Opciones - educación linda
by Wanda Richards
For me, the first day of school meant not having to work ten hours a day so I should have been anxious about getting back to school, but I wasn’t thinking about how nice seeing my friends would be. Instead, I was nervous about starting my last year of high school. I dreaded graduating. Unlike my friend Ilse who knew that all she wanted to do was marry her boyfriend and, unlike Wendy, who had already been accepted to The College of William & Mary I had no idea what I’d be doing next year. Of course if you talked to my mother she’d tell you I’d be married to David Alfaro as soon as school was out, or before.
That was her dream, not mine. Mom said she didn’t want to be with Mauricio; although you could never tell she wasn’t madly in love with him if you saw her with him. She’d hang all over him and fix him his favorite foods and he was devoted to her until she left the room. That’s when he’d saunter over and ask me how I was doing. I hated his smell even when he cleaned himself up. He made me want to vomit, vomit, vomit. As soon as he walks into the door of our apartment, he’ll have a beer in his hand and a gleam in his eye for me.
I always wondered if Mom knew about Mauricio’s come-ons to me. Didn’t she notice I locked my door every night? Didn’t she think it was strange that he’d be standing so close to me whenever she’d come back in the room?
I never dwelled on her betrayal, though because, in my mind, she wasn’t my real mother. I didn’t even meet her till I was thirteen. Before that I’d lived in El Salvador with my grandmother who’d loved me and treated me like a real mother should. I was happy there and would always call Chirilagua, El Salvador home, but as much as I looked back on that time with fondness I’d never willingly go back to the poverty.
Jefferson High stood right in front of me. In the morning it glistened as the sun hit the tall slender windows over the principal’s office. As I climbed the stairs up to the main entrance beside students with empty backpacks soon to be laden down with books, I consoled myself that I had a whole year to decide what I’d do in September of 2005.
As usual, the first day consisted of getting our schedules, being assigned lockers, and the teachers introducing themselves. Finally it was time for lunch and I headed toward the cafeteria. Ilse Rodriguez, my best friend since I arrived in this country, was talking to some of the Hispanic girls in the hallway.
“Ilse.” I said.
She turned around. “Hola, Linda.” She moved her head forward to give me a formal kiss on the cheek.
I responded, but I didn’t like her doing that here in school. It made it so obvious to the Americans that we were different.
“Como pasaste this summer?” Ilse was dark-skinned and had long straight black hair that hung to her waist with little bangs that curved around her eyes. She was so chubby that her skirts always rode up on her thighs which made the boys poke fun at her. The truth was she couldn’t afford to buy clothes that fit her. She gave me an inquisitive smile. “Well, you showed up so I guess you and David didn’t get married.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “No, of course not. I worked all summer.”
“Girl, you better not wait too long, David will find someone who’ll give him a baby right away.”
The other girls snickered. “David es bien guapo.” One of them said.
It was true. David was handsome. I’d been madly in love with him when we first met. In the beginning, I thought we’d be married when we turned sixteen like most of the El Salvadoran girls but I decided staying in school would be better. At first I wanted to learn English then, after I began to understand more of what the teachers were saying, I began to dream of graduating from high school.
As we stood in the hallway Ilse and the other girls were looking at me as if I were a fool when one of the teachers hollered. “Break it up and move it down to the lunchroom!”
Ilse took my arm and walked me toward the table we’d sat together at for three years now. “Be serious. You know David’s un papacito and some other chica is going to hook up with him.”
“How’s Nestor?” I said hoping to get her off the David subject.
Her chubby round face turned into a frown. “He loves me, but he wants to bring his little girl here from El Salvador before we get married.”
I nodded.
“That’s enough about me. I’ve got it together.” Ilse took her gnawed off fingernail and pointed it at my chest. “Girl, if I were you, I’d marry David right now and forget about this school stuff.”
“That’s you and not me.” I said quietly.
Hands covered my eyes. “Guess who-o-o.” A crystal-like voice said.
“Wendy.” I screamed. I stood up and hugged her. “It’s so good to see you.”
She sat next to me. “How was your summer?”
I tried not to frown. “Oh, you know working.” I said without sounding too serious. “And you?”
“I did it. I finally got up enough money to go to Spain to study in that language school over there.”
“You went to Spain?” I practically drooled.
Ilse leaned her head across the lunch table. “La gringa quiere aprender Español.”
“Esta gringa ya aprendi Español. Y ahora te entiendo.” Wendy responded.
Laughter erupted in my stomach and soon I was giggling uncontrollably. I didn’t know which was funnier, Wendy’s exaggerated Spanish accent or Ilse’s face when she realized Wendy understood what she’d said.
“I studied in España this summer.” Wendy bragged then leaned toward Ilse. “What did you do, wash toilets?”
Ilse’s beautiful vanilla-colored skin dimpled up in anger, then she popped out of her seat. “I’m getting something to eat.”
Wendy smiled at Ilse’s defeat. I understood why Wendy thought Ilse deserved to be insulted, but I knew the other reality, she had so much more than Ilse or I had. Wendy wasn’t rich by American standards. Wendy worked hard all year at the mall last year to pay for her trip to Spain, but she could never fathom the idea that I actually had to use my money to pay rent. That concept was outside of her realm of understanding.
I liked her in spite of our differences, though. She was beautiful in that very American way with pale skin, blue eyes and straight brown hair that curved just at the ends, right below her shoulders. We met in tenth grade when she participated in a program where they paired up a native Spanish speaker who needed to learn English and an American that wanted to learn Spanish. We were instant friends. I’d been to her house many times, a comfortable brick townhouse with a garage for her parent’s two cars underneath.
Of course I’d never invited Wendy to my house. She must have picked up on my discomfort with having her over since after the first few months she stopped asking to visit my house.
“Linda, you have Honors English, right?”
“Yes.” I said.
“Great. See ya there.” She flitted off.
Hastily I downed my sandwich, then headed off to my next class.
That afternoon I headed to Maxwell’s convenience store where I’d work till ten tonight. Today was the first day in a long time I hadn’t started at dawn and worked till closing. The store sits behind our apartment complex; people come to buy everything here – batteries, tortillas, cigarettes, toilet paper, and lots more. There is a Mr. Maxwell, but I’ve only seen him once in the two years I’ve worked here.
As usual, Mr. Patel was working the register. When he saw me come through the door he gave me a dirty look. He hadn’t been happy when I informed him school was starting again.
“You’re here.” He said in his overly-pronounced English he’d learned in India.
I ignored the fact he didn’t even say hello. “Where do you want me to start?”
“There’s a lot to unpack in the storeroom.”
I just nodded and headed to the door that led past the bathroom to the area where the trucks dropped off the new goods.
“When you are finishing there, come here and run the register I am needing a break.”
He wanted to go home is what he really meant to say. I retreated to the dank dark room with a single light bulb overhead. But as I closed the door, I enjoyed the solitude the storeroom gave me. Even though I didn’t care for Mr. Patel at least I didn’t fear him like I did Mauricio. I slit the boxes open, stacked the cans, and put candy bars neatly in the boxes we’d use for display. When I’d finished, I opened the door to the alley and was assaulted by the stench of the dumpster. I held my breath and threw the empty boxes in a pile beside the garbage.
Mr. Patel was standing behind the register reading the paper when I came back. “Oh, you’re done. Good I must go. My son is playing in a soccer game today and I want to see him play.” He grabbed his keys and hurried out.
I grit my teeth as I saw him get into his car. Oh well, some day I’ll be the manager of something I consoled myself. But, I won’t be like him I vowed. I’ll be fair.
Before I could get my key in the register, I heard a noise outside. Then I saw who it was. The same boy that always wanted to buy cigarettes and this would just be once more I’d have to say no. The problem was when I was new I sold cigarettes to some of his friends. That was before I realized it was against the law. Back home in El Salvador we have nothing like that. If you’ve got the money you can buy it no matter what it is. Of course nobody ever has any money in my country. That’s why we’re here.
He let his bike lay on the sidewalk and came into the store. Immediately his smile radiated toward me.
“No.” I said wagging my head exaggeratedly
“Aw, come on.” The dark-skinned black boy smiled showing off his perfect milky teeth.
When I came to this country I’d never seen someone from Africa before. In the beginning I was scared of them but now I know most of them are very nice, just different.
He came toward the counter. “Be cool, you sold them to my brother.”
I knew better than to get involved in this debate. “I’m sorry but no cigarettes today.”
“But they’re for my father.” He took his hands out of his baggy pants and showed me his palms. “I swear.”
“Sorry.” I turned around and pretended to be doing something.
“Such a bitch.” He yelled as he pushed the door open, then added. “Why don’t you go back to your country?”
I’d trained myself not to react to things like that. I pulled the paper Mr. Patel had been reading onto the counter and bent over it. At least the paper occupied my mind, but it seemed like all it had were things my mom and I couldn’t afford and bad news.
The bells tinkled. I looked up to see David walk through the door. David Alfaro, I’d been in love with him since the beginning of tenth grade. He was tall with short dark hair and narrow Chinese-looking eyes. He was from Guatemala and hadn’t been in this country as long as I had. He lived with his uncle who let David work with him in construction.
“Hola.” He said in his special shy way as he twisted his shoulders and leaned one elbow on the counter.
“I didn’t see you in school today.” I said.
“We were busy and mi tio couldn’t spare me.”
I tensed my mouth so he’d know I didn’t approve.
He hung his head like an errant child. “I’ll go tomorrow.” He leaned toward me. “Did you miss me?”
I felt myself melt.
“If you noticed I wasn’t there. You must have missed me.”
I smiled involuntarily.
He snickered and pushed his face across the counter to give me a kiss.
I turned my head so he could kiss my cheek.
Outside it was getting dark and I saw headlights turn into the parking lot. Instead of turning them off, the driver kept them on so they glared right at David. Then I recognized the car. It was Mauricio’s, my mother’s boyfriend.
“David, so you’re coming tomorrow.” I hoped I could avoid this all together.
But David had spotted the familiar driver. “What is he doing here?”
I was mad Mauricio was here too, but what could I do?
“Why would he come here?” He turned and looked right at Mauricio.
Mauricio put the car in reverse and backed out onto the street and sped off.
I felt tears in my eyes. Something I tried not to do was cry. It got you nowhere.
David leaned closer. “Por favor, let’s get married and get our own place.”
I choked back the tears. “Not yet. I want to finish school.”
David’s face turned into a sad frown. “Yeah, school.”
Right then a group of people appeared on the sidewalk.
“I got to get to work.” I said.
“Si, entiendo.” He headed out the door, then turned around and looked at me. I shot him a kiss. I did love him. Too bad we didn’t want the same things.
When I got home, around eleven, Mom was waiting for me. She had a plate of chicken and rice with a fat El Salvadoran tortilla sitting on the counter. I grabbed it and walked to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Mom followed me with a glass of horchata. I gulped down the gritty drink made out of ground up gourd. Even though I’d gotten used to eating sandwiches and Cokes at school I still preferred the food from my country. I tasted the fried tortilla and closed my eyes. I could almost see my grandmother.
Mom sat down beside me and spoiled the pleasant image. “Mauricio told me he saw David at your work.”
I stared straight ahead. Why didn’t she wonder why Mauricio was at the store? Why didn’t she ask him if he bought anything there?
“Hija, I still can’t find a job. I went everywhere today.”
“Why don’t you go back to the place you worked before?”
“I did, but the manager wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“Did you give them two weeks notice when you left?”
“No, hija.” Her voice drug the words out so I’d feel sorry for her. “I was tired of working.”
I shook my head at my mother’s lack of understanding of this culture. Of course they didn’t want her back if she just left that abruptly. “You shouldn’t have quit if you had no other way of getting another job.”
Her green eyes circled the ceiling then came back down to me. “So, did David say anything about getting married?”
I looked at my mother. Her attitude seemed so absurd. She was an attractive thirty-seven year old woman with blonde hair and a good figure. She was healthy and was capable of more than just relying on me to take care of her.
“With you only working part time and me not working… Linda, why don’t you marry David and we can get our own place?” Her eyes had that worried look. I didn’t know how Mauricio treated her when I wasn’t here, but something told me not so good.
“He loves you, hija. And he and his uncle make money in construction.”
I finished my plate of food and took it into the kitchen.
She followed right behind me with her arms flailing. “Linda, you need to grow up. We need to start making our lives.”
“I feel like me getting an education is making our lives.” I said as I poured soap on the sponge.
“Don’t do that. I’ll do the dishes.” She pushed me out of the way. “You don’t think you’ll find a boy better than David, do you?” She asked me as she scrubbed the plate.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“Don’t be tonta. If he hasn’t said anything about getting married, you can just get pregnant.”
She was making me so mad I couldn’t speak. It was one of my problems with David, too. He wanted me to get pregnant. With my mother pressuring me for the same thing my life was unbearable.
She finished washing the last plate, then started waving her wet hands in front of my face. “Hija, you’re already seventeen and you’re very well educated. The teachers say you speak English like an American. If you wait to marry you may not find one as good as David.”
What my mother really meant to say was, I might not meet a boy who would let her live with us.
I heard a door open and close. Mauricio was up.
My mother looked at me as if I were going to suddenly change my mind about getting married and quitting school.
“I think your boyfriend’s up.” I barked in a loud whisper.
“He just went to the bathroom, I guess.” She followed me as I walked out of the kitchen. “David isn’t going to wait forever and think about what you’re doing to me.”
“I’m tired.” I said. “We can talk later, Mother.”
“Don’t let David slip through your hands.”
I closed my bedroom door behind me and cut the light on to look around. There wasn’t any furniture for Mauricio to hide behind. My clothes were folded in neat stacks along the wall. I opened the closet door. Good. Mauricio hadn’t let himself into my room. I carefully locked the door then placed a chair in front of it, then got ready for bed. About fifteen minutes later the doorknob jiggled. Thankfully the lock held.
I lay in bed thinking. Was everybody else right? Ilse, David, and my mother all thought marriage was better than staying in school. Life with David would be good and best of all there’d be no Mauricio. But there was something about studying things that I enjoyed. I liked Science where I got to reason and Social Studies where we talked about what could have been and what could be. I preferred to learn instead of assume; debate instead of argue, but most of all school made me feel that life was full of possibilities rather than my mother’s version of life where there was only one way out of every situation.
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