How Tía Lola Learned to Teach (6 page)

The very next day, at dinner, Tía Lola mentions Rudy’s birthday party on Saturday.

“
Ay
, no!” Mami wails. “I’d completely forgotten!” She hurries to the phone even though they’re in the middle of eating. “I better call your father and tell him not to come.”

Nobody answers at the apartment. Mami leaves a message, but she is almost one hundred percent sure Papi has already set out. “He talked about taking off for a long weekend.” She looks over at Miguel and Juanita, as if they
are on a sinking ship and she is trying to figure out how to save them. “I guess it won’t be the end of the world,” she says glumly.

I hope not, Miguel feels like saying. But then, his mother knows a lot more than he does about why his father is coming this weekend. What could be so bad that his mother should even think of comparing it to the end of the world?

“I know!” Juanita’s face lights up. “Papi can come to Rudy’s party!”

“I’m sure Rudy wouldn’t mind if we invited Daniel,” Tía Lola agrees.

“That would be so great!” Juanita is pumping her body up and down in her seat like a piston in a car engine. “He’ll get to see my piñata, Tía Lola!”

Miguel is almost sure that his little sister hasn’t a clue what Papi might be planning. But even if she does, Juanita has never questioned Carmen’s presence in Papi’s life. As far as Juanita is concerned, she’s got her New York City best friend, Ming, just as Miguel has José, and so why shouldn’t Papi have Carmen? That way, they can each have somebody special to hold hands with when they go to the zoo or to a ball game or to Brooklyn, to their
abuelitos’
apartment.

“Daniel’s not coming alone,” Mami says in a tight voice, looking over at Tía Lola. Miguel watches his aunt’s face. It’s like a sunrise, the slow dawning of a new day—or in this case, of the realization that Papi’s new life is about to land on their doorstep.

Rudy’s surprise party at his own restaurant is, of course, Tía Lola’s idea. This will be his sixtieth birthday, but he refuses to take the day off. “Why should I?” Rudy protests. “This is the funnest place to be on my birthday!”

“So we’ll just have his party at the
restaurante
,” Tía Lola decides. The only problem is trying to keep it a secret from Rudy.

All week long, anyone who has called for a reservation on Saturday has been invited to a party instead. Since it’s usually Shauna or Dawn answering calls, Rudy has no idea that this Saturday there’s going to be a big surprise fiesta at his restaurant. Juanita is making a donkey piñata with Tía Lola’s help. That is the best animal for a piñata, Juanita informs Miguel in her know-it-all voice.

“Donkey piñatas are totally boring,” Miguel informs her back in his know-it-all voice.

“No, they’re not! My piñata is real special.”

“Actually, you’re right,” Miguel says, pretending to change his mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a donkey piñata that looks so much like a chicken. Now, that
is
special.”

“It does
not
look like a chicken!” Juanita protests. Then she appeals to their aunt: “Does my piñata look like a chicken, Tía Lola?”

“It looks like a beautiful yellow donkey with a pointy nose,” Tía Lola assures her. Somehow that makes both children happy.

Tonight they are working in the kitchen so that Tía Lola can help with the piñatas while also minding the baking she’s doing for the party. She has already finished several batches of
suspiros
, cookies whose name means “sighs” because they are light and airy but (sigh!) gone before you know it. Also a tin full of
caballitos
, “little horses,” cookies with a kick of ginger. The kitchen smells delicious. Meanwhile, on the table, there are piles of bright tissue paper and a jar of paste and a pail of paintbrushes as well as chicken wire to make the frames on which to drape the strips of paper into a credible animal.

“So what are you going to make?” Juanita challenges her brother, who has been doodling another page of zeroes in his notebook.

Miguel shrugs like he doesn’t care. But in fact, he can’t seem to come up with any ideas at all for a cool piñata. He is starting to feel like a total loser, and not just in English class. When his little sister heads upstairs with Mami for her bedtime, Tía Lola sits down across the table from Miguel.

“¿Qué hay, Miguel?”
she asks. How is her nephew doing?

Miguel sighs and closes his notebook. “I feel like I’m not good at anything.” He is ready to admit it—out of earshot of his sister.

“Of course you are. You’re a good baseball player,” Tía Lola reminds him kindly. “You have a great imagination. You’re good with your hands. You have green fingers, like the Americans say.”

“It’s thumbs, Tía Lola, green thumbs,” Miguel corrects her. All last summer, Miguel did help Tía Lola with her vegetable garden, which she insisted on planting in the shape of the Dominican Republic. Actually, all he did was follow her directions. “And I’m not exactly good at any of those things, Tía Lola, just average. And lately, below average.”

“Con paciencia y con calma, se subió un burro en una palma,”
Tía Lola counsels. It’s a little rhyme that makes Miguel smile in spite of his impatience: “With patience and calm, even a donkey can climb a palm.” In his imagination, Miguel sees a donkey struggling to get up a palm tree.

“The best ideas come when you relax and let your mind play,” Tía Lola is saying. “So take a deep breath and count to ten.”

Miguel does just that. When he is done counting, Tía Lola tells him to begin again! “This time, I want you to count to ten in Spanish.
Uno, dos
 …” She talks Miguel through the exercise, reminding him to breathe between each number.

Just as they are getting to
diez
, ten, a flashbulb goes off in Miguel’s brain. He has a great idea for a piñata: a palm tree to go along with his sister’s donkey!

“What are you laughing at?” Mami has joined them in the kitchen after tucking in Juanita.

“Myself, I guess,” Miguel says, and that’s not a white lie either. Tía Lola has always said that a sense of humor is a sense of perspective. Now Miguel sort of knows
what she means. Everything that seems worrisome and huge can suddenly look manageable and small if you take the time to be patient and see the humor in things. Like imagining that poor donkey struggling to climb up a palm tree.

By Friday, however, Miguel is feeling impatient again. He sits in school all day, wondering if Papi has already arrived in Vermont. He counts to ten and
diez
so many times, any donkey would have climbed up to the clouds by now.

In math, the long-division problems seem to go on forever. Afterward, it’s science and how gravity works. Talk about
borrrring
! In social studies, the class is putting together a poster, titled
IF YOU WERE THERE IN 1492: EVERYDAY LIFE IN THE TIME OF COLUMBUS
. Who cares? Miguel thinks.

Then, after lunch, spelling, penmanship, and the dreaded reading period. By the time the final bell rings, Miguel is ready to bolt. But he still has to wait until his row is called. “One,
uno
, two,
dos
 …” He practices being patient.

Finally, Miguel is saying goodbye to Mrs. Stevens at the front entrance.
“Feliz fin de semana, Miguel,”
she says, showing off her Spanish.

“Happy weekend, Mrs. Stevens,” Miguel replies.

Out in the parking lot, Miguel scans the cars for out-of-state license plates. None in sight. But here’s his
little sister racing to join him, full of happy chatter about the weekend. Miguel will have to wait some more to reach the top of his palm tree: seeing Papi.

At long last, the bus drops them off at their mailbox. And there it is—a car with New York plates sitting in their driveway. But instead of racing ahead to be the first to hug his father, Miguel slows his steps. That sense of dread is descending again, like a great big collapsed palm tree on his head.

“Hey, Papi’s here!” Juanita has just now noticed the car. But before she can run off, Miguel stops her.

“Nita, I need to tell you something,” he begins patiently, wanting to prepare his little sister. “It’s about … well …” But Miguel can’t think of a way to say it more gently, and he ends up blurting it out: “I’m almost sure Papi’s going to marry Carmen.”

But his sister shrugs as if she still doesn’t seem to understand that Papi’s remarriage means they will be getting a stepmother. Now, Miguel’s not a big reader like Juanita. But anyone who has read even a handful of fairy tales knows stepmothers can be pretty evil.

“Carmen’ll be our stepmother,” he reminds her.

“Is that bad?” Juanita asks. The look on her face, as well as her question, sends a pang through Miguel’s heart. He’s been in such a hurry to grow up, but now he wishes he were still as sweet and innocent as his little sister. “I like Carmen, don’t you?” she adds.

Miguel hates to admit it, but his annoying, not-as-creative-as-a-fifth-grader baby sister has just made him
stop in his tracks. Slowed down, with patience and calm, Miguel realizes that he doesn’t dislike Carmen. What’s more, his father is a lot happier now than when he was all by himself. But it’s Mami that Miguel worries about. Even though she has never said so, Miguel senses that his liking Carmen would upset his mother. After all, unlike Papi, Mami hasn’t found someone new to love.

“Carmen’s okay,” Miguel admits to his little sister. “I just want to wait awhile before we get new families.”

“Miguel Ángel Guzmán!” His little sister cocks her head, hands on her hips, just like Mami when she is confronting him. “I thought you were the one always in a big huge hurry.” Word for word what Mami says!

“I am!” Miguel hollers, and starts racing down the driveway, his little sister at his heels. Whether or not he’s ready for a stepmother, Miguel is impatient about one thing: seeing his father.

lesson five

Los tropezones hacen levantar los pies
Stumbling makes you pick up your feet

It’s Saturday evening, almost time for Rudy’s surprise birthday party. While they wait for Papi and Carmen to arrive from the bed-and-breakfast down the road so they can all drive over to the restaurant, Juanita and Miguel go up to Tía Lola’s attic bedroom to visit with her. Miguel has a pressing question he can’t ask Mami.

“Papi said he wanted to come up because he had something to tell us, but he hasn’t told us anything,” Miguel begins. On the bed beside him is Tía Lola’s piñata, a flamingo with long, skinny legs and a droopy neck that makes it look like an ostrich wanting to hide
its head in the sand. But there is no mistaking its pink flamingo color.

“Knowing your
papi
, he’s probably waiting for the right moment,” Tía Lola suggests. “And today’s been so busy. First, going to your ballet class, Juanita, and then over to the slopes to watch you snowboard, Miguel. It has been a wonderful day, don’t you think?” But Tía Lola doesn’t wait for their answer. “Carmen is just so nice,” she adds—unnecessarily, in Miguel’s opinion. It has been great to have Papi around, period. But even he has to admit that he did appreciate Carmen’s exclaiming that Miguel Ángel is such a wonderful athlete, and ohmy-goodness! so brave to come down a steep mountain on a small board.