Papi stayed home from work the rest of the week. “You need some help,” Gracie told him on the first day. “I’ll stay home too.”
“Absolutely not,” Papi said. “We’ll be fine. Go to school.”
“But — ”
“No buts! Go.”
Gracie huffed all the way back to our room.
“Do you have a test or something today?” I asked.
“No,” Gracie said. She slipped on her uniform skirt. “Why?”
“I’m just wondering why you don’t want to go to school.”
“Because Papi obviously needs us!”
“Abuelita said she’d come over later. Besides, Mami will worry if we don’t go to school, so the best thing we can do for her is go.”
Gracie finished dressing and picked up her backpack. “You just say that because you’re a nerd and you love school,” she said.
I looked at Gracie for a few seconds, then I got up and went to the bathroom. I didn’t want to argue with her anymore.
***
Tío Lalo was in our living room when I got home that afternoon. Abuelita must have told him to clean himself up before coming over. He looked like a wet puppy with his hair slicked back and his big sad eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tavito,” he said to Papi. “I promise I will never, ever, ever drink again.”
Papi snorted. “Just don’t drive when you drink, okay?”
Tío Lalo nodded like a bobblehead doll.
Papi handed him a business card. “This is the best criminal lawyer I know,” he said. “She’s usually very expensive, but she’ll help you for free as a favor to Mecho and me.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” Tío Lalo said. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
Papi opened the apartment door. “I need to give Mecho her medicine now.”
“Oh . . . can I see her? I want to apologize.”
“No, she doesn’t want to see you right now.” Papi opened the door a little wider.
“Oh.” Tío Lalo gulped. His Adam’s apple moved up and back down. He turned back to Papi like he just had a great idea. “Can I say hello to Rosita? I can cheer her up. You know I always make her laugh!”
“Laughing isn’t a good idea right now. With her broken ribs, that just causes more pain.”
Tío Lalo looked at me. I shrugged. “Okay, well, I’ll see all of you later, then,” Tío Lalo said. “Give my love to Mecho and the rest of the girls.” He waved the business card in his hand. “And thanks again.”
“Is that Claudia’s mom’s card?” I asked Papi after he closed the door behind Tío Lalo.
“Yes.”
“Did Mami really say she doesn’t want to see Tío Lalo?”
“She did.” Papi walked into the kitchen.
I followed him. “Wow, does Abuelita know?”
Papi took two glasses out of the cupboard. He chuckled. “She does. Could you take the orange juice out, please? Your mother is so mad at Lalo she practically hisses if anyone mentions his name.” Papi poured juice into the glasses and handed me a bottle of pills, a bottle of liquid medicine, and a spoon. “Here, take these back to our room.” He picked up the two glasses of orange juice and walked behind me. “I think your grandmother is afraid of her now.”
Rosie and Connie were in bed with Mami. Papi handed one glass to Mami and one to Rosie. He gave Mami her pills and fed a spoonful of medicine to Rosie. “Okay, Rosalba, it’s three o’clock now,” Papi said. “You know what that means.”
“Do I have to?” Rosie said.
“Yes, you do.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“I know, but remember what the doctor said, right?” Papi took Rosie’s hand and squeezed it. “If you don’t take a deep breath once an hour, you might get pneumonia or a collapsed lung.”
“But it hurts!”
“Come on, mamita,” Mami said. “It’s for your own good.”
Rosie sat up and gulped in a mouthful of air. She closed her eyes and whimpered while she breathed out. Connie buried her face in Mami’s chest and cried. I blinked hard and turned my head away.
“Good girl,” Papi said.
Mami smoothed down Rosie’s hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?”
Rosie pouted. “Can you play something for me, Anamay?”
Papi carried Rosie into the living room and settled her onto the couch. I played the piano until she fell asleep. Then I went to ask Papi for a favor. “Could you order this for me?” I showed him a picture of a harmonica on the computer. “I’ll use my birthday money from Tía Nona.”
“Sure,” Papi said, “but I didn’t know you were interested in the harmonica.”
“It’s not for me. I want to send it to Clarisa, so she can have her own musical instrument.”
Papi smiled. “That’s a great idea.” The price of the harmonica and the cost of shipping added up to about half of my birthday money. The rest went into my college fund, as always. Sending the harmonica to Clarisa was my birthday present to myself. I hoped she liked it too.