dios, perdoname
.”

She heard her daughter walk away quietly so not to disturb them.