When Reason Breaks (16 page)

Elizabeth paused again and scanned the room. Most students stared directly at her. Emily and a few others wrote in their notebooks. Ms. Diaz nodded for her to continue.

“Finally, I noticed she often uses exclamation points.”

“You go from suicide to punctuation marks?” Kevin asked. “So she was excited? Whoa, that
is
dark.”

Elizabeth glared at Kevin.

“Ignore him,” Ms. Diaz said. “Go on.”

“Maybe she was excited in some of them, but all of those exclamation points made me think … well, I know you told us we can't assume everything a writer produces is about her own life … but when I saw those exclamation points, I thought …”

Ms. Diaz gradually moved forward from the back of the room to stand a few feet away from Elizabeth. The girl turned her head and focused on Ms. Diaz instead of the waiting students.

“What did you think?” asked Ms. Diaz.

“That maybe she understood.”

“Understood what?”

“Anger. Maybe she got pissed off, too. And not a little mad, but furious, like if a monster's inside you, squeezing your lungs so you can't breathe and pounding you right between the eyes with its fist.”

The class held its collective breath, waiting for their teacher's response.

“And, Ms. Gilbert knows all about this?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said and shifted from one foot to the other.

“Okay. Continue.” Ms. Diaz strolled to her previous spot in the back of the room.

“After reading some of these other poems, I came back to the poem Emily and I read,” said Elizabeth. “And, it definitely had an underlying tone of resentment. My picture is disturbing, but I think it fits the poem perfectly. I mean, the
person in the poem thinks she matters so little that her death would go unnoticed.
That's
disturbing.

“So, I didn't change the picture. I'm hoping the additional research and extra credit will make up for any points I'll lose for not changing the picture.”

The class was quiet for a moment, waiting.

“The end,” Elizabeth said, unsure of how to finish the presentation.

Her classmates and Ms. Diaz laughed in response.

“Well done,” said Ms. Diaz.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not in trouble?”

“No.”

“Sweet!” Elizabeth walked to her seat with a genuine smile on her face.

Next to her, Emily shut her notebook to hide what she wrote inside:

Living hurts us more
…

My life—a loaded gun … When will it go off?

A still volcano … When will it erupt?

When the bell rang, Elizabeth let the class empty and then approached Ms. Diaz's desk. She opened her bag and pulled out a shoe box that was bent in a few places and completely wrapped in duct tape.

“Here, this is for you,” said Elizabeth.

Ms. Diaz turned the box over, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Thanks. What is it exactly?”

“A bunch of my stuff, poems and drawings mostly. I want you to have them.”

“Aren't they important to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you giving them away?”

Elizabeth shrugged.

“Can I read them?” asked Ms. Diaz.

“Not yet. I'll tell you when.”

Elizabeth turned toward the door.

“Wait,” said Ms. Diaz. She grabbed a black binder from her bookshelf, wiped off a visible layer of dust, and wrapped masking tape around it several times.

“There.” She placed it next to Elizabeth's box.

“What's that?”

“A writing project I set aside when someone I loved died suddenly. Nothing mattered since she was gone. I keep promising myself I'll finish it, but year after year the binder sits here and collects dust. The tape is a formality.”

She stared at the binder and shoe box for a second and then added, “I'll tear off the tape and finally do something with it when you're ready to share yours. No pressure. Whenever. I'll be ready when you are.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth headed toward the door but stopped and spun around. “Ms. D, can I ask you something? You seem fine now. How did you get there?”

“After a while, something clicked inside me. It's hard to explain, but at that moment, I was ready to let some things go and move forward.”

“Something clicks?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yeah. You'll know. That's the beginning of a long process.” Ms. Diaz pressed her palm on the center of her binder. “I'm not entirely fine yet. I'm still waiting for a couple of things to click.”

Unsure of what to say, Elizabeth was about to walk out when Ms. Diaz said, “I'm curious about the pink blindfold reference. No Doubt is a little old for you, aren't they?”

Elizabeth grinned. “My dad left a few of his CDs behind.”

“He left an awful lot behind,” said Ms. Diaz. “I'm sure he misses … everything.”

“You really think so?”

Ms. Diaz nodded.

Elizabeth grinned and then bolted out of the room, wiping her eyes with her shirtsleeves.

Dear Ms. Diaz
,

It's Christmastime. I'm grateful for all I have, yet I'm dreading being home for almost two weeks. That's all
.

Dear Elizabeth
,

You're a smart, talented girl. If you find these days off from school unbearable, and you need to get away from your family, then do that. Go outside and discover something beautiful. Take pictures, draw, or write poetry. Do something. Sitting and thinking too much will make matters worse. I hope this helps
.

Sincerely
,

Ms. Diaz

The Delgados sat in their ornate, candlelit dining room, silverware and china clinking on dinner plates as sweet potatoes, roasted ham, and
pasteles
made their way around the table. Water, wine, and
coquito
generously spilled into waiting crystal glasses.

Pop and Mamá balanced the table, sitting at opposite ends, with Austin and Tía Liana on one side and Emily on the other.

“So, how's the school year, Sis?” asked Austin. He looked a lot like Pop: tall and broad-shouldered with thick, dark hair and a Hollywood smile. They both looked intently at whoever was talking, as if whatever was being said was the most important thing they had ever heard.

“Fine.”

“Her grades are down,” said Pop. “She never handed in an essay in English. I check your grades online, you know.”

“I know,” said Emily. “And my teacher gave me an extension on the paper.”

“I'm sure it wasn't an indefinite extension. And she has a B+ in Spanish, of all things.
¿Pueden creerlo?
”

“Give her a break, Eddie,” said Tía Liana, the only person who got away with using her little brother's childhood nickname.

Emily grinned at Tía Liana. She was a perpetual student who was now pursuing a doctorate in fine arts. Always outspoken and spunky, she was quick to pick up her ankle-length peasant skirt and kick off her shoes to chase Emily and Austin around the house when they were younger. She painted with similar abandon, which is why splashes of color often streaked her clothes. Her brown, curly hair was usually tied back, high in a ponytail, so it didn't get in her way.

“Going to school is her job,” Pop said. “We expect her to work hard and get good grades. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, but no one's perfect,” said Tía Liana. “A B+ is a good grade, and she missed one essay in English.
¿Y qué?
She probably handed in fifty others on time.”

“I'm in the top ten percent of my class,” Emily said quietly.

“That's great, Em,” said Austin.

“Your brother was valedictorian,” said Pop.

“How could we forget?” Tía Liana lifted the glass plate of
pasteles
. “So much food, Eddie, it's a shame your mouth is empty.
Adelante, come más
.”

The others laughed.

“Sure, send them down,
Hermana
,” he said, accepting the offer but ignoring the overt message to stop talking. Tía Liana winked at Emily.

“And you all wonder why I don't visit more often,” said Austin with a smile. “Maybe we should talk about something less hostile on the eve of our savior's birth. How about those Red Sox, huh?”

“You know I'm a Yankees fan,” said Pop. “And your comment reminds me, we are all going to midnight Mass tonight. I don't want any arguments. This one has been throwing a tantrum every Sunday.”

“Oh, here we go,” said Emily. She turned to her mother who was eating small bites of food and sipping her wine. “Mamá, are you going to say anything?”

“
¿Qué quieres que te diga?
” she asked.

“I don't know, something, anything to help me out here.”

“You're old enough to fight your own battles,” said Mamá.

Emily's breath caught short. She swallowed hard and said, “O-kay then, what about Austin? Does he attend church in Amherst?”

Austin shook his head and shot his sister the “
cállate la boca
” glare. He coughed before he said, “I go most Sundays.”

“Not every Sunday? Does that really count then?” asked Emily.

“The
pasteles
are delicious, Em,” Austin said. “You should eat more. You're a little
flaca
.”

Everyone laughed.

“Saying grace tonight was probably the first time she's prayed in weeks,” said Pop.

“How do you know that, Pop?” asked Emily. “I can pray anytime and anywhere I want.”

“ ‘Some keep the Sabbath going to church. I keep it staying at home,' ” said Austin.

“Who said that?” asked Emily.

“A famous female poet who stopped going to church,” said Austin. “Come on, I go to Amherst College. You get one guess.”

“Emily Dickinson,” said Tía Liana. “That was way too easy.”

“Okay, but she made the same point as you, Em; she didn't need traditional religion to be spiritual.”

“Because ‘The kingdom of God is within you,' ” said Tía Liana.

“Who said that?” asked Austin.

“Jesus. It's also the title of a book by Tolstoy.”

“Show off,” Pop said and laughed.

“Well, I
was
valedictorian,” she said with a smile. “Were you, Eddie? I don't remember.”

“Emily, pass the
pasteles
to Tía,” said Pop.

“No thanks. I'll fill my mouth with this instead.” She lifted her glass of
coquito
. “Cheers, everyone.”

They all raised and clinked their glasses.

“So, I've been thinking …,” Pop started.

“Good for you!” said Tía Liana.

Everyone snickered. “So, like I was saying, I've been thinking … about running for state representative.”

Tía Liana jumped out of her seat to hug her brother. Austin and Emily followed, but Mamá stayed in her seat. When Emily returned to her place, she gripped the side of her chair with one hand and gulped her water with the other. Her pulse raced and small beads of sweat formed at her hairline.

“My party's behind me,
gracias a Dios
, but it's still going to be a lot of work,” said Pop. “This will be a bigger campaign, so it'd have to be a team effort. Isabel will go out more, attend some charity functions and whatnot.” Emily glanced at Mamá, who sat still and smiled without showing any teeth. “Austin, you better not get caught at any keg parties or participating in fraternity hazing or anything stupid like that. And Emily, you need to get your grades up and stay out of trouble. You remember what happened when you were caught drinking.”

“How could I forget?”

“This isn't a joke, Emily. We are educated, moral Latinos who attend church and live by rock-solid family values.”

“Is that what you believe or is that your campaign slogan?” asked Tía Liana.

“Both,” he said. “My point is, my opponents will be ready to pounce.
¿Entienden?
”

“And what if they misstep? What then, Eddie?” asked Tía Liana.

“I don't know, maybe a military academy for Austin or a Catholic boarding school for Emily.”

Tía Liana howled with laughter, but stopped when no one joined her.

“You're serious? Come on, Eddie.” She turned to Emily's mom. “¿Isabel,
vas a decir algo
?”

“Yes,” said Mamá. Emily held her breath and prayed her mom would say,
No más, Edwin. Your children need room to screw up. That's what kids do. That's what you did
. And then she'd spill some of his childhood slipups and he could never again pretend to be perfect or expect them to be.

Instead, she sighed and announced, “It's time for dessert.”

Emily wanted to sprint from the table, but white flecks spotted her vision and she was certain she'd land facedown on the gleaming hardwood floors if she tried to stand.

The day after Christmas, Austin drove Emily to Abby's house for their annual gift-exchange-while-eating-leftovers ritual. Since Austin was on holiday break and had nothing better to do, he joined them.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” said Abby as she hugged Austin.

“I even brought a gift for the hostess.” He opened his jacket and lifted a small plastic soda bottle filled with
coquito
from his inside pocket.

“Yummy! Keep it hidden until we're downstairs.”

Emily slapped Austin's arm and said, “Are you insane? Didn't you hear what Pop said on Christmas Eve?”

“He said I better not
get caught
doing anything stupid. He didn't say not to do stupid things.”

“Nice! Your brother is officially in the Social Ninja Club!”