Just a full week of working the stand together and we’ve got this thing down.
Wendy flips off the light after another long workday. I hold the awning frame up for her to get outside. She walks past and waits for me to put the locks on.
I give her my arm, gentleman style.
“Why, thank you,” she says, wrapping her arm in mine.
As we walk, I can’t help thinking it’s only three weeks till I go home to SeaTac for senior year. And Wendy goes back to Vancouver for senior year. I already know I’m gonna miss everything about this. That chile smell floating off the roaster. Talking to customers. The sound of Coke bottles clinking against each other as I stock the fridge. The satisfaction of snapping the awning into place with Wendy, those end-of-the-night high fives.
I’m not ready for this night to end, so I sit down on the porch and ask her to join me. “I need you to say hi to someone.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see.” I dial and click to speaker.
Caleb picks up. He’s talking fast. “Guess where I had dinner last night.”
“Where?”
“Your parents have been seeing so much of me, they decided to invite me for dinner. Your mom made these crazy green pepper cheeseburgers.”
“Seriously, Caleb?”
“Your parents are doing great and those peppers were amazing and they invited my whole family over next Friday. But there’s a problem. They’re out of the peppers, so you gotta get some sent up here, stat.”
I tell him I’m on it. Then I say, “Caleb Ta’amu, you are on speaker. And I’m sitting here with a nice lady who would like to say hi.”
Wendy says, “Hey, Caleb.”
Caleb says, “Hi, Barbara.”
“Barbara?” she says.
“I kid, I kid!” he says. “There are no Barbaras. Or other names of people who are attractive young women. Like Janice, for instance. Or Wanda.”
“You sure?” she says.
“I’m pretty sure that there’s only one name my boy ever mentions.”
She asks him what name that might be.
Caleb asks to verify that he is, indeed, speaking with Wendy Martinez.
“Yes, Caleb.”
“He only talks about you, Wendy.”
“All right. Enough with the chitchat,” Wendy says. “What’s the dirt on this guy?”
Caleb doesn’t spill any dirt. And pretty soon they’re talking about how best to throw a surprise birthday for Caleb’s sister and then all kinds of details about setting up a chile stand. That’s pretty much it. They just chat. Just two people talking about what’s going on.
Wendy hangs up and says, “He’s a great guy, Teodoro.”
I tell her it’s cool to hear them talking.
Wendy starts dialing.
I ask her who she’s calling and she says she needs me to know someone.
“Hey, Teodoro,” Megan says. “I’m Wendy’s piccolo-playing best bud.” She says it’s great to finally talk even though she’s pissed at me for taking Wendy away for the summer.
In this conversation, I learn that Wendy and Megan met in band in seventh grade and ever since then they’ve been homework buddies. Wendy’s the math and science superwoman and Megan is all about the writing and humanities. She says they’re the academic Wonder Twins. She talks about playing team sports at Skyview High with Wendy. She says they’re not in it for the competition. More for the conversation. And the costumes. Like superheroes and wild animals because they don’t always get a uniform. They see it as their duty to inspire their team while using dramatic absurdity to fluster their opponents. Playing time is not high on their list of athletic priorities.
Wendy tells her we have to go, and Megan says, “One thing, Teodoro. Wendy is extraordinary. So watch your step. Because if you hurt her, I swear I will come after you. And I will mess you up. And I can easily do that because I am a kendo practitioner. Just moved up to fourth dan, Teodoro, so … yeah…”
“Okay, I do not know what that means, but congrats, Megan! And I promise you, I will be a nice person.”
We say our good-byes, and I turn to Wendy. “She’s hilarious. And she’s got your back.”
“I love that girl,” she says.
“Wendy, whenever you mentioned practice, I always pictured you blowing into a tuba. I had no idea you were a jock.”
She tries to hide a smile and says, “I’m not one of those braggy athletes, Teodoro. I prefer to let my work on the court speak for itself.”
I bust out laughing.
Wendy does, too.
When the laughing stops, we’re looking out at the farm, over Valley Drive, up those craggy mountains and the biggest, starriest sky I have ever seen.
I bet that someday, when someone says the words New Mexico, this will be the image in my mind. This night. This sky. And Wendy.
She turns back and catches me looking at her. Her eyes are, like, shining and she says, “This place is really growing on me, Teodoro.”
“Me, too, Wendy.”
* * *
Late night. I get out of bed and go downstairs to get a snack.
There’s a light coming from Ed’s office. I sneak down the hall. It has to be Xochitl.
I’m not gonna tell her I know anything. I want to give her a chance to come out with it.
There’s no music. I knock. She’s surfing the web. I tell her I couldn’t sleep. Then I say, “Hey, what’re you doing after summer?”
“You know I’m staying here,” she says. “I’m not leaving Manny till he’s good.”
“How will you know when he’s good?”
“I don’t know, T.”
I tell her it sucks I gotta go back. Otherwise, I could stay with Manny.
Xochitl tells me not to worry and she’s got things covered down here. “Plus,” she says, “you have senior year. And U-Dub. You’re working hard and you’re going to be a big success.”
“Okay,” I say, “here’s the truth: Sometimes I feel like I’m a really bad actor playing the role of someone who’s good enough to succeed. What if I’m not good enough?”
“I think everyone who tries feels that way sometimes.”
“Do you? When you think about becoming a big star?”
She laughs.
“You know you think about it,” I say. “Your name in lights and all that.”
“Yeah, I get scared sometimes. I feel like an impostor sometimes.”
“Is that why you quit so many bands?”
“Nah. I quit bands because I was trying to find the right thing.”
“I get that,” I say. “But maybe the right thing is you, Xochitl.”
She scrunches her face and looks at me sideways. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s true. And because I think you need to hear it.”