Someone Like Summer (6 page)

M
ITZI
G
RANEY STOPPED
in at the library to check out
Tender Is the Night
. Seniors at Seaview High had F. Scott Fitzgerald on their summer reading list—any book of his. I'd chosen
The Crackup
, which was almost like a journal, a dark and depressing one, I thought. Kenyon said I was just too untouched by life so far to appreciate it.

“I already read some of
Tender
,” Mitzi said. “It's so old-fashioned. This character has his shorts in a twist over whether or not some babe's
a virgin. Speaking of which, you could have lost your V and be pregnant, for all I really know about you anymore. Claire said when she visited you, she got stuck with Trip because you were never around.”

“Claire always had the hots for Trip anyway.”

“But where've you been? Your cell phone isn't even connected. I still haven't got my Mac fixed or I'd have e-mailed you. What's going on?”

“I'm helping my brother get settled at Dr. Annan's.”

“That's not what I hear. Virgil says you're seeing Esteban Santiago.”

“I was going to tell you. Dad's so against it. He took my cell phone away. I didn't want word to get around town before I tell Dad myself.”

“Oh, that'll be a pretty scene. Did this start the night we went to Jungle Pete's?”

“I saw Esteban before that, playing soccer in the fields behind the school. Now I see him whenever we can manage it. I've been telling Dad I'm with
you
Monday nights. It's Dad's poker night, so it's not likely he'd want to reach me. Do
you mind that I did that?”

“Of course not. But be careful, Annabel.”

“Careful about what?”

“Dating one of them from Ridge Road isn't as easy as you think.”

“You sound just like my dad, saying ‘one of them.'”

Mitzi said, “They're different, Annabel. At least the ones in
that
house are. By the time you learn that, it's too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you heard about Ramón? He got Esteban and Virgil to leave Holy Family for the Casa.”

“Esteban said Ramón is spiritual, deep.”

“Deep!” Mitzi spat out. “He's not deep. He's trouble! Call me when we can really talk. Can we make a date now?”

“I was just going to ask her that myself,” Esteban's voice said suddenly, and there he stood at the checkout desk, grinning at us.

He said, “Someone took our paella book, Anna.”

It was a sunny July Monday, so it was quiet in the library. A lot of people were at the beach or on the tennis courts and golf courses. Monday nights Esteban and I saw each other for sure. Other times we fit each other in, depending on where Dad went and what jobs Esteban was on. Whenever he could, Esteban came to the beach where I took my lunch every day.

Even though Mitzi had met him when we were at Jungle Pete's, I introduced her to him, glad that for once he was taller than the girl. Mitzi was five-foot-two, dark Irish, with green eyes. At Seaview High we were part of the Vestal Virgins, a group that was getting smaller and smaller every year. We'd named ourselves that in fun. The fast crowd called us The Pesty Virgins.

Esteban put on the charm, laughing down into her eyes, that funny one tooth of his sticking out. “Hello, Señorita Graney.”

Mitzi flashed him a smile and touched my arm. “Call me. Please, Annabel? I miss you so!”

“I will. I promise.”

“I will see that she does,” said Esteban.

“My good friend,” I told Esteban as she left.

“Virgil's
gringuita
.”

“Is that what you call me, too? A
gringuita
?”

“If that's all right with you.”

“I'm never sure if
gringa
is a good thing to be called.”

“I'm never sure if Latino is.” Esteban chuckled. Then he leaned on the front desk and told me, “
Te quiero
. Can I say that to you in here?” He looked around, then looked back at me with those serious brown eyes.

“Me, too.
Estoy enamorada
.”

“Lovely,
mi dulce
. Your Spanish is good!”

“It'll be even better after I start the SSL course in September.”

“I'm glad you're going to do that. It is better to make love with you in my language. It is made for love.”

I could feel my cheeks get hot and I knew they were red. He could always do that to me. “When will we meet tonight?”

Then he seemed to be stalling, to want to say something he couldn't. I waited him out until he
had to speak. “I planned I'd have tonight off, but now it seems I don't.” He looked so guilty. Our plans had changed before when we had to cancel things, but I hadn't seen that look on his face. His eyes couldn't meet mine.

“What do you have to do tonight? Dad is going to Larkin's after his poker game. Kenyon has moved out. We would have the place to ourselves.”

“I don't take the chance to be at your house, Anna. You know that. I feel I am going to be beat up any minute. Your father will crash through the door and punch me hard.”

“Then we'll go someplace else,” I told Esteban. There wasn't anyplace else that private, but we often went down to Main Beach at night with his boom box and a blanket.

“Not tonight. I'm sorry. There is a special man coming to La Casa tonight.”

“The church? You're going to church instead of keeping our date? You were just in church yesterday!”

Esteban said, “This man coming to our
church is the Latino Billy Graham. You know the name Billy Graham?”

“The preacher.”

“Yes. This man is like him but for us. There is little opportunity to hear this man, they say. I would ask you to come too, but I do not think he would have an interpreter.”

“Are you going with your sister?”

“She has dinner to get for everyone. I made no plans to go with anyone, Anna. Ramón and Virgil may go. I believe it is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to hear a great Latino preacher.”

“I want to come with you, E.E.”

“You know, I like to be E. E. Santiago. Estrella is the birth name of
mi madre
. E is lucky for me. She gave me my Santa Cecilia medal.”

“Did you hear me say I'd like to go to church with you?”

“I heard you, Anna. I heard you.”

“Well?”

“What for, Anna? His message will not be for you.”

“It doesn't matter. I'll see what the Casa is like.”

“Come if you want to so badly,” said Esteban.

I didn't believe there was a heaven, but if there was one, my mother would be looking down and grinning. Anything to get me to church—any church.

“I do want to come. I want to know everything about you, even if it involves going to church.”

“I have the God you don't believe in to thank for getting you to my church,” said Esteban, smiling, touching me playfully under the chin.

“What is this preacher's name?”

“Antolin. He goes by one name only.”

“Like Larkin.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Are you serious about this? Antolin is not in the same sentence with Larkin.”

“I'm sorry, Esteban. I shouldn't kid around.”

“No, you should not.”

“I am really sorry.” I was. Why couldn't I just accept the fact that Esteban was religious? I wondered if it threatened me in some way, if it divided us.

Esteban said, “Be careful,
cariña
. Antolin may cast a spell on you. They say he is very, very dynamite.”

“Would you like it if I was religious?”

“What is anything without God?” Esteban said.

“I can't believe in a God. I wish I could, but I'm an atheist.”

“No one is an atheist, Anna. That means you declare flatly there is no God. You mean to say that you are an agnostic. That means you just don't know.”

“I'm with the ones who declare flatly,” I said. “Who taught you the difference between the two?”

“I learned most of my English in school, at home. But here I took ESL at the high school on Tuesday nights.”

“Why, Esteban?”

“Why did I take more? The better you speak, the easier it becomes to get good jobs. A man who was in our house is now boss of a construction crew. He can be boss of all the ones who
work with him because he is able to speak for them. They don't understand what the
gringos
say they want done.”

“May I really go with you tonight? Is it okay?”

Esteban sighed, shrugged. “All right! I wanted to give you a
pañuelo
, anyway. Now you will need it to go with me.”

“A bandanna like the one you wore when you first came to my house?”

“Yes, I got you one not even knowing you were coming to the Casa. I just wanted you to have one.”

“Another present, E. E.?” I'd never given him a gift, because I was afraid he'd feel he had to reciprocate. “Thank you, Esteban, but I hope you're not spending all your money on me.”

“Only what little is mine to spend. I send the most to my family, but I like to give things to you. Then you always have something I picked out. Tonight, wear the
pañuelo
like a scarf, a belt. Tie it on your wrist or ankle. Yellow, blue, red: the colors of our Colombian flag. We all wear our colors, but in church we are
una gente
. One people.”

“Why don't I wear the American flag?”

“Because at the Casa we wear the colors of our homelands, and you are my guest. You will see plenty of red, white, and blue. It will be the three colors you will see the most of, but in
our
flags. Virgil would be a big exception, because he would wear green, white, and red. For Mexico.”

Since we weren't busy in the library, I told Miss Chidister I was taking a small break. I knew she was wise to what was going on with Esteban and me. When I'd asked her if she would suggest Spanish classes to the programmer, she said she was sure I could wait until fall when the high school taught SSL evenings. “He's not going anywhere, is he?” she said.

“Who are you talking about?” I tried to play dumb, but she winked at me and shook her head, as though she was in on our secret.

Esteban and I went out the back door and sat on the bench where the employees who still smoked sat. Esteban was in bib overalls, the high kind he didn't wear a shirt under, just his skin and his religious medal. I'd noticed Miss
Chidister giving him a look. We didn't have a dress code in the library. Customers came in shorts all the time. There was just something slightly naked-looking about Esteban and his brown skin, shoulders, arms; you could see his nipples.

“Does Mitzi ever go to the Casa?” I asked him. I'd know the answer to that myself if I'd ever hang out with her again. Free time wasn't anything I knew about since Esteban.

“No, no Mitzi. Virgil and Ramón don't bring guests.”

“What made you three leave Holy Family? The music at the Casa? I hear it sometimes when I'm driving to the IGA Sundays.”

I knew I was trying to keep him with me, stalling, asking questions, anything.

“I like the music at Casa Pentecostal. I do. Very much. But that is not the reason. At Catholic church it is the same thing over and over. A sermon that has nothing to do with us, then recitations, some even in Latin.”

“Still? I thought they stopped that.”

“Not in all churches. Has there ever been a Hispanic pope? There are not even many priests here who can speak our language. Even though I speak English, things I say in confession have no discussion. They say how many Hail Marys to recite for penance and tell me to go.”

“Is it different in Providencia?”

“Catholic churches are often the same everywhere. But here we are needy in a new way, in a country we don't know. A nun came to our door once where we all live. Chino was very sick, and we thought she had come to help him because we tried to get a nurse nun to visit him. This nun knew nothing about Chino. She had come to collect for the new convent. The one they built overlooking the ocean. You know how much that cost? Millions of dollars, and they go from house to house of poor people who have trouble even paying the rent.”

“It isn't fair, I know.”

“What is, Anna?” Then he stood up. “I see there is a notice about computer lessons. Find out when they give them, would you please,
Anna? I need to learn what everyone seems to know. I will never get anywhere if I do not become modern.”

“If you get a computer, we can e-mail each other.”

“Ramón has one I can always use. I just have to learn how. I feel dumb not knowing how. And I am not dumb, Anna!”

“I know you're not. And I'll help you.”

“They say never let your girlfriend teach you how to drive, so maybe it is the same with computers. Besides, I do not want you to see I know nothing about the internet. You and your friends know so much. I want to learn, Anna.”

“I'll find out when the classes are.”

“Thank you. I have work to finish and I am already too long away. Can you meet me in front of the Casa? Six o'clock? I must go home and change first, also get you your
pañuelo
. How will you get there?”

“Kenyon will drive me.”

“I hope you will not feel disappointment,” Esteban said.

I said, “I won't. I'll be with you.”

I think that was all I cared about that summer. The war in Iraq seemed to have nothing to do with me. I'd hear my father arguing about it with Larkin. He was for it and she was very definitely against it. I was in some kind of limbo, incapable of any opinion that didn't have to do with Esteban Santiago.