Isabel's Texas Two-Step (15 page)

E
ven though Xochitl and her dad had left hours ago, and Ricardo admitted exhaustion and had gone to bed, I was still hyper beyond human capacity. The party was definitely over, but Mom and her best friend, Luisa, sat alone at a table, catching up. I wondered if Mom was tired, and got an idea.

A few minutes later I showed up, pushing the wheelchair Uncle Hector had provided for Mom.

“How did you know I could use a lift?” she asked. “My Isabel,” she said to Luisa. “She's my wonderful helper.” I leaned into her. She put her arm around my waist as they continued to talk quietly.

Ever since I was a little girl, I loved sitting with my mother and her best friend. I'd listen in on their conversation, amazed by how the two old friends never seemed to tire of each other. I thought of the BSG, back in Brookline. I was one hundred percent certain we'd all still be friends when we were my mom's age.

Elena Maria came to say good night. Her friends had long since gone to bed, tucked in sleeping bags crammed head to toe.

“I couldn't sleep without saying good night…and thanking you,” she said as she hugged Mom.

She pulled up a chair. Luisa reached for the necklace Father Miguel had given to Elena. “This is lovely, Elena Maria,” she said.

“Thank you,” she started to say, but was interrupted by a wide yawn.

“Go to sleep now,
mi 'jita.
” My mom laughed.

Elena nodded. “
Buenas noches,
ladies,” she said. As I watched her float off to her room, I wondered how long it would take her to come down to earth.

“I think it's time for you and me to turn in, as well,” Mom said, looking over at me.

“I'll help,” I said, springing into action and bringing the chair around.

Mom was tired, I could tell. Luisa held my mother's arm and steadied her into the seat. She stopped me before we rolled off. “Isabel, I am so proud of the Martinez family. I can tell that you and your sister have matured during your stay in Brookline. Despite the separation from your father and your friends and your school, the two of you have managed to stay happy. You must be very comforting to your mother.”

How could I tell her that she had it all wrong? “It's Mom who's been the comfort to us. Elena Maria and I were kind of nervous about living with Aunt Lourdes. She can
be a little strict sometimes. But whenever I feel lost in Boston, all I have to do is come home and Mom is there, and I don't feel so alone anymore. She's one strong mom!”

“Oh, sweetheart!” Mom said, and started to cry.

“
Que bonito
,” Luisa said. Her eyes and nose turned red. She cried too.

“Why's everybody crying? Life is good for us.
¿Verdad, Mami
?”

Mom and Luisa locked eyes and nodded to each other.

“Yes, it is, my dear. Oh my, such wisdom from such a young girl!”

“No.” I laughed. “I'm just telling it like it is.”

Both of gave a little wave to Dad, who was talking with Aunt Inez, as we left the party and headed for Mom's room. When we got there, Mom and I chatted for a few more minutes.

“When Papa popped out of that van I just about fainted!” I told my mom. “I knew he had something up his sleeve, but what a surprise! Bringing so many of Elena Maria's friends to the party was brilliant. And bringing Luisa, too. He really pulled a fast one.”

“That he did, sweetheart.”

“How long is Papa staying?” I asked.

“Luisa and the girls are flying back the day after tomorrow. Your papa will leave the same day we do.”

“Hurray! It's been so fun hanging out with all our family this week.”

“
Ay, mi hijita
,” Mom said with a sigh. “Although for
a minute there, things got a little touchy between me and your Aunt Inez.”

“Maybe you were just tired, Mom.”

“No, honey. I think it was more than that. I was confused by my feelings. But I think that perhaps I was…a bit resentful of her?”

My mom? Resentful? It was so weird to think of grown-ups feeling that way.

“The way she took control of everything. She didn't even consult me on the menu! Sometimes I felt like I wasn't even the mother of the
quince
. Oh, Isabel, just listen to me. Inez did everything she could to save me from all this work. There is no way I could have done even half of what she did. I'm envious, that's what it is, and I should be grateful. I
am
grateful. Inez deserves all the credit. Please don't tell your sister this, but I'm so glad this is over. Now we can all sit back and just be
family
.”

A flashbulb suddenly went off in my head. I had been a little jealous of my sister and her friends!

“Mom, I have a confession too. I was resentful too. Elena Maria called me an attention hog the other day. I was pretty mad about it. But I think she was right, some of the time. I think my problem was that I didn't like
sharing
her so much with her friends. Sometimes I think we've gotten superclose from living in the same bedroom, and then there are times when I think I just don't know her at all.”

Mom looked at me sympathetically. “Oh, my dear. It's hard to let go, but that's what we must begin to do with
teenagers. Soon you'll be a teenager too.” She smiled. “We all want our relatives—our parents, our sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins—to be perfect, don't we? But that's not life,
mi amor
. So don't be too hard on yourself. Never forget that it takes a lifetime to really learn to fly.”

What she said sounded like something that I knew would make a great caption for one of my cartoons one day. “I'm going to quote you on that, Mom.” I kissed her on the forehead and yawned.

Minutes later, I lay snuggled up in my charming room once again. My mind raced over the evening's events. Everything seemed like a movie dream: the incredibly huge oak tree and the sunset, the gorgeous decorations, the mariachis and the flawless dance by the honor court, Scott's cake, armadillos. I felt so far from Brookline and Abigail Adams Junior High.

Just below my window, Freckles shrieked, “Cock-a-doodle-doooooo.” I couldn't believe it was so late at night that it was actually morning! The sun would soon be up. I glanced at the family photo by the candle on the night-stand and drifted off to sleep.

R
icardo ran into the great room just as I was reaching to take down the last string of
papel picado
. It made me a little sad to see all the pretty
quinceañera
decorations folded and put into boxes, but I felt lucky that undecorating was my only assigned job on the “cleaning crew.”

“Isabel! Xochitl and Mr. Guerrero are here!” Ricardo cried. “I just saw them getting out of his truck!”

I was down off the ladder in two seconds flat. “You remember the plan, right?” he asked as we raced out of the room. We wanted to show Mr. Guerrero the cave where we found the art, get him to drop us off back at the house, and maybe he'd be gone before Uncle Hector even knew the Guerreros were here!

Ricardo and I had said “I'm sorry” so many times this week, we were apologized-out! We just didn't have one more “I'm sorry” left. We figured it would be better to write Mr. Guerrero an apology letter…a very nice apology letter. I even planned to include one of my cartoons.

Unfortunately, as we skidded out into the dusty front yard, I saw that we were too late. Uncle Hector was shaking hands with Mr. Guerrero already and inviting him into the house.

“What now?” Ricardo whispered to me. I gulped.

“It's face-the-music time,” I said.

Xochitl dashed over to greet us. “Hey, guys! Rockin' party last night. Thanks for the invite.”

“No prob,” I assured her. “You didn't tell your dad about the statue yet, did you?”

Xochitl's face fell. “No. I hope he doesn't get too mad at you.”

“Me too.”

Uncle Hector called out to us. “Kids! Head on into the house. We'll meet you in the living room. Ricardo, turn on the lights for the collection, please.” We all looked at one another solemnly, knowing what that meant. We marched into the house like a line of prisoners, staring at the floor. I was trying to blink back tears. I could see the headlines now.
ISABEL MARTINEZ DESTROYS PRICELESS WORK OF ART.

As Mr. Guerrero followed Uncle Hector into the living room, I saw his eyes scanning the room. They stopped on the glass eagle statue, glowing under the lights. He smiled and started to walk toward it, then stopped. He frowned. He stepped forward slowly until he reached it. Stretching one of his huge hands forward, he ran his finger gently over the seam where we'd glued the wing tip back on.

This was just too horrible to watch, so I buried my face
in my hands. I felt Xochitl slip her arm around my shoulders.

“So that is the issue, Cesar,” Uncle Hector said from the doorway. “And I think these two have something to say to you.”

“It was my fault, Mr. Guerrero,” Ricardo offered boldly. “I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” I added softly, peeking out from between my fingers.

Mr. Guerrero turned around to face us, and to my surprise, he had a small smile on his face. I raised my head. “And were you also the ones who did the repair work?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Well done, Isabel. If I did not know this piece so well, I might not even have noticed the chip.” Xochitl squeezed my shoulders encouragingly.

“Th-thanks,” I spit out. I couldn't believe it. He didn't hate me?

“Let me tell you two a story,” he began. “It is said that the sculptor Michelangelo's greatest desire was the impossible: not just to imitate life in stone, but to actually create it. And finally, one day, he carved a statue of Moses that was so realistic, so lifelike, that it seemed to him he must have finally achieved his goal. He approached his work and spoke to it. ‘Why don't you speak?' he commanded the stone. Yet the statue, being nothing more than rock, would not move. After several minutes he grew so frustrated that it would not answer him, he threw his hammer and chisel
at it, breaking a chip off the knee. If you go to see the statue of Moses in Rome, you can see the small damage.

“So,” he said as he finished, running his finger again over the tip of glass eagle's wing, “I am in good company. The very best.”

We all stood there, staring at the statue. Finally Xochitl broke the silence. “Good story, Dad,” she told him. “
Now
can we see the cave art?”

Everyone laughed. “You are a forgiving man, Cesar,” Uncle Hector commented. “My wife was very upset when she saw the damage to this piece. It's one of her favorites.”

“Well, I'm glad she enjoys it so much. And it's no trouble to be forgiving. Unlike Michelangelo, I love my statues, but I love the living and the breathing more. That's where my art comes from.” He looked at Xochitl, Ricardo, and me. “Now, as Xochitl says, let's get on to real reason we came out here today.”

We all filed into the hallway and headed for the front door again.

“Your dad is really cool, Xochitl,” Ricardo told her.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” she said thoughtfully.

“No, really. You're so lucky,” he went on. There was that word again. “Lucky.” The word Ricardo didn't like when I said it about his family. What was in Ricardo's mind? I wondered.

Suddenly, we rounded a corner and came face-to-face with my mom and Aunt Inez, arm in arm, having a laughing fit as they walked down the hall. It looked like they
definitely weren't arguing anymore. My dad was walking right behind them.

“Oh!” my mother exclaimed, out of breath. “Inez, I didn't know you were expecting visitors. Jorge and I wouldn't have kept you chatting in the kitchen with us.”

“We're here because of your daughter's amazing discovery, Mrs. Martinez,” Mr. Guerrero told her. Ricardo and I exchanged looks.

“Discovery?” my mother asked, sounding puzzled.
Here we go again,
I thought. What would this be, confession number twelve? By now I so over being nervous about telling anybody anything that I spoke right up.

“Yep. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, Mami. I reeeeally wanted to, but we didn't think it would be a good idea to worry you before the
quince
.”

“Tell me what,
mi 'jita
?”

“That…Ricardo and I spent the night that it rained so much in a cave by the
tinaja,
and we found this amazing cave art that's probably thousands of years old.”

“
What?!
” my dad and mom said at the exact same time. It looked like my mom was going to faint. Good thing Aunt Inez and Dad were right there to support her. “
¡Dios mío!
You spent the night in a cave? And what is this about art? Will someone please tell me what is going on here?”

“Let's go into the living room,” Aunt Inez suggested calmly.

W
e all trooped back to the living room and settled in on the big, comfy leather couches while Ricardo and I told my parents everything, from breaking the eagle to our ride on Rasquatch to the creepy cave and the incredible art.

“And believe me, Ricardo has learned his lesson about putting others in dangerous situations,” Uncle Hector assured my parents when we were done. Ricardo's face instantly went from excited, telling my parents and the Guerreros all about the armadillos we saw, to frowning, just like that.

“That's right,” Aunt Inez continued. “And he knows he is not to come into this room by himself anymore under any circumstances. Isn't that right, Ricardo?”

“You know, I'm not a little kid, Mom,” Ricardo retorted. Aunt Inez's mouth formed a perfect O. Everyone was so
surprised at Ricardo's outburst, we didn't know what to do. He didn't seem to notice, though. “You think you know everything about me, but you don't know anything! All you guys care about is your expensive art and giving fancy parties and landscaping the patio! You didn't even care when I played my accordion at the
quinceañera
last night!”

We all sat in embarrassed silence. So that was why Ricardo didn't like to talk about all the cool stuff his family had. He thought his parents did waaaay too much talking about it already.

Finally Aunt Inez spoke. She sounded a little choked up. “I noticed, Rico,” she said softly. “I noticed when you played. I thought you sounded lovely.”

He was quiet for a while too. “Really?” he said.

“Of course,” she told him, coming over to wrap him in a giant hug. I could see his face turning beet red. I guessed it was pretty embarrassing for a guy to have his mom hug him in front of everybody. But I figured, underneath, it was probably exactly what Ricardo needed.

“We're proud of your talents, son,” Uncle Hector agreed and patted Ricardo on the back.

Aunt Inez finally let him out of her arms, and he scooted quickly away from her on the couch, looking like he wanted to shrivel up and fall through the space between the cushions. I exchanged a look with Xochitl.
Boys
. One minute they act all angry, the next they act all embarrassed, when really on the inside they're sad and then happy, just like us.

“Now, why didn't you tell me about your adventures, Isabel?” my mother asked. I suddenly felt ashamed. She had shared the secret of the
papel picado
with me, and I had been keeping all of these secrets from her just because I didn't want to get in trouble.

“We didn't want to worry you, Esperanza,” Uncle Hector jumped in. “There was so much going on with the
quince
—we didn't want to tire you out.”

Dad opened his mouth to speak, but Mom held up a hand to silence him. “Please. I will speak for myself. Listen to me now, all of you. Everyone loves to tell me how strong I am, and then at the very same time, treat me like I am some delicate, breakable object—like your glass eagle!” She paused. “I am no glass eagle. I am just me. A person with MS. A daughter, a sister, a wife, and especially a mother. And when something is going on with my children, I want to know. It's a mother's job to know.” She smiled at me. “Deal?”

“Deal!” Everyone shouted.

“We never meant to offend you, Esperanza,” Uncle Hector apologized. “It's only because we care about you.”

“I know. And I thank you for your care. But I like caring for others too.” I snuggled in next to my mom and looked around the room at my family and my new friends, Mr. Guerrero and Xochitl. Now that everybody knew everything, I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders…the weight of a giant glass eagle!

“Come,” said Mr. Guerrero, standing up and stretching his long legs. “This has been a day of many secrets.
But I think the best secret of all will be what's hiding in the cave by your
tinaja.
”

“We'll show you!” I said, springing up and grabbing Ricardo by the arm. “Let's go!”

To be continued…