7

Going to Jail

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The next day at breakfast, Mamá tells us that she and Papá have decided to go to a place called the United States of America.

“What’s that?”

“You mean Where’s that!” Felipe yells, pushing a finger into my ribs.

Why is he so angry at me now? Has he forgotten that we slept together when both of us were scared, and I didn’t pee in bed?

My mother touches my hair. “Far away. They speak English there.”

“You mean I won’t be able to speak Spanish anymore?”

Before our parents can answer, Felipe says, “English is a strange language. I am studying it in school.”

“You were studying it in school,” I correct my brother, the way he corrects me. “Your prepa is closed.”

Felipe kicks my chair hard.

“Stop that, right now!” my mother scolds.

He glares at Mamá. “English is so stupid! It’s a language for gringos!”

“I speak English. So does Papá. It’s a good language. You will both learn it so fast!”

“They say ‘table’ for mesa and ‘book’ for libro,” says Felipe.

My mother smiles her tired smile. “It’s another way of saying things, that’s all.”

Felipe shakes his head. He looks miserable.

“What about La Casita? Will we take the restaurant with us?” I don’t even feel like finishing my pan francés and cheese. The thought of living in another house makes me sick.

Felipe just shakes his head again, groaning. He looks at me as if I am the enemy and he would be happy to kill me. “You are as stupid as English. You know that?”

Mamá hushes him.

“No,” she says. “La Casita stays here. This is not our building. We rent it. Maybe someone will buy the business. Your father and I will go first to the United States to look for new jobs and a new house.”

“But what about us? Will we have to sleep alone on the benches in the park like the shoeshine boy?”

“You will stay with your Uncle Aaron,” my mother says.

“Uncle Aaron?” Felipe says in disbelief. He throws the sweet roll he was eating across the table. He stamps his feet. “I’m not going! I’d rather live on the streets!”

Uncle Aaron is very tall and bald. He has batwing glasses and always wears a gray suit with a vest. I don’t think I have ever heard him laugh.

He does know how to do a coin trick behind my ear. But he does it without smiling, as if magic were like taking a bath or eating carrots.

This whole time Papá is drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Every once in a while he shakes his head.

“Aunt Lonia always shouts at us. Don’t do this, don’t do that.” Felipe continues in a moping voice.

“She will be different this time. You’ll see.”

Aunt Lonia is very pretty, but she is always yelling. Keep your feet off this. Don’t put your hands in that! Why are you two always fighting?

She is a grump.

Felipe is right. Who in the world would want to stay with them?

“Why can’t we go with you?” Felipe asks.

I nod. “We won’t be any trouble. We won’t fight or argue.”

“We have to look for jobs,” Mamá says.

“I can look for a job,” I say.

Felipe and Mamá laugh. Did I say something funny?

“Why doesn’t Davico think before he speaks?”

I don’t understand what is going on. Felipe is sometimes a good friend. But the next moment, he makes fun of me.

“Can Consuelo come with us?” I ask.

“There’s no room for her at Uncle Aaron’s. Besides, they have their own maid, Tina. Maybe later, she’ll join us in the United States.”

“Consuelo is not a maid. She’s our nanny. She won’t like it if we go without her.”

“We can recommend her for another job,” Papá pipes in.

There are tears in my eyes.

“What about Genghis Khan? You said you would never get rid of him.”

Felipe pushes his chair away from the table. He glares at me. “Why do you care so much about that big ugly lobster?” Then he marches up to our room.

“You haven’t finished your breakfast,” Mamá calls.

“I am not hungry,” he says, already climbing the stairs.

“You haven’t been told you can get up from the table.”

“I’m not hungry, either,” I cry, following Felipe.

One thing is for sure. I have never been there, but I already hate the United States.

One day, before we have to leave La Casita, I go downstairs to say goodbye to the lobsters. The kitchen is totally empty. Gone are the pots, the pans and the cutting boards. The lobster tank has been drained and placed in a corner by the back door.

All the lobsters are gone, including Genghis Khan.

I should ask what happened to him, but I don’t.

Maybe someone bought him and ate him.

I don’t want to know.