Julio Avila was driving to Cesar Chavez High School in his ancient pickup early the next morning. He wanted to get in some practice running before classes. A track meet was coming up, and he wanted to finish big. Every time he ran he got a little faster, and he really wanted to leave Rod Garcia in his dust.
But in the foggy early morning, Julio caught sight of his father looking for cans and bottles in a dumpster along Washington Street. He was taking out the aluminum soda cans. When he filled a bag, he was able to make several dollars. Julio felt sick. His father had a small disability pension, and he used that to pay their rent at the trailer park. Julio bought their food and paid their utilities and other expenses from his job at the supermarket. Things were always tight. There was little or nothing left over for extras.
Julio felt so sorry that his father couldn’t afford a few little pleasures, like a beer with his friends. When Mr. Avila had taken Griff Slocum out for fish and chips and beer, it was a real stretch. He’d saved for two weeks, collecting bottles and doing odd jobs.
Julio knew his father loved chocolate bars, so he bought some. But Mr. Avila frowned and said, “Son, you shouldn’t be spending your hard-earned money on stuff I don’t need. God knows I’m enough of a burden on you as it is.”
Julio felt so bad that his father had to humiliate himself scrounging for empty cans and bottles for the recycling center. Mr. Avila had worked hard in his life, and, yeah, he’d made plenty mistakes, but who was perfect? Julio felt that most of his father’s hard life was the result of bad breaks, rather than his vices. Julio thought his father was a good man, and nobody loved their son more than Mr. Avila loved Julio.
Julio entertained fantasies of coming into a lot of money and being able to give his father a little dignity in the few years he had left. He wasn’t a healthy man, and if something good didn’t happen soon, Julio was afraid any good fortune would come too late.
When Julio finished running that morning, he saw Ernesto Sandoval just coming to school.
“Hey, Julio,” Ernesto said. “You put me to shame. Out running already. I’m sitting there wolfing down Mom’s eggs, and you’re burning up the course. No wonder you’re so much better than me!” Then Ernesto noticed the glum look on his friend’s face. “What’s up, dude? Having a bad day already?”
Julio shrugged. “On my way in, I saw my dad looking for cans and bottles in the dumpsters on Washington. He’s trying to get enough together to buy himself a beer or maybe a chocolate bar. It tears me apart to see him like that. I offered to give him some more money from my salary, but he turned me down. He’s got his pride,” he said.
Ernesto nodded. “I hear you, homie. It’s gotta be hard.”
“You can’t imagine, dude. How would you feel if your father wasn’t a fine history teacher making a good salary and taking care of his family, if, instead, he was going around looking for cans so he could buy a little something to ease the misery of being him. Dad’s got aches and pains. He’s had a lot of injuries, but the deepest one is to his pride. He’s told me a hundred times how sorry he is that I gotta use some of my salary to pay for our food and gas and electric. Every time he looks at my rusty old beater of a truck, he’s got pain in his face like if it wasn’t for him, I’d be driving decent wheels,” Julio said.
“Julio, is there anything—” Ernesto started to ask.
Julio cut in. “No, there’s nothing you can do, dude. I know you’d help in any way you could, but how do you think Pop would feel if I started begging money from my friends? I think he’d jump in the river. But look, Ernie, you’re a great friend, and if it wasn’t for your friendship, maybe I’d jump in the river.”
“Well, maybe something will come up, like some little job he could do that wouldn’t be too hard and would put a few extra bucks in his pocket,” Ernesto said.
“Yeah,” Julio said. “Maybe the tooth fairy will offer him a gig, or maybe a genie will leap from one of those dirty soda bottles and ask him to make a wish.” There was bitterness in Julio’s voice.
“Sorry, man,” Ernesto said. It was all he could think of to say.
As Julio headed for his first class, he met Rod Garcia coming from the opposite direction. Ever since the Griff Slocum incident, Rod had been subdued. Ordinarily he would have made some snide remark, but he said nothing.
Julio didn’t think Rod’s manners would last long, but the juvenile court was currently trying to decide if they should level charges against the three boys for concealing information about the incident.
Rod wasn’t eager to make any waves or any more enemies just now.
Abel Ruiz came along and fell in step with Julio. “How’s it going, man?” Abel asked. “You look like your dog just died.”
“My pop was rooting around in the dumpsters this morning when I started my morning run. The poor guy likes a little spending money, and our budget is pretty tight. It’s like a knife turning in me to see him like that, you know?” Julio said. Abel briefly threw an arm around Julio’s shoulders. He didn’t say a word. Julio continued, “The hardest part is what it’s doing to my father. He’s so ashamed of where he’s at. I tell him he’s a good pop and that I wouldn’t exchange him for anybody, but he’s so broken.”
“Yeah, homie, I get what you’re saying. At my house, it’s not that bad, but I get to see my father feeling like a piece of dirt too, man. When he and Mom got married, he lost his job and had to beg Mom’s cousin for work. Mom kept reminding him of how wonderful and generous her relatives are, and how lucky he is that they let him break his back every day. Dad did hard, dirty work, and he had a better sense of how to landscape a yard. He’s had ideas better than the dudes he worked for, but Mom wouldn’t let him make any suggestions. She was afraid her wonderful relatives would resent that.”
Abel was on a roll. “Julio, I saw my father shrinking every day, little by little, going down like a burning candle. So I know where you’re coming from. Since that drunkard hit him, though, he’s been on disability, and I’m telling you, it’s the best thing that’s happened to him in twenty years. I’m hoping the lawyers get him a good settlement. Me and him actually go fishing now, for the first time in my life!”
Julio smiled and high-fived Abel. “Good luck to your dad and you, homie.”
As Julio walked on, he knew that Abel understood the pain in the Avila family more than Ernesto Sandoval ever could. Ernie had a big heart, but unless you’ve experienced it, you don’t understand how a good man can be whittled down to nothing.
Bianca Marquez was back in school and looking better than anybody could remember her ever looking. She was still too thin, but her arms didn’t look like sticks anymore. And when she came with Abel to lunch at noon, she smiled at the gang and didn’t just want to eat lettuce leaves like she did before. She actually ate a sandwich Abel had made for her: Swiss cheese, sliced corned beef, and creamy deli coleslaw on the side.
“This is sooo good,” Bianca exulted.
Ernesto, Naomi, Carmen, and Mona, Julio’s girlfriend, also came, but there was no sign of Julio.
“No Julio?” Ernesto asked Mona Lisa.
“Poor Julio, he was feeling bad,” Mona said. “He’s worried about his dad. Poor Mr. Avila is really down on his luck, and that hurts Julio.”
“Life can be a bear,” Abel said. “So many creeps are living large, and a poor dude like Mr. Avila … he showed so much compassion for Griff Slocum, and still he gets the dirty end of the stick.”
“I heard Rick Alanzar and Humberto Gomez are going to have to do community service for not telling the law everything they knew. Rod Garcia isn’t involved because he wasn’t there the night Rob Gomez kinda showed his hand. Gomez swears he never dreamed his uncle was the killer, but Rick sorta always had suspicions. The thing is, those three guys have got to live with something for the rest of their lives. If they hadn’t hassled Mr. Slocum, the murder would not have happened,” Ernesto said.
“I hope they have to clean toilets in the park for the rest of the year,” Naomi said. “I think that would be good community service for them. Have any of you guys been to the park restrooms in a while?”
Abel laughed. “That’s good, and then let them clean up the dog park every afternoon.”
“I’m trying to eat my delicious sandwich,” Bianca groaned.
“I wonder how Mrs. Slocum is doing,” Ernesto said. “I looked up the value of a Honus Wagner in the collectibles book, and even if it’s kinda ragged, it’s probably worth a couple hundred thousand.”
“I think the lady is already wealthy,” Abel said. “She lives in a gated community up in LA. The rich get richer and the poor … well, you know the rest.”
“Julio told me she tried to help her son,” Mona said. “She went to visit Mr. Avila and Julio when her son was killed—before they knew who did it. She said her son would hide from her, not let her know where he was. He was so ashamed of his life, he didn’t want to see her. He said he’d call her once in a while but that was all.”
“Rich ladies kinda make me sick,” Abel said.
“You’re in kind of a bad mood, aren’t you, Abel?” Naomi said.
“Yeah, I guess,” Abel said. “Mom is fawning over Tomás again. He’ll be coming down soon to brag about his newest academic honor. It’s like when he comes in the house, there’s a drumroll in the air. I see him coming, and I want to puke. I wish he’d move to the Fiji Islands and become king of some primitive tribe and leave us alone.”
Naomi thought about her own three rough-and-tumble brothers. She was grateful for their down-to-earth qualities. Orlando, the oldest, was all over the Internet with his new music, and he and Manny were riding high. But they were never arrogant. Ernesto felt grateful too that there wasn’t some incredible older brother in his family, excelling so much at everything that he couldn’t possibly measure up.
“Your mom doesn’t mean to play favorites, Abel,” Naomi pointed out. “I’m sure she loves you and Penelope as much as Tomás.”
“Naomi,” Abel said, “you don’t get it. I’m just waiting for the day she rolls out a red carpet for him to walk into the house on.”
Bianca laughed. It dawned on everybody that they’d never seen her laugh so heartily before. Maybe it was because she was hungry all the time. Then Bianca said, “Abel, in my house, I’m pretty much of a nobody too. Mom only has eyes for her new husband. I don’t know what she sees in him, but he’s the center of her universe. He’s homely, but he makes good money. I guess that’s part of it. I’m just counting the days when I graduate from here and can go off to college and never have to live with them again.”
Abel looked at the girl sympathetically. “I’m looking forward to going to culinary school in another town. I got a scholarship already. I’ll be living there and getting started on my real life. Then Mom can worship Tomás all she likes. My only regret is that I’ll be leaving Penelope to fend for herself, but she’s tough and strong. It’s not as bad for her to have Mom drooling over Tomás. Penelope is a girl, and she doesn’t feel the sibling rivalry I feel. And then I guess I’ll be coming home to visit quite a bit. I wanna check on my dad and Penny too. She’s a big pest most of the time, but I love the little gnome.”
Ernesto looked at his friend and smiled. “And you can’t forget your homies, Abel. I’ll be going to City College and then State, and I’ll be living at home to save money. I don’t want some huge student loan on my back when I graduate. So you gotta drop by Wren Street every once in a while, or I’ll go up to that culinary school and haunt you, man.”
“I’ll never cut you off, homie,” Abel said. “You’re for the long run. When we’re broken-down old men, we’ll be hanging out together cursing our fates.”
“I’m going to City College too,” Naomi said. “It’s so much cheaper to do the first two years there, then State.”
Ernesto reached over and covered Naomi’s hand with his. “We’ll be together, babe.”
“Yeah,” Abel said, “you got that perfect family over there on Wren Street, Ernie. It’s easy living with them. And, Naomi … uh, you got a nice mom and … and a really nice pit bull there.”
When Julio got home from school that day, his father seemed to be in a state of shock. He was sitting in the little trailer, at the dinette table, with an opened letter on his lap.
“What’s the matter, Pop?” Julio asked. “Bad news?” Julio couldn’t imagine a letter that some relative had died. They didn’t have any relatives. In spite of their poverty, they didn’t owe any big bills so nobody should be harassing them.
“Julio,” his father stammered. “It’s from a lawyer—”
“A lawyer?” Julio repeated. “Somebody suing us, Pop? They must be crazy. You can’t squeeze blood out of a turnip, and that’s what we got here. Turnips.”
“I don’t understand it, Julio. Would you read the letter and see what’s going on? I don’t understand it,” Mr. Avila said. His hands were shaking.
Julio took the letter along with some documents. He read the letter and his legs got so weak he had to sit down at the dinette table across from his father. “Pop,” he said, “it’s from Mrs. Slocum’s lawyer. You know, Griff Slocum’s mother. She arranged it so you get an annuity every month from next month on.”
“A what?” Mr. Avila asked.
“An annuity. You get a thousand dollars every month for as long as you live. And she paid for a life insurance policy so when you’re a hundred and five and you check out for heaven, I get a big sum of money,” Julio said.
He started to laugh and cry at the same time. He grabbed his father’s shoulders and said, “Pop, a thousand bucks every month! You can buy a hundred chocolate bars.”
Tears filled Mr. Avila’s eyes, “But I don’t understand. Why would she do such a thing?”
“She says in the letter that this annuity comes from the Honus Wagner baseball card. You remember when she came to see us? She said you were the only friend her son had. You were the only one who took him out for fish and chips and beer once in a while and treated him like a human being. She did this to thank you for being kind to her son, Pop. You get a thousand a month, and you won’t have to look for cans and bottles in dumpsters anymore … not ever.”
“But, what must I do to earn it?” Mr. Avila said.
“Nothing, Pop. Just enjoy. You earned it when you saved up money for weeks so you’d have enough to give Griff Slocum a little treat. She says here in the letter that the Honus Wagner belonged to her son, and that he would want his friend to have some of the benefit from his treasure.”
Julio hugged his father, and they sat there for several hours, crying a little, laughing a lot, reading and rereading the letter.
On Washington Street, Mr. Hussam also received a letter from Mrs. Slocum’s lawyer. There was a generous check made out to Mr. Hussam. It was more money than Mr. Hussam had ever received for anything. Shaking with emotion, he read the woman’s words: “My son had no place to lay his head, but you sheltered him behind your store. You allowed him to use the restroom facilities in your store. You showed him kindness, and I thank you with all my heart. Accept this gift with my gratitude. Consider it from my son—his final gift.”
They later learned that the proceeds from the sale of the Honus Wagner baseball card had gone to Mr. Avila’s annuity and the gift to Mr. Hussam; with the considerable amount that was left over, Mrs. Slocum endowed a local scholarship fund. It was the largest bequest the fund had ever received, and it meant scholarships for numerous young people in the barrio for years to come.
On a bright, sunlit day a few weeks later, the Sandovals, Martinezes, Ruizes, and all of their extended family and friends gathered to hear Councilman Emilio Zapata Ibarra unveil a new commemorative plaque at Chavez High.
In honor of Griff Slocum,
for the education of the
young people who graduate
from Cesar Chavez High School.
—Laura Slocum
“Turns out Griff accomplished something after all,” Mr. Ibarra said. “A bright future for so many kids. His Honus Wagner was a treasure beyond what he knew.”
“I wish Griff were here to see this,” somebody said.
Ernesto hugged Naomi against him and smiled at her. “He knows,” Ernesto said. “He knows.”