The group guys show up for our grand opening. Doc Fuentes, too. Folks from Luci’s office. Her friend who’ll be stocking the salsas. A couple high school kids—relatives of Hector’s who’ve been working the harvest with Manny and Xochitl. They all come out to celebrate.
Wendy’s sign is huge. It says LOPEZ FARMS CHILE SHACK. Red letters on a yellow background. Tío Ed loves it. Luci can’t stop talking about how bright the stand is inside—she loves the white paint—and she loves how much we opened the space up. She takes a designers’ photo of me and Wendy standing out front.
Fwoooot! A flame kicks to life as Tío Ed fires up the roaster. He opens the door to the big wire drum and says, “Just one box of chile. Any more and they won’t roast even. People will be home peeling bits of skin off chile with tweezers and cursing our name.”
Wendy flips the switch and the drum creaks and tumbles slow and steady. There’s a hissing sound as hot air forces moisture out of the chile. There’s crackling and popping. Sparks float into the sky. The smell of burning chile skin takes over the night. “That’s the smell we’ve been missing,” Tío Ed says. “But don’t breathe it in or you’ll be coughing all night.”
Wendy and I roast and box chile till we have enough to send home with everyone. We get a lot of compliments and people are all smiles as they take off. Tío Ed and Luci give us thank-yous and hugs and head back to the house. Manny and Xochitl say they wish Mami and Papi could have been here to see this. “They woulda been proud of you,” Xochitl says.
The way she says it hits me hard.
Wendy and I stay back and box fresh chile to sell for our first real day of business tomorrow. We talk through the routine. Make sure we got everything where it belongs. Finally, we drop the awnings and we’re standing real close as we lock up. Our eyes meet. We exchange tired smiles and a high five and take a silent walk to the house.
Wendy stops at the door. “Teodoro, there’s something I have to say to you.”
“Yeah, Wendy?”
She stares at her shoes for a second. Looks up at the sky. Then in my eyes. “It’s just that, Teodoro … um … We did that. We did that.”
I got so much more, but I just say, “Yup, Wendy, we did that.”
One more high five. Then she goes up to her room. And I go to mine.
* * *
Can’t sleep. I’m thinking about Xochitl. I have to talk to Manny. I wanna know if he thinks he’d be okay down here without her.
But if he doesn’t already know about the tour, and if he doesn’t feel like he’d be okay without her, I can’t tell him about the tour. If I did tell him, he’d feel rotten that Xochitl’s giving up the chance of a lifetime to stay behind with him. And Xochitl would never forgive me.
So I just ask him if he knows how long she’s staying down here.
Manny says she’s staying past the summer. “I was going to tell her I was doing better and she should get back home and get back in art school. Get singing again.”
“She has to get singing again,” I say.
“I know,” Manny says. “I want to tell her I’m fine. And I have enough support down here. But I’m not out of the woods. Not by a long shot. And there’s something different about having Xochitl and you down here with me … something I still need. I feel so guilty I’m keeping her here, T.”
I tell him not to feel guilty.
He says he wishes it were that easy.