Chapter 16
My brother and Lilly arose about three hours later. By that time the entire family had stirred and my uncle had left for his job at a hotel, which I was only able to deduce because the word “hotel” was the same in Spanish and in English.
His departure left me with a lot of quiet time. I don’t think I’d ever before spent so much time alone and unstimulated. At home, I was always preoccupied by a television or a computer or a cell phone or all of the above. Currently, I had none of those things. The TV was in Spanish, my computer had no Internet access, and the phone didn’t have long distance.
I wanted to leaf back through Lilly’s Quinceañera book, but I knew how annoyed I would be if some stranger snooped through my personal property, passing judgment on my taste and style. So I kept the book closed; instead I thumbed through the stacks of magazines (they were public property, I could buy them at newsstands, so I thought they were fair game).
First, I couldn’t get over how tacky everything was—even the magazine layouts. There was an entire section on pillows, apparently used to kneel on during the ceremony. Don’t their churches have kneelers? They weren’t even elegant pillows crafted of raw silk or satin; they were white frilly pillows covered in lace fringe and pink ribbons. They were shaped as hearts (hello, she’s fifteen not five!) and all embroidered with that cheesy “Hallmark font.”
Next, came the tiaras.Yes, Madison was planning to wear a tiara, but I could guarantee anyone that her specially ordered headpiece from Swarovski was strikingly different from the white, flower-embroidered ones in these magazines. Last time I saw hair ornamentation like that was at my first Holy Communion, and most of those pieces were crocheted by girls’ grandmothers.
The dresses—wow, the dresses. I’m no fashion expert, but every single one looked like a cross between a wedding gown and a tutu (and I had plenty of experience with tutus). I couldn’t understand why any girl would want to wear a pseudo wedding dress before her wedding day—talk about stripping away the magic. At least Madison was wearing a silver slip gown that was “sultry,” not “sweet.”
By eight o’clock, I had scoured all the pages and I couldn’t wait for the household to wake up and entertain me. I was running out of snarky opinions.
My Aunt Carmen appeared in the kitchen first, utterly shocked that there were two sets of dishes resting on the drying rack. I tried my best to explain to her that I was quite satisfied with the meal I had already eaten, but she insisted that I eat at least another piece of fruit (she sliced up a mango and shoved it at me) just to prove I wasn’t starving. I did. It was easier than trying to search my Spanish vocabulary for enough words to protest. Lilly’s father, whom I still called Señor Sanchez despite his objections, came barreling in next. He didn’t eat anything. He merely kissed Aunt Carmen on the cheek and rushed out the door. Finally, Lilly emerged—her auburn hair matted at the nape of her neck and her mascara smeared around her bleary brown eyes.
“Uh,” she grunted at me as she opened the refrigerator and took out what smelled like pineapple juice. “Want any?”
“Nah, I already ate.”
“Seriously? How long have you been up?” she asked, scratching her butt.
“A while.”
“Figures, you went to bed before the sun went down.”
“Yeah, I guess. I see you’re planning quite a party.” I nodded at the stacks of clippings and magazines I had carefully returned to their original positions.
“Oh, yeah. It’s my Quinceañera. It’s like the most important thing in my mom’s world,” she groaned as she took a sip from her glass.
“Oh, so these are all your mom’s plans?” I asked.
“Yup. She’s pretty much running the show. I just told her to tell me when to show up.”
Now that at least made a little more sense. I could imagine a mother choosing all of the items I had scanned earlier. But I still couldn’t imagine a teenage girl not being concerned with her own birthday party.
“Don’t you care? About all the details? I mean, this is a pretty big deal, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s huge! There’s gonna be, like, a hundred people here.”
“Wait, you mean ‘here’? Like, in this house?”
“Not exactly, but yeah. We’re having it in the yard. My mom’s renting a tent.”
I thought back to Uncle Miguel swatting at the stray vines with his machete. It made more sense now.
“That’s a lot of people.”
“Oh, it’s the Who’s Who event of Utuado.” Lilly chuckled. “Seriously, I’m so over Quinceañeras. I’ve been to, like, twenty this year alone. There’re only so many times you can watch a girl do the same waltz and pretend to be interested.”
“But it’s your birthday party! It’s your big day!”
“Oh, yes. It’s the day I become ‘a woman.’ ” She placed her hand sweetly on her heart and laughed, rolling her eyes. “The whole frills and lace thing just isn’t my scene.”
Before I could protest and point out the importance of such an event,Vince emerged in the doorway looking like the walking dead. His muddy brown locks were shooting straight in the air, his face still had creases on it from his pillow, and the corners of his eyes were crusty.
“Have a good time last night?” I asked, sounding more like Mom than I intended.
“Totally,” he groaned between yawns. I could still smell the beer on his breath.
He walked straight over to the fridge, opened it, took out the orange juice, grabbed a glass from the drying rack and poured. He didn’t once pause to consider whether it was rude to go into someone else’s refrigerator without an invitation. That thought would never cross my brother’s mind.
“Hey, so do you guys know we have to work today?”
“What?” my brother and I shrieked in unison. Vince almost dropped his glass.
“Work. Today. At my grandfather’s hotel,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
My first thought was confusion that my Uncle Miguel owned the hotel. I thought he just worked there. My second thought was who exactly signed us up for child labor? Sure, I was fifteen and sure, I had been hoping to work this summer back in Spring Mills, but it seemed a little presumptuous that these distant relatives would just assume we would work at their family business without even asking. What, were we expected to pay off our rent like indentured servants?
“Um, what the hell are you talking about?” Vince asked bluntly.
“Your dad arranged for you to work at the Villa del Mar this summer. At least that’s what my parents told me. Don’t worry, it doesn’t suck that much. Plus, my grandfather is the biggest pushover. We won’t have to spend that much time actually working,” she stated with a smirk, as she pumped her eyebrows.
“What do you mean? You think we can get out of it?”
“Vince! We are not ‘getting out of this!’ ” I yelled. “These people are hosting us for two months, and if Dad told them we’d work then we’ll work. It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do.”
“Speak for yourself,” he huffed.
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I ditch work all the time. And there’s even a bar on the first floor where my family hangs out.”
The idea of working and having something to occupy my time while I was here actually sounded rather pleasant. But it was clear I was the only one who felt that way. With every word Lilly said it was becoming more conspicuous that the only thing we had in common was our appearance. And the more she and Vince agreed, the more alone I felt.
Just then, the telephone on the kitchen wall let out a loud ring. Lilly yelled something toward her grandmother’s bedroom, which I assumed was the equivalent of “I got it!” in English, and picked up the bright blue receiver.
“Dígame,” she stated, before her eyes quickly flicked toward me. “Hold on. She’s right here.”
“It’s for you,” she whispered, holding out the receiver.
I grabbed the phone out of Lilly’s hand, harder than I should have, and flung it to my ear. “Hello?”
The minute I heard my mother’s voice, tears welled in my eyes. It was an involuntary reflex. I didn’t want to cry, and I definitely didn’t want Lilly to see me cry, I just couldn’t help it. It was like the wind got sucked out of my gut the minute my mother spoke.
“Mom?” I squeaked, tears rolling down my cheeks.
I glanced at my brother, who looked annoyed at my slobbering reaction.
“No, Mom. Ev-everything’s fine,” I stuttered between cries. “I just, I just miss home.”
Vince forcefully ripped the phone out of my hand and whipped it toward his mouth.
“We’re working at some stupid hotel! What the heck, Mom? When were you going to tell us that? Or should I ask what else you’ve got planned, huh?” he screamed into the receiver.
I wrestled the phone away from him and softly returned it to my ear. My mom was talking at warp speed on the other end. It sounded like she was apologizing, but it really didn’t matter what she was saying. I just wanted to hear her voice.