I ace an algebra quiz and get a decent grade on a draft of a paper on the The Crucible, so I tell Caleb I’m taking a night off. I’m headed home right after school.
Every night for a couple weeks, after we study together, I been staying for dinner at Caleb’s. Then we study more and I don’t come home till real late.
See, I started going downhill grades-wise a little since Manny got home. And after the conference, he quit leaving the house. There’s a lot of him watching loud TV and drinking and the clicking weirdness. And Xochitl bugging him about his job search and sometimes they really get into it. So it’s hard to study. I got a couple Cs on chemistry quizzes. Not the end of the world, but I’m not a C student anymore, so …
Staying away from the rental worked.
And today I’m back early to check things out. If it seems like Manny’s doing okay, I’ll ask him if wants to take a walk or something.
I step inside and I can hear Xochitl in his room.
The door is open a crack, so I sneak to a spot where I can look in.
Manny’s smoking pot and Xochitl’s on his case about it. She and weed are not strangers, so I don’t know where she gets off.
You are an amazing person. But you’re using drugs and alcohol as a substitute for …
She goes on and on with a bunch of intervention BS as Manny closes his eyes and does a Zen toke-out. Slow drags. Holds his breath forever. Even slower exhales.
Xochitl throws empty beer cans and yells at him, saying she’s going crazy watching him do this to himself.
She just about knocks me over, storming out of Manny’s room. “You still live here?”
“You all right, Xoch?”
She glares. I immediately regret asking.
“This isn’t good, T. He’s getting worse.”
I don’t know what to say.
“We need you here,” she says.
I don’t want to be in this conversation.
“I need you here,” she says.
I nod my head yes to end it. “Okay.”
“Seriously?” she says.
“Yeah, Xoch. I’ll be here more.”
She lunges at me. Hugs me. “That’s great, T. Another set of hands, you know? Another pair of eyes. That’s all.”
Papi walks in from his job search and Mami gets home from work. They barely manage to say hi to each other. Since Manny started isolating himself, they’re as cold as ever.
Manny manages to join us at the table. It’s a nervous, quiet dinner, uncomfortable as ever.
I try to do subtle stuff to get Manny’s attention. Try to make eye contact when I pass him a dish. A silly elbow poke in the ribs. He doesn’t bite.
At some point, Xochitl starts in. She says she’s going to drag us all to this support group for families of vets. She says we need to talk. Manny needs to talk. Mami and Papi need to talk. She begs them to get counseling again. Begs Manny to get out of the house. To AA. To the VA. To the VFW. To the YMCA!
Finally, Manny elbows me back, real subtle. He’s looking down at his lap, so I look down. He’s got his napkin wrapped over his hand like a puppet. He opens and closes the napkin mouth, synced to Xochitl’s voice as she goes on and on with her lecture.
I look up at Manny’s face.
He winks at me.
I roll my eyes.
He rolls his.
That’s the Manny I used to know. That’s my brother.
Xochitl doesn’t stop talking, so after stuffing his face fast, Manny silently leaves the table. Soon there’s Metallica, smoke, and smell coming from his room.
Xochitl hops up and bangs on the door.
“Give it a rest,” I say. “You’re making it worse.”
The volume gets turned way up on the TV.
Xochitl shoots me a death stare and bangs more. Then she wheels around to Mami and Papi. “Are you gonna let him do this?”
Mami takes the same tone with Papi. “Daniel?”
Papi shrugs his shoulders. “No sé que decir, Rosi.”
“You knew what to say when he told us he was leaving. You knew then!” And she keeps going like she’s been saving up words since the day he gave Manny his blessing.
Since the day she started blaming Papi.
He pushes himself from the table. Tosses his napkin and heads into Manny’s room.
The TV and music get turned down. We can hear Papi’s voice. Just a few words.
Maybe Manny says something. It’s hard to tell.
The volume jacks back up. The stereo blasts.
Papi comes out holding one of Manny’s beers. He closes the door.
All eyes on him.
He’s thinking real hard. He closes his eyes. Takes a sip from the can.
Finally, he speaks. “Necesitamos paz,” he says.
We need peace? That is it? Come on, Papi!
He waits for a response from my mom and Xochitl.
Doesn’t get one.
So he leaves the room.
Mami goes to the kitchen and scrubs a pan like she wants to put a hole in it.
Xochitl goes to her room. Slams the door.
I head for Caleb’s. My phone buzzes on the way.
Thu Mar 26 7:22 P.M.
Wendy: With my bud Megan working on
an app idea.
T: App?
Wendy: A program for an iPhone. Short
for application.
T: Fancy! Tell me about it.
Wendy: Our app measures heart rates/
body temps in teens and parents.
Wendy: It takes into account external
stressors of all parties, as well
as barometric pressure.
Wendy: Analysis of conditions indicates
whether parents and their teen
may attempt face-to-face
conversation.
T: Any particular reason you
decided to work on this app?
Wendy: My mom is a total nightmare right now.
T: Why?
Wendy: Oh, the me growing up thing. The
me being an independent
human being thing. She can’t
handle that I have my own ideas
re. my own life and my own future.
So she’s on my case 24/7. It’s
madness.
T: Will the app work on siblings?
Wendy: Wish I had some right about now.
T: Be careful what you wish for.
Wendy: Wish I had a house full of family.
T: Sounds better than it is. Believe me.
I’d trade spots with you right now.
Wendy: Pretty lame thing to say, Teodoro
T: Messed up drama taking place
Wendy: Still. U don’t know what it’s like
being one kid/one parent
Wendy: Stuff gets crappy and there’s no
one else.
T: Talk later?
Wendy: Maybe
T: When?
Wendy: Not sure. I’ll text u
What the hell just happened?