Finn (23 page)

It was Marian. She was wearing all black, including a black beret. I asked her if someone had died and she said no, that she was wearing black in honor of Silvia’s tragic circumstances, as a sign of respect. The more I learned about the world, the less Marian amused me. I told her that Silvia didn’t need people wearing black. What she needed was help staying in the country.

“Oh, really?” Marian asked, in a kind of drawl, the kind she uses when she has something up her sleeve. She wouldn’t answer any of my questions. She said she needed to see Silvia before she’d explain herself.

I took Marian over to the psychiatric ward—which is where
she
really belonged—but they didn’t let us in, even after Marian pretended to be from the Mexican embassy. Marian’s Mexican accent sounded like a taco commercial, but even a perfect accent wouldn’t have worked. The Mexican embassy had just called to say that Silvia’s case was a matter for the police and that she would have to deal with it on her own.

I tried to take Marian to see Baby Morales, but there was a new nurse at the desk and they wouldn’t let us in because we weren’t family. I didn’t tell Marian about the baby’s name. That’s just the kind of information she would have abused.

We had struck out. Even the cafeteria was closed for construction. We wound up in the lobby, sliding around on hard plastic chairs. Marian pretended to be interested in my cast for a while, but she kept looking towards the hospital entrance. I asked if she had someplace better to be.

“Whatever gives you that impression?” she said. Her haughtiness only confirmed my suspicions.

Then, of all the people in the world, Roberto walked in. His gold teeth flashed in the flourescent light. He stopped in front of the Information Desk, looking anxious and lost.

“I have a confession to make,” Marian blurted. “I made a few calls.”

Roberto saw us and came over and gave me a huge hug, which he had never done before but which under the circumstances was perfectly appropriate. He thanked me for all I had done for Silvia, which stung a little. I introduced Roberto to Marian, and even though he was extremely keen to see Silvia, he thanked her and kissed Marian’s hand—not in a goofy way, but in a very natural way. I wanted to know what was up with that, but Marian just smiled and made a big “Okay” sign with her fingers behind his back.

Roberto wanted to see Silvia right away. I explained on the way over that she was being guarded by police and that he could try, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t let him in. I had never seen him so determined. It made him very handsome.

When we got to Silvia’s ward, the guard stopped him at the desk and asked him what his business was. He said he was Silvia’s husband and he demanded to see her right away. The guard was impressed. He immediately picked up a telephone and spoke quietly into it. He made out a special pass for Roberto and said that “the children”—meaning Marian and me—would have to wait outside.

While we were waiting, Marian told me that she had gotten Roberto’s number from Silvia, back when we were in the gardening shed. She had done it secretly, so I wouldn’t think she was butting in. “Butting into what?” I said.

“Your adventure,” she said. “Hell-o?”

Then Marian told me she had called VISA to make sure the charge for the airplane tickets had gone through. They told her it hadn’t, so she called the airline. Her next call was to Roberto, telling him to come right away. She didn’t mention it, but I was sure she bought Roberto’s ticket.

I told Marian she was awesome, but secretly I was furious that the one thing she had done for Silvia was better than everything I had done for her, put together.

I changed the subject. I said I couldn’t believe what a smart move it was for Roberto to say he was Silvia’s husband. That made him family, which was the one category of person they said was allowed to see Silvia. The baby didn’t count as family, apparently. Marian said she thought Roberto was a perfect gentleman, and understood why Silvia had Surrendered Her Sacred Prize for a guy like that.

Roberto came out about fifteen minutes later. His hands were shaking. I made him sit down and catch his breath.

“She looks awful,” he said. “Just terrible.”

I told him that having babies takes a serious toll on women and that they often looked the worse for wear. I didn’t know it for a fact, but it sounded like common sense. I asked Roberto if he wanted to see his baby. “My baby?” he said. The words surprised him. “Of course I do. But not before Silvia’s turn.”

Then we just sat there, listening to the announcements over the P.A. Marian got up to make a phone call, which left me alone with Roberto. I thought of asking him about his trip and how things were going in L.A., but it just seemed too trivial, so I told him what had happened at the airport when Silvia and I tried to fly out to see him.

“Marian told me the same thing,” he said. “I’m glad Silvia didn’t have the baby on the plane. So maybe it was very lucky.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I told Roberto how impressed I was with his lie about being Silvia’s husband.

“It’s no lie,” he said, rubbing the corners of his eyes with his thumbs. “Silvia is my lawful wife.”

I was dumbstruck. “But she told me you were just her boyfriend,” I said.

“I made her do that. Our marriage is a secret. My parents don’t approve.”

Roberto told me he still lived with his parents. His visits to Silvia were as much a secret to them as to my grandparents. It was too bad Marian wasn’t there. This Romeo and Juliet business was the kind of thing she ate for breakfast.

“So the baby isn’t. . .”

“No,” Roberto said. “She is legitimate.” He seemed grateful that I hadn’t said it the other way.

“And Silvia’s here legally? I mean in this country?”

“Well, mostly,” he said. “We made her application, as my wife. Her papers are in order. At least they were, before all the trouble. Now, with this, I could lose my own visa.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong!” I said.

“Of course not. But that’s not the point.”

Roberto told me that one of his friends had gotten sent back to Mexico for not having his car inspected in time.

I wanted to tell him how unfair everything was, but I couldn’t think of a good way to say it, so instead I rubbed his back and said, “We’ll work it out.”

He nodded and said, “Sure, sure.”

Marian finally appeared. I could tell she wanted to help cheer Roberto up, but for once she left well enough alone.

F
inally, it was my turn to have a good idea.

I left Roberto in Marian’s hands and called my grandparents. They were staying at the Colonial, a fancy downtown hotel, while their house was being fixed. My grandmother answered the phone, as usual. I asked her to get my grandfather on the line. She said he was “indisposed,” which was code for his being in the bathroom, but I said I’d wait. There was a long, difficult silence.

When my grandfather finally picked up, I told him that Roberto and Silvia were married and that Silvia wasn’t illegal after all. I said I’d be willing to be a family again if my grandfather called his friend the judge—the one who gave them custody of me—and asked him to straighten everything out with the police.

My grandfather agreed to my terms. There was a pause, and I could tell he was about to say something obnoxious. My grandmother sensed it, too. She said, “Eskimo, Herbert.”

It was strange to hear her say that. I had forgotten his name was Herbert.

The judge fixed things in less than an hour. Silvia was moved to a normal room, a completely private one where she could have visitors. I was there when they introduced her to her daughter. The baby almost drowned in Silvia’s snotty tears. The nurses actually had to threaten to take little Chloe away if Silvia didn’t calm down. Roberto was filling up the windowsill with stuffed animals and disappearing every five minutes to buy a new disposable camera.

My grandparents came by that afternoon. My grandfather brought little Chloe a stuffed donkey. My grandmother was on her best behavior, giving Silvia advice about diapers which was about fifty years obsolete. Then she snapped open her purse and pulled out a thick envelope. “This is something for you,” she said, handing it to Silvia.

Silvia opened it up. She started to cry when she saw how much money was inside. She showed it to Roberto, who was shaking his head even before he looked.

“We can’t accept this,” he said. “Really, there’s no need. We’re fine.”

My grandmother took the envelope from him and gave it back to Silvia. “It’s not for you, Roberto. It’s for the baby’s education.”

Silvia still didn’t want to accept it. I wouldn’t have blamed her for holding a grudge against my grandparents, after the way they treated her, but that wasn’t it. Silvia was just embarrassed by the size of the gift. My grandmother had to be sneaky.

“Think of it as back wages,” she said, which did the trick.

I tried not to be a sap when it came time to say goodbye. I told Silvia I thought she was an amazing individual and I wished her good luck in California. I couldn’t think of any words for how I really felt. All that came to mind were clichés. Silvia told me she thought of me as her little sister. She said she’d remember me every time she wrote her daughter’s name. We hugged. She cleaned off my shoulder with some Kleenex. I tickled little Chloe’s nose one last time. Then I said,

“Look at this gorgeous family,” and it was time for me to go.

After the goodbye, I went back to the hotel with my grandparents in their fancy car. The police still had the Dodge.

My grandparents didn’t talk to me. They just let me cry, which I appreciated.

When I was feeling a little better, I asked if we could visit my father’s grave sometime. My grandparents looked at each other. It took a minute for my grandmother to compose herself. She broke out some Wet-Naps from the glove compartment. She passed one back to me, saying, “Of course we can.” She didn’t try to comfort me beyond that. She didn’t have any right to—at least not yet—and she knew it.

We were on the freeway for a long time before I realized we were driving above the river. What a different world at highway speed! The river was invisible. I could barely remember how it smelled. I opened my window, but the car was too full of my grandmother’s perfume. A sign flew by, one of those historical markers. The name of the river was on it, in tiny words I could barely read. The river had an Indian name, with lots of “o”s and “c”s and “q”s. I wanted to know how to pronounce it. It was the kind of thing my grandfather knew, but I didn’t ask him.