Secret Worlds (362 page)

Javier and Chuy talked excitedly about the car as they walked toward the back yard. Naomi smiled. It seemed like things were looking up for all of them. A few weeks ago, Javier had started AA meetings and stopped drinking, placing all his energy into fixing up the Mustang with Chuy. Naomi had a new job as a caseworker for Child Protective Services that started in a couple of weeks. With more money coming in, she might even be able to afford to help Chuy with their grandmother’s mortgage payments.

“Mijita! You’re here. What took you so long?” Naomi’s grandmother rushed down the porch stairs and wrapped a pair of thin brown arms around her.

“Ow, Welita. You’re squishing me,” Naomi said.

Her grandmother—or Welita, as everyone lovingly called her—was tiny but strong. She wore her inky-black hair short, saying it was too hot to have it any other length. Years of hard work, raising her son, and then Chuy, had left her with little time to pamper herself, especially when it came to clothes. If anyone opened her bedroom closet, they would think they had been transported back in time to the seventies. Naomi had tried to convince her grandmother to upgrade from polyester to cotton and even offered to buy her a new wardrobe, but Welita had refused, saying that her clothes were perfectly fine and that someday they would be in fashion again.

“Ay, Dios mío. You’re still driving that thing. I told you you could have my Buick.” Welita marched past her and gave the bike her best evil eye. “Chuy, can you put it for sale on that thing … on the computer?”

“What thing?” Chuy looked confused.

“Cómo se dice?” Welita muttered then snapped her fingers. “I remember. Put it on Ebaze.”

“You mean eBay. Yeah, I can do that.” Chuy glanced at Naomi with an evil grin. “Or maybe I’ll keep it for myself.”

“No way! You’re not putting my bike on eBay.” Naomi slapped his arm. “I love my bike.”

“So much like Stacey,” Javier said.

“What?” Naomi eyed the beer that he carried and wondered if he had slipped. She had never cared for alcohol and hadn’t wanted it at her graduation party, but Chuy had insisted, saying it wouldn’t be a party without it. Naomi had been skeptical, but Chuy had promised to keep an eye on Javier.

“Your mother. You’re as stubborn as she was. Once she set her mind on something, there was no stopping her.” Tears glistened in his eyes, and he swallowed. “She would’ve been so proud of you today.”

“I miss her, too.” Naomi couldn’t count the times that she’d wished her mother was there to share the moment with her. She hadn’t realized how much she looked like her mother until that morning when she’d placed the black graduation cap on her head. She’d looked into the mirror and seen the same image that she had as her cell phone wallpaper. The only difference was that, in the photo, auburn hair spilled out of the cap rather than Naomi’s dark hair.

“She would’ve loved to see you like this. So grown up. If only her family had been able to drive down for the ceremony,” he said.

“I have all the family I need right here with me.” Naomi had never met her mother’s family, except through the annual postcard with a photo of the entire Hamilton clan sitting in front of a large Christmas tree. It wasn’t a secret that the Hamilton family, a well-to-do family from the Dallas area, hadn’t approved of their daughter’s marriage to Javier. They must have conveniently forgotten that if it hadn’t been for Javier’s tutoring skills, their daughter would never have passed her science courses. Naomi figured it must have been her unexpected arrival during Stacey’s senior year of college and the subsequent announcement that Stacey was not going to graduate school that alienated the family from the Durans.

Naomi placed an arm around her father’s waist as they walked into the back yard. When they rounded the corner, trumpets blared, and she jumped back with surprise. “Mariachis? You got me mariachis?”

“It’s Mariachi Cascabel,” Welita said proudly. “They came all the way from Laredo. They’re the best.”

Tears pricked Naomi’s eyes as her grandmother and father beamed with pride. She knew a band like that was really expensive and there was no way they could afford it. It was only a month ago that Lalo’s father, the owner of Cruz Moving Company, had offered to hire Javier part-time to help him manage the business. And the only income Welita had was her Social Security benefits.

“Welita, Dad, this is too much. You shouldn’t—”

“No complaining.” Welita patted Naomi’s hand. “Don’t you worry. It didn’t cost that much. Besides, everyone in the neighborhood chipped in.”

Naomi looked around at the neighbors sitting together, talking, eating, and drinking. Most of them she’d known since she was a little girl—like Lalo’s family, the Cruzes, who sat at one of the picnic tables talking to some of her Los Angeles relatives. The Durans also showed up in full force, traveling from as far as Laredo just to be there. College graduations were rare in her family, and it touched her that they wanted to be there with her to celebrate it. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You say thank you,” Chuy said as he placed the grocery bags on a nearby picnic table.

“I know that.” She kissed Welita and then her father on the cheek. “Thank you so much.”

“Chuy, over here, man. Bring the booze.”

Naomi watched as Lalo squirted lighter fluid into the barbecue pit. He wiped a paper towel over his sweaty forehead and stuffed it into his pockets. Lalo was a big fan of 3X-sized Hawaiian shirts and fajitas. He was a sweet guy and extremely loyal. A person could trust him with anything—except flammable substances.

“You put Lalo in charge of the barbecue? Are you crazy? He’ll burn down the entire neighborhood.” She was about to rush to him when Welita stopped her.

“Wait a moment. I’ve got a present for you,” Welita said.

Chuy shielded his eyes as she stuck a hand into her blouse. “Ugh, Welita. Don’t do that in front of everybody.”

“Ay, Ama! Why do you put stuff in there?” Javier stood in front of her, looking around the yard to see if anyone was watching.

Welita pulled out a folded envelope. “It’s the safest place I know.”

“You’ve got that right,” Chuy said.

“Go help Lalo, pendejo.” Welita swatted him.

“No, Lalo!” Chuy ran to him. “One can is enough!”

“This is for you, Mijita.” Welita placed the white packet in Naomi’s hand.

“I can’t take this. You’ve given me so much all ready.” Naomi attempted to put the envelope back into her grandmother’s pocket.

“No, no. You take it. It’s a gift. You can’t turn away a gift. It would be an insult.”

Welita’s hands were on her hips, and her eyes dared Naomi to defy her. It would be like a slap to her grandmother’s face if she didn’t accept the present. It was a matter of pride that Welita had managed to put together the small amount of cash.

She bent down and kissed her cheek. “Gracias, Welita.” Somehow, Naomi vowed to herself, she was going to return it to her. It was better to do it without Welita knowing about it. She was stubborn that way.

***

As the evening went on, Naomi settled back with Welita and the others, listening to the mariachis. At one point, Welita led everyone in singing the popular ranchero song, “Cielito Lindo.”

“Anita, you’re as good as the singer Lola Beltrán,” said Chela, their next-door neighbor, when Welita finished singing.

Naomi looked at Welita, surprised. She was so used to everyone calling her Welita that she sometimes forgot her given name. She handed her grandmother a bottle of Big Red soda, taking in the twinkling eyes that crinkled when Welita laughed. Her hands, weathered by the wear and tear of decades of hard work, patted Naomi’s knee as she thanked her for the drink.

A couple of hours later, Welita dozed off, and people started to leave the party. Naomi looked around for her father and waved him over when she spotted him talking to Mr. Cruz.

“Is she sleeping?” Javier asked when he neared her. He looked down at his snoring mother and chuckled. “She looks so young when she’s asleep. It’s like she hasn’t changed a bit.”

Naomi stared at her for a moment and caught a glimpse of the young woman Welita had once been; she hoped she would be just like her when she got older.

“Mom.” He nudged her shoulder, attempting to wake her. “Mom. It’s time to go to bed.”

“What? No, it’s a party. I can stay up a little longer,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“It’s almost midnight, Welita. I’m pretty tired myself.” Naomi faked a yawn and got up from her seat. “I’ll clean. You go to bed.”

“I’ll help you.” Welita slid herself to the edge of the seat. “Help me up, Javier.”

Javier set the bottle he was holding on the table and held out an arm. She pressed her weight against him as she pulled herself up.

“Go to bed. I’ll help Naomi,” he said.

Welita turned to her son and patted him on the cheek. “You’re a good boy, and you raised a fine daughter. My college graduates,” she said as she took their hands into hers. “I’m so proud of both of you.”

Naomi glanced over at Chuy, who was still talking with a couple of his friends, as she and her father picked up the discarded cups and plates. Whenever Chuy glanced over at one of the girls, she’d bat her eyes and pretend that she was enraptured by every word that came out of his mouth. He rewarded them by flexing his biceps every time he brought the bottle of beer to his lips, or when he moved around the ice chest, which he was doing a lot.

At one point, Chuy glanced over at Naomi and wiggled his brows when a girl named Rosie brushed against him. She was one of those girls—the type with impressive cleavage that made men drool. Rosie brushed her long wavy hair over her shoulder and gave Chuy one of her signature smiles. Naomi stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag. She wasn’t impressed. Rosie had a reputation for hitting on anything that moved, and she had a couple of babies to prove it. If Welita were awake, she’d probably get her broom and shoo Rosie away.

“Hey, Naomi, come over here,” Chuy called.

“What’s up?” Naomi waved off an offer of beer from Lalo.

“What’s wrong with your cousin, man? She too good to drink with us?” Mateo, one of Chuy’s friends, asked.

“I’m right here, Mateo,” Naomi said, placing her hands on her hips. “And to answer your question, I came on my bike, so unless I want to stay on the couch for the night with Chuy’s snoring shaking the entire house, no booze for me.”

“I don’t snore.
You
snore,” Chuy said.

“Uh, huh. Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Chuy, rub it already,” Lalo said. “If we leave now, we can get in a couple of hours at the craps table and be back before our afternoon gig.”

“Rub what? And where are you going out this late? Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Naomi swatted Chuy’s hands as he brushed her hair off her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to the Lake Charles Casino in Louisiana,” he said as he attempted to fold down the back of her shirt collar. “Come on, Naomi. Let me rub it for good luck.”

Naomi hit his hands again. “Knock it off, Chuy. My freakish birth defects are not meant for your entertainment.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if I win.”

“No.”

“Aww, come on.”

“It’s just a patch of freckles, Chuy.”

“They’re good luck.”

“Are you talking about her freckles?” Javier called out as he walked past them, dragging a couple of filled trash bags. “They’re good luck,” he said before disappearing into the front yard.

“Dad,” she groaned.

“See? Even your dad thinks they’re good luck,” Chuy said.

“I’ve got to see this thing.” Mateo took a step toward Naomi.

Chuy got in front him and placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at bay. “No can do, man. It’s a family thing.”

“Seriously, Chuy, you’re getting as superstitious as Welita. Just because my freckles form the number seven, it doesn’t mean they’re lucky. If they were, do you think I’d let Welita live in this neighborhood … with you?” It was a weird-shaped mark on the back of her neck. She hadn’t noticed it growing up until one day, when she and Chuy had gone swimming. He had snuck up behind her and was about to push her into the pool when he noticed the odd-shaped mark. Welita had told them that Naomi was born with it and that she was meant for something special. Chuy took it to mean that the mark was a good luck charm.

“It is lucky. Last week after I massaged your neck, I bought a lotto ticket, and I won fifty bucks.”

She fumed. “I thought you were trying to be nice because I was so stressed during finals week!”

Chuy tried to touch her neck again, and she slapped his hands. “Stop it! I’m not some genie in a bottle.”

“What if I let you into my self-defense class?”

Chuy volunteered to teach self-defense classes at the local community center. She’d been asking him for weeks to let her join. Living in Houston, especially in this neighborhood, self-defense was something every woman needed to know.

Naomi sighed. “Fine.” She lifted her hair and tugged down the collar of her shirt. “Hurry and get it over with.”

Chuy gave it a quick rub. “There, that wasn’t so bad was it?”

“Ugh, go away. And take your friends with you.” She pushed him playfully and went to look for her father.

Naomi tossed the last garbage bag into the trash can and sat across from her father on the front porch steps. He was playing with a red coin, his one-month sobriety token, flipping it through his fingers. She leaned against the rail, gazing at the stars in the cloudless sky. They sat in comfortable silence, neither wanting to disturb the rare peaceful quiet of the night. The sound of gunshots and sirens blaring in the distance were common. Even though Naomi lived only a few miles away, she worried about her grandmother and Chuy living in such a dangerous neighborhood.

“Did you have a good time, Mijita?” Javier asked.

“I loved it, Dad.” Naomi glanced down at the brown bottle he held.

“It’s root beer,” he said, reading the expression on her face. “I know you’re worried that I’ll start drinking again. You have my word that I won’t.”

“Do you keep in contact with your sponsor?”

“Every day.”