A So-Called Vacation (12 page)

Gus approached Gabriel with a supreme serenity that belied the previous night's crisis. Yet underneath that
calm self-assurance, he radiated an undercurrent of energy that rivaled the Borrados' own. Gabriel, sensing that power, was convinced his brother could out-pick any of them hands down.

“From now, on I'm coasting.” He pretended to talk to Gabriel but turned slightly, aiming his comments at the Borrados. “Anyway, you run yourself into the ground and for what?”

The oldest Borrado could not help answering. “For treats, that's what for.”

“For treats?” Gus's face displayed a mixture of pity and disgust. “You mean all that sugar junk your father feeds you?”

“No. For trip treats. This summer he's taking us to Knott's Berry Farm.”

“To another farm? To pick more berries? Then what? Back to Texas to work in some watermelon patch?”

The oldest one's smile was just as smug. “No,
tonto
. It's a theme park with rides and everything. You'd know if your father ever took you.”

“We go every summer,” added the smallest Borrado, who blinked several times and then rubbed his eyelids.

Gus, noticing they were already red, concluded it was a nervous tic. He came closer to the boy and then stretched his own calves to make him appear even more puny. “Ask me if I give a rat's ass.”

But the revelation unhinged him enough that he opted to postpone the matchup with the Borrados. Instead, that evening after dinner he told their father: “After the Borrados finish here, their father's taking them to Knott's Berry Farm.”

“They're going to
another
grower? Christ, do those kids ever quit? They should form their own camp.”

“It's not work. It's R and R, a theme park. You'd know that if you'd ever take us on trips, Dad.”

Their father did not defend his actions. His mind appeared to be fixed elsewhere. “I tell you, if anyone deserves a vacation, it's those boys.”

Mom said, “So do ours,
mi amor
. We should be proud. They've done quite well, considering it's their first time.”

He gave Mom a perplexed look, as though they were trying to carry on a conversation in parallel realities. “Oh, you mean these two
señoritas
you gave me instead of sons? The same ones who take beauty naps every evening?” His father gave them a side long glance, as if amused that they had the gall to ask for equal treatment. “You already get lots of rest. You remind me of the way horses sleep. Every time I check up on you, you're standing in the fields, gawking or complaining.”

Gabriel almost added that the only way he could know was if he did the same thing. But the retort would almost certainly take the argument in another direction and that was exactly what his father wanted. Instead he exhaled deeply to steady his focus. “We mean a real rest.”

“Fine. First show me a real day's work.”

“Like the Borrados?”

Gabriel immediately realized that he had not only provided the noose but placed it around his own neck.

“Now you're talking,” said his father.

His father's amusement at his audacity to measure up to the Borrados only made Gus more determined.

“That's not fair,
mi amor
. I heard from some of the women that Don Pilo gives them vitamins and Mexican tonics.”

“You heard wrong, because you only heard what he tells all those mothers. The truth is, he gives them Mexican candy.”

“That's all?”

“That's all they need. That stuff is like shooting up sugar. That's why Mexican soft drinks give you a stronger kick. Here we switched to corn syrup, but over there they still sweeten their colas with the real thing.”

“Who told you he does that? He did?”

“He told a few of the men. He's not about to tell the women, of course. They'll start clucking their tongues in disapproval. But that's not even the point. The real medicine works up here.” He tapped his temple. “He's convinced them it works. Come on, do you think vitamins work miracles? If it were that simple I'd cram a whole jar down the throats of Gus and Gabriel.”

“That's not right,” she said, “even if it is just candy. It's not right to trick his boys like that.”

“Mom,” said Gus, “your husband messes with our heads all the time. Why don't you lecture him?”

“Ahh,” said their father, “where's the harm in a little sugar high? What they don't know can't hurt them. Think of all the chemicals we eat in our food.”

“What kind of reply is that?” she asked. “Are you saying that just because we don't know what's in our food it's not going to hurt us?”

“If it's not one thing that gets you, it's something else.” His father took a large bag of pork rinds, felt around, and held up the biggest one he could find. “So you might as well …” His final words of wisdom were drowned out by the loud crackling.

As his father went through his antics, it occurred to Gabriel that perhaps he should tell the Borrados about their father's treats. If the effect was, in fact, mostly mental, the truth might take the wind out of their sails.

Gus, though, had already hatched another plan. “Suppose that on any given day either Gabi or I beat the smallest Borrado.”

“That's horrible!” said their mother. “Why would you beat him up? And the smallest one at that?”

“I mean out-pick him, Mom.”

Paula gave a derisive snort. “That'll be the day.”

Gus, armed with the same tenacity he put to good use in sports, managed a supreme effort to ignore her in order to keep the pressure on his father. “Here's the deal, Dad. If we do beat them, then you treat us to Disneyland on the way back home.” He put out his hand and added, “Do we have a deal?”

Their father, sniffing for the trap on a technicality, tried to hedge with a vague reply until their mother pushed him back into the arena. “A couple of days' play for weeks of hard work,” she said. “Sounds more than fair. How can you lose?”

“That's right,” said Gabriel. “Everybody wins.”

When their father reluctantly stuck out his hand, Gus grabbed it before he could reconsider.

“Wow,” said Paula. “This is history in the making. I only wish I had film in my camera.”

Sensing they were on a roll, Gabriel quickly added, “Don Pilo also treats them to the pool on Saturdays. Like a little job perk. I guess it gets them motivated. It might do the same for us.”

“Let them have it, Dad,” said Paula. “If nothing else, it'll get them clean. They're starting to stink like goats.”

“Why you'd want to go there is beyond me,” said their father. “There's a perfectly good canal close by. I heard some of the boys go skinny dipping.”

Their mother came over and tapped him on the head with her work bonnet. “Don't encourage them to go there!
That's where some boys drowned last year. They were no older than Gustavo.”

“That may be true, but what's also true is that they figured they were old enough for a few beers.”

“Is that what did it?”

He gave her a peeved look, as if even asking strained the obvious. “By the time they went under they were already half-drowned in alcohol.”

Before the conversation could drift any further, Gabriel repeated his request for a day trip to the municipal pool. By now his father seemed so confident of the larger odds that he agreed to that too, on one condition.

“Fine. I'll even buy you swimming trunks. Then I'll pay the admission and drop you off at the gate. How's that?” He added one condition. “After that it's up to you two grackles to stay inside.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked their mother.

“Oh, nothing, just something a little bird told me.”

Paula, also in the know, smiled. “Let's just say nobody could confuse my brothers for the Borrados.”

“Who'd want that in the first place?” asked Gabriel.

“Who wouldn't?” she answered. “They're like cute leprechauns.”

Their mother, trying to open a can of peaches, asked innocently, “You said they're like lepers?”

Gus laughed. “You said it, Mom! That's how all the other guys treat them.”

“I meant like elves, Mom. Fairies.”

This time Gus practically howled. “They're fairies, all right!”

“Maybe,” said Paula, “but they kick your butts in the field, so what does that make you?”

It took Gus a while to recover from her withering smile. “Why do you bother defending them?”

“Because they're so fragile. Their skin's like …”

“Touch them sometime,” said Gabriel. “I'll bet they're slimy as snails.”

“Speaking of snails,” said Paula, “I can't wait to bet against you guys.”

Gabriel first made sure their parents were out of earshot. “Then you'd better go kiss their albino butts for good luck.”

“That's right,” said Gus. “First you go kiss their butts and then afterward we'll kick them.”

As always, Paula had the last word. “Now who believes in fairy tale endings?” She raised her voice for the benefit of their parents. “Anyway, I'm glad you're trying to follow in their footsteps. It's too bad you'll be trailing them by a country mile. But at least you'll be in the right place and in perfect position.” She made a silent kissing gesture. Then, making sure their parents weren't watching, she turned her own rear toward her brothers, as if inviting them to kiss it.

They had already prepared their cots when Gabriel heard his father say from across the partition, “To look at at the Borrados, you wouldn't give ten bucks for the lot.” Gabriel almost reminded him he and Gus were still awake when his father added, “You can't even call any one the runt of the litter, since the whole litter came out runts. But get them out on the field and they're like greyhounds on a track.”

“Just goes to show,” said their mother, “looks can deceive.”

His father glanced out the window, toward the darkness of Don Pilo's place. “No wonder they're already roosting by dusk. One thing I know for sure, they didn't get that energy from their old man.”

“I'm sure he's worn out from having to put them to bed each night. At least he's harmless. He's the only man who can talk to Mrs. Serenata without her husband getting insanely jealous.”

His father shook his head, as if in reproach. “What that woman has that is worth protecting is beyond me. I have to say, between our two neighbors Don Pilo definitely got the better deal. No nagging wife—”

“You can say that again.”

“And three hardworking kids.”

“They say she worked herself to an early grave, leaving the poor Borrado to raise their hyperactive sons.”

“I suppose it's no harder than raising lazy ones,” he said.

“But imagine having to harness all that energy …”

“I wouldn't mind, not if I could harness all the money that comes with it. Hell, look at us. We ended up harnessing two nags. All we get is their constant whining.”

Gabriel had stayed glued to the conversation, waiting for the inevitable putdown. “I heard that,” he said, banging on the pegboard partition.

“Get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“I don't think they'll last that long,” said Paula. “I give them two rounds at most. Dad, you're the one who needs to rest. I'll bet that by noon you'll have to drag them out of the field feet first.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself,” Gabriel called out. “Tomorrow's Saturday.”

“Oh, of course!” said his mom. “Well, all the more reason to rest. That way you'll make full use of the day.”

In his mind the fact that his father had agreed to buy them trunks and pay the pool admission somehow enhanced the odds that he might have to make good on
the much bigger bet. “So what time are you taking us to the pool, Dad?” He waited, believing that his father was mentally checking his own Saturday schedule, but there was only silence. Since it was too soon for him to have already fallen asleep, Gabriel began to worry that he might renege. “Dad? Dad?”

“Please,” said Paula, “will somebody get up and give the baby his bottle?”

Gabriel ignored her. “Dad? What time?”

“Well, what time do the stores open for those swim trunks?”

“About ten, I think.”

“Then ten it is. Then I'll drop you off at the pool before noon. I'll even wait outside to pick you up when they throw you out.”

“Dad.” It was Paula, who he acknowledged with an absentminded hmm. “Just don't buy those trunks with loud colors. We don't want them to … stand out. Get them some pastels instead.”

They shared a conspiratorial chuckle. “You're right,” he answered. “We'll have to tone down that tan.”

E
arlier that week, Gabriel and his family had been looking forward to going to town together that Saturday. But they had been around each other in the fields and in the claustrophobic shack for so long that by the time the weekend arrived, they agreed to go in different directions. Even Paula, who had decided to join their mother at the movies, couldn't wait to blot out every face in the darkened theater.