You land a job yet, muchacho?” Sal Ruiz asked his son, Abel. Abel Ruiz was a sixteen-year-old junior at Cesar Chavez High School, and he’d been searching for part-time work for more than a month. Every afternoon after classes, he walked around the barrio looking for “Help Wanted” signs. Nobody seemed to be hiring.
“Not yet, Dad,” Abel answered wearily, dropping his books on the kitchen table and unburdening himself of his backpack. He let the backpack drop to the floor with a thud.
“How come?” his dad asked. Sal Ruiz did hard, backbreaking work for a gardening company owned by his wife’s cousin. He dug planting holes for trees and trimmed shrubs. He carried cement for making patios and built block walls. Nothing was too hard for him to handle. He began working when he was thirteen, and he was almost forty. The work had grown harder, but his body had grown weaker.
“I don’t know, Dad,” Abel responded. “I’ve been to lots of places, but they don’t need anybody.”
“Maybe you’re too particular, muchacho,” Dad suggested.
The family consisted of Abel, his older brother, Tomás, and thirteen-year-old Penelope, whom everybody called “Penny.” Liza Ruiz, Abel’s mother, didn’t work outside the home. But she made beautiful scarves and sold them through high-end boutiques, making good money. But the family had a big mortgage on the house and college expenses for Tomás. They needed all the money everybody could bring in. Tomás was the shining light of the family, having earned straight As at Chavez High and now studying engineering at UCLA. Abel was clinging to a B minus at Chavez.
“I’d do any kind of work as long as it’s legal,” Abel told his dad. He was a skinny kid with a bad complexion. He had just one good friend at school, Ernesto Sandoval, who had just moved into town from LA. Ernesto was a great friend, probably the best friend Abel ever had. He was the son of the school’s history teacher, Luis Sandoval.
“Have you tried the donut shop?” Liza Ruiz asked, coming into the kitchen with one of her scarves in her hands. “That one on Tremayne is always hiring.”
Liza Ruiz was smarter than her husband, and she knew it. She wasn’t a cruel person, but she demeaned her husband sometimes. He had dropped out of high school before he graduated, and he’d never had a really good job. He was a jack-of-all-trades and master of none, as the saying went. If Liza’s cousin had not given him a job with his landscaping firm, the family would be in dire straits.
“No, I didn’t try there,” Abel admitted. He glanced at his mother. She was small and trim, younger looking than a mother of three.
Abel believed that his mother thought her smart son, Tomás, took after her, and Abel was more like his father. When Liza was in school, she was an excellent student and very popular with the boys because of her beauty. Tomás was bright and handsome, and he always had plenty of friends too. Like his father, Abel was plain looking and not very smart, and he didn’t have many friends. He counted himself really lucky when Ernesto Sandoval became his friend because a lot of kids liked Ernesto.
Once, when Abel’s mother was in a very bitter mood, she said to him, “God took pity on me and sent me a son who shines like the stars before sending me my second son.” She didn’t even know Abel heard that comment. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he did hear it and it stung. The remark remained in his heart like a scar all these years.
Sal Ruiz did not expect much of Abel either, because he expected little of himself. He only wanted Abel to be willing to work and not to be lazy. Mr. Ruiz did not think Abel would amount to much, just as he had never amounted to much. But if Abel worked hard, as his father did, and was honest, he could make his way in the world. A man could not expect more than that. Mr. Ruiz was at peace with the way the world was set up. When Abel was about ten, he explained his view of life to the boy.
“You see this photograph of a pyramid, mi hijo?” he asked. “Do you see how little room there is at the top? This is where the smart and rich are. Now look at the great space at the bottom. That is for the rest of us. There are many more of us than there are of them. But that’s all right. We survive.”
At times, Abel was not satisfied with the image of the pyramid and what it signified. He wanted more. He was willing to struggle for more. Even at school he studied much harder than most kids. His teachers called him an overachiever.
And now Abel really wanted a job. His friend, Ernesto, worked at the pizzeria, and he saved enough money to buy a car. It was a used car. Worse, it was a horrible Volvo once owned by an old lady, who was now in a nursing home. But at least Ernesto had wheels. Abel wanted a car too, even if it was an old junker. Mom managed the finances in the Ruiz house, and she was very frugal. She insisted that Dad hand over his paycheck every two weeks, and she paid the mortgage and the utilities. She gave Dad a little spending money, just as she gave Abel money for lunches and maybe a pair of socks. No way would she give Abel money for a car.
Ernesto had a beautiful girlfriend, Naomi Martinez, and they’d go driving in the Volvo. Ernesto took Naomi to the movies and to concerts. Abel didn’t have a girlfriend, but he hoped to have one eventually. Abel thought that, if he found a girl who was hard up enough to go out with him, he couldn’t expect her to ride the bus to the movies with him. He’d have to provide her with a ride. Abel was straining at the bit. He needed money. He needed freedom. He had to get a job.
After school on Tuesday. Abel walked down Tremayne to the donut shop. It was a small place with four tables. Most of its customers bought donuts and other baked goods to go.
When Abel entered the shop, he was struck by the wonderful smells. The display case contained all kinds of donuts, apple fritters, and bear claws. The owner of the place, Elena Suarez, about forty, was a plump, pretty woman who wore too much makeup. She looked like she sampled a lot of her own merchandise.
“Hi, what can I do for you?” she asked Abel, thinking he was a customer.
Abel was so used to going into a place, asking for a job, and then being turned down, that he had little hope here. And his feelings showed. He felt like saying, “I want a job, but you probably don’t want to hire me. So I’ll just be on my way.” He didn’t say that, though. He forced himself to smile and speak up. “I’m Abel Ruiz, a junior at Cesar Chavez High School, and I’m looking for a part-time job after school. I got some references from teachers and stuff.”
“Yeah?” Elena responded. “Well, go sit at one of the tables and fill out this application. I’ll be over to look at it and interview you. I need some help here.”
Abel’s heart leaped. He had never gotten this far. He never even got an application to fill out. At the hamburger joint and the taco stand, they just said they didn’t need anybody.
Abel sat down and began filling out the application. Under “References,” he put down the name of Luis Sandoval, his history teacher. He included two other teachers who seemed to like him too. He put down the name of the old lady at the end of the street. A couple times he mowed her lawn. She called him a “nice muchacho” when she paid him. Finally, he listed a man on the street who once paid him to help move a piano. After that, the guy always waved to Abel.
Elena Suarez noticed Abel was finished with the application. She came over and sat opposite him at the table. She glanced at the application and commented, “Looks good. Lot of nice references. Well, we need somebody for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, in the afternoon. I have two employees now, but they can’t work some days. I’d need you between four and seven. Would that work for you?”
“Oh yeah,” Abel replied, happiness rising in him like a great tide. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to get a job. “Yeah, that’d be great, Mrs.—”
“Elena. Everybody calls me Elena,” the woman answered. “So, Abel, I’ll see you at four tomorrow, okay?”
“You bet. I’ll be here,” Abel affirmed. He didn’t ask about the salary. He just wanted a job. He thought he’d grab the job even if the pay was just a few dollars an hour.
“Oh, it’s minimum wage, Abel,” Elena went on. “But we got a tip jar, and people are pretty generous. I always split the tips evenly among the kids working on the shift. You might end up with five extra dollars every day you work.” She smiled at Abel. Elena had dyed carroty red hair and a bad perm. But at that moment she was the most beautiful creature on earth. She had given Abel a job.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” Abel babbled on his way out. The minute he was out of the donut shop, Abel texted his friend Ernesto. “Got the job! Got the job!” Abel didn’t have any other friends close enough to care about what was going on in his life. But he’d told Ernesto he was going for the donut shop job. Ernesto had told him about his job at the pizza shop. They were friends.
Abel jogged home. The donut shop was close to where he lived on Sparrow Street. The location was very convenient.
As he burst through the front door of his house, Abel yelled, “They hired me at the donut place!”
“That’s great, Abel,” Dad responded.
Mom came around the corner and told him, “I thought they’d probably want you. It’s easy working at a place like that. Not a lot of complicated orders to get mixed up, like at a hamburger or pizza store. They like to hire kids from school too. It’s good for business.”
Mom’s comment about the orders being uncomplicated—in other words, easier for Abel’s slow mind—was not lost on him. He gave her a dirty look.
Penelope was texting her friends from middle school. To Abel, his sister seemed to be texting every waking moment. She looked up and asked, “Will they give you free apple fritters and stuff when you work there?”
Mom glared at her daughter. Penelope wasn’t fat, but lately she’d been adding a few too many pounds. “You don’t need that greasy garbage, Penny,” Mom scolded. “You need broccoli and carrots.”
“Ewww!” Penelope cried, without looking up from her phone. She kept on texting her friends.
“Don’t you have any homework, Penny?” Mom asked.
“Nope,” the girl answered, not even pausing in her texting.
“Penelope Ruiz,” Mom growled, “will you stop that? Honestly, I wish they’d never invented those stupid phones.”
Penelope rolled her eyes and texted “GTG” to her friend.
The living room of the Ruiz home was nicely furnished. The arrangement was Mom’s work. She had good taste. She knew what a few very good pieces could do for a room. She kept within the family budget, making a comfortable and appealing environment. Hanging on the walls were photos of the three Ruiz children. Abel noticed that there were more pictures of Tomás than of anyone else. Tomás graduating from high school as valedictorian. Tomás playing football and making the crucial touchdown for Cesar Chavez High. Tomás as an engineering student at UCLA. Tomás at the prom with a beautiful girl. There were also some photos of Penelope in her soccer uniform and two of Abel. In his freshman photo at Chavez, he looked frightened. The other photo showed him playing basketball before he was dropped from the team.
Despite Mom’s favoritism, Abel didn’t dislike his older brother. Only two years separated the boys, and they’d been great buddies when they were small. Now, however, Abel was jealous of Tomás. Tomás seemed to have it all, and Abel seemed to have nothing. Perhaps because he was the oldest and first in line when they were passing out good looks, brains, and charm, Tomás seemed to have gotten everything. By the time Abel arrived, nothing was left.
Dad wasn’t helpful either. Dad often told Abel that since he was, like his father, not too bright, he’d have to settle for a mediocre life. Dad wasn’t trying to be mean. He was just trying to prepare Abel for the real world. Sal Ruiz did not have a mean bone in his body. He reminded Abel of a gentle, amiable mule, working constantly at hard, menial work without complaining, never resting, never getting anywhere. Abel rarely saw the man sitting down. He was either at the job working or doing chores around the house. Abel always saw his father in motion. He expected that one day his father would just drop dead with a shovel or a rake or a mop in his hand. As he breathed his last breath, his Dad would have a patient smile on his face.
Unlike Dad, Mom pointed out Abel’s shortcomings in a sharper way. She was clearly disappointed in her younger son. She reminded Abel constantly that, since he had been shortchanged in the intelligence department, he would have to work doubly hard just to stay even.
Tomás also knew that he was the brain in the family, not Abel. He didn’t rub that fact in, but he knew it. He made it clear in subtle ways. For instance, he smiled patronizingly when Abel didn’t get the drift of something he was talking about. At such times, without meaning to, Abel did dislike his brother. He feared he might eventually come to hate him, and he didn’t want that to happen.
At dinner that night, Mom announced, “Tomás is coming down for the weekend.” She was always happy to see her elder son. “I told him he was probably so busy with all his classes up there at UCLA that maybe he shouldn’t take the time to come. But you know Tomás. He wants to see his family.”
“Yes,” Sal Ruiz agreed. “It will be good to see him.” Dad reached for a second helping of enchiladas.
“Sal,” Mom scolded. “You’ve already had two enchiladas, and a big pile of refried beans.”
Dad held his fork in midair, looking forlornly at the third enchilada his mouth waited for. Like Penelope, he wasn’t fat. But he was getting a big belly, and that angered his wife. She was always reading medical reports on the risks of obesity.
“You know what the doctors say about fat around the midsection, Sal,” Mom reminded him.
Dad put down his fork in defeat.
“Sal, you haven’t even touched your salad.” Mom spoke to her husband in the same tone of voice she used for her children. The only time Mom used a tone of respect to a member of the family was when she was speaking to Tomás.
Abel felt sorry for his father. Without meaning to be unkind, Mom demeaned him all the time. Anything she said was always for his own good, but Abel wondered whether she didn’t make his father feel like less of a man.
“The salad is gross,” Penelope remarked, wrinkling her nose.
“No, it’s not,” Mom snapped. “It’s delicious. You would be better off, Penny, if you ate more salads and fruits. Do you want to get to look like Aunt Marla?”
Dad’s sister, Marla, was quite heavy. Abel thought she looked fine because she was square and solid. She didn’t bulge out in places as many heavy women did. She was a nice person too. Aunt Marla was one of Abel’s favorite relatives, if not the most favorite. She was always very kind to Abel, giving him compliments and nice gifts, usually money.
“I don’t look like Aunt Marla,” Penelope shrieked.
“Don’t scream at the table, young lady,” Mom commanded. “Next year you’ll be a freshman at Chavez High. Don’t you want to be nice and slim like the pretty girls? As we all know, Aunt Marla never married, and that surely was because of her weight problem.”
Having been denied his third enchilada, Dad was a rare bad mood. He was never cross, but sometimes, infrequently, he dared to disagree with Mom. “My sister, Marla, she never wanted to get married” Dad objected. “Even when we were children, she told me she didn’t want to get married. She’s an RN now, the head one in surgery. She’s very happy and fulfilled. She earns good money, and she takes trips all over the world. She went to Spain with her friends last year and she had a wonderful time.”
“Yes,” Mom sighed, unwilling to be contradicted, “she puts on a brave front. And tells everybody she never wanted to be married, but I’m not so sure. I’ve always felt sorry for spinsters.” Mom refused to give up her view of Marla Ruiz as a miserable, lonely woman who never had boyfriends because she was a size sixteen, instead of a size six, like Mom.
Abel thought about his job at the donut shop, and he felt happy. He’d be earning some money, and he could pick up a used car of his own. He already had a driver’s license. He’d gotten it on his first try down at the DMV, to the shock of his mother. The thought of driving around on his own thrilled him.
Sometimes being in the Ruiz household frustrated Abel so much that he wanted to beat his fists on the wall. Penelope annoyed him, and Mom was on his case around the clock. Dad—poor Dad—sat there like a beaten-down beast of burden. And the sight of him like that depressed Abel because it seemed like a preview of his own future.
Tomás, when he was around, was the worst. Everyone considered Tomás handsome. He had such big white teeth that, when he smiled, he seemed to light up the room. But Abel thought Tomás looked a little bit like a horse when he smiled.