Alberto's Lost Birthday (11 page)

I know Néstor well enough to know he feels humiliated and is fuming. Alberto is only a little older than him, but Néstor is such a baby it’s as if the age difference is huge.
I’ve heard Chita say Néstor is spoilt and our parents indulge him too much. If it were up to her, she says, she’d give him a good spanking.

Wishing it
were
up to Chita, I reach the cellar entrance, Alberto by my side. The wine has seeped into my shoe now and the leather squelches as I walk.

Together, we climb the stone stairs and out into the shady courtyard. The sun is shining through the flowering jacaranda trees above, and the ground is covered in spots of light and purple
petals.

Crossing the courtyard, we watch out for any of the workers, but they’re all in the fields tending the vines. Papá will probably be out with them, and Mamá will be working at
her desk. Since Papá’s accountant had to join the army, Mamá has been doing the paperwork. Papá says she’s very good with figures, and he hopes I’ve inherited
her mental agility.

Mamá sometimes complains about how things have changed since the war began. Chita can no longer make many of the family’s favourite dishes, and Mamá says she feels ill with
worry that the
Rojos
will make the vineyard into a
collectivo
. Papá tells her it won’t happen and our area is safe from the Republicans.

Alberto’s papá sometimes says perhaps it would be a good thing to let the workers have some of the profit from the wine they help make. But Papá says there’s not much
profit these days, and anyway, he didn’t put his whole life into this vineyard just to hand it over to a bunch of scallywags in berets.

Papá always finishes the discussion by telling Alberto’s papá he respects their friendship too much to discuss politics. I think it’s Papá’s way of telling
Alberto’s papá to keep his opinions to himself.

Alberto’s papá works for my papá, but they are also very good friends. He and Alberto eat with us, and they live in an annexe attached to the house. Alberto’s
papá is a chemist. He measures the levels in the wine, right from when it’s just grape juice to when it’s very old. He makes sure the wine isn’t too high in alcohol or
tannins. I don’t really understand what he does, but Papá says he’s lucky to have such a clever scientist working with his grapes.

These days, Alberto’s papá helps in the fields, too. So many men have left to fight that most of the workers in the fields are women. At harvest time, we all go to pick grapes. The
neighbours come round too, and Mamá and Chita make as much food as they can for everyone to say thank you.

As we walk across the courtyard to the kitchen, I can smell something frying. For an instant, I forget about my dress and imagine what might be for dinner. Perhaps padrón peppers, or
butterbean stew.

Suddenly, there’s a shout. ‘Hey!’

Alberto and I turn to see Néstor standing at the top of the cellar stairs. He has an ugly sneer on his face.

‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ he shouts at Alberto.

‘Be quiet, Néstor,’ I hiss at him.

Néstor ignores me and stares at Alberto.

‘I’m not. I just think you should be nicer to your sister,’ says Alberto.

Although we are the best of friends, I know that Alberto wishes he has brothers and sisters. His mother died when he was a baby, and his papá has never remarried.

‘She’s just a stupid girl,’ Néstor scoffs, walking towards us.

I think my brother wishes Alberto was his friend, and he’s jealous of my friendship with him.

‘Don’t call her stupid,’ says Alberto. He sounds a bit angry now.

‘I can call her what I want,’ he says. ‘It’s you that should be careful. You’re not a member of this family. You shouldn’t even be playing with us. You should
be playing with the workers’ children.’

‘Néstor!’ I shout. ‘How dare you speak to Alberto like that? You know that Papá and Alberto’s papá are friends. Now just stop all this and grow
up.’

I am a year and a half older than Néstor, and I know the one way to drive him crazy is to tell him to grow up.

He turns to me, and his small eyes flash with anger. All of a sudden, he steps towards me and, with his size able weight behind him, shoves me hard.

My foot turns and I fall. As I hit the ground, I hear the sound of my sleeve ripping. This is becoming the most awful day I can remember.

Néstor hears the noise too and he begins to laugh.

Then, suddenly, Alberto rushes towards my brother and throws a punch at him. It hits him in the face and Néstor falls heavily backwards, holding his nose.

Alberto turns to me. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks.

I nod, but I’m worried. Papá will not be happy about Alberto hitting Néstor, no matter how good friends he is with Alberto’s papá.

He realizes what I’m thinking and says, ‘I’ll talk to my papá.’

‘He’s not your papá!’ screams Néstor.

Alberto and I both turn to him. Like me, Néstor’s still sitting on the courtyard ground. His nose is bleeding and blood drips onto his shirt.

‘Just ignore him,’ I tell Alberto. I have a horrible feeling in my stomach – as if something is about to happen that will change everything.

‘What are you talking about?’ asks Alberto. He obviously does not share my fear.

‘I heard Mamá and Papá talking one night,’ says Néstor quietly.

‘Néstor, I’m going to tell Papá you’ve been eavesdropping again.’

He ignores me and carries on. ‘They were talking about how when your papá married your mama, she was already expecting you.’

‘That’s not true,’ says Alberto, but there’s a tiny note of uncertainty in his voice.

‘Your mamá was expecting you, but the man she married wasn’t your real father.’

‘Shut up, Néstor!’ I shout as loud as I can, hoping to drown out what I know is coming.

‘You’re a bastard,’ says my brother. A nasty smile breaks out on his face.

Alberto stands looking at him. He shakes his head. ‘You’re a liar,’ he says.

Néstor starts to laugh a screeching, spiteful laugh.

‘Take it back,’ says Alberto loudly, but Néstor is still laughing.

I hear footsteps coming towards us, but I can’t break my stare from what’s happening in front of me.

‘Take it back!’ yells Alberto. He runs towards Néstor and throws himself on top of him, punching and kicking him with all the strength he can muster.

At that moment, Mamá appears from the entrance to the house and Alberto’s papá appears at the courtyard’s exit. They arrive in time to see Alberto viciously hitting
Néstor, and they both run over.

‘Alberto!’ shouts Alberto’s papá. He pulls Alberto away, and he clearly can’t quite believe what he just saw. ‘What were you doing?’ he asks crossly.
Then he sees that Alberto has tears running down his face. He can’t look at his papá, staring instead at his boots.

Mamá kneels next to Néstor, fussing over him. She wipes the blood from his face with her handkerchief, asking why Alberto was hitting him. But, for once, my brother remains silent,
his mouth tightly set.

By now, Chita has heard the commotion and runs into the courtyard. Seeing the boys are being attended to, she heads over to me and helps me to my feet.

‘What happened,
chica
?’ she asks, beginning to brush the dust off me. She hasn’t noticed the wine stains. I follow the boys’ lead and do not say anything. I
don’t think I could say it out loud – not when Alberto’s papá is so close.

Alberto’s papá is bending over Alberto with his hands gripping the tops of Alberto’s arms. He’s looking directly into Alberto’s face, but Alberto doesn’t
even glance up.

Then Alberto’s papá turns and walks towards the house. I don’t know what this means. Is he now refusing to talk to Alberto? What’s going to happen next?

He disappears into the dark of the house, but when he returns, he is rolling down his shirtsleeves and putting on his jacket. He carries Alberto’s jacket and hands it to him.

Alberto takes the coat without saying anything. Alberto’s papá turns to Mamá and says, ‘Please accept my apologies for Alberto’s behaviour. He and I are going to
take a little drive to discuss what’s just happened.’

Mamá nods and looks at Alberto. I thought she would be angry with him, but she doesn’t seem to be. Instead, she appears concerned.

With his hands on Alberto’s shoulders, Alberto’s papá leads him past Chita and me. I stare at Alberto’s face, but he doesn’t look up – not even for a
moment.

Their steps become quieter; then I hear the car doors slam and the engine roars to life. I watch as the old black car chugs past the courtyard, leaving a small cloud of dust behind it.

Waking up, I squint at the light shining through a crack in the shutters. I am mid-stretch when I remember what happened yesterday. I throw back the bedclothes and leap out of
bed. In my nightdress and barefoot, I run down the stairs and through the house to the kitchen.

There, sitting at the table, are Mamá and Papá. Chita is at the stove, cooking eggs. No one is speaking as I burst into the warm room.

‘Well?’ I plead.

Mamá shakes her head.

Alberto and his papá are still not back. When they left last night, we thought they would go for a short drive. Maybe to the river, where Alberto’s papá sometimes takes us
all fishing.

Chita had postponed dinner, but it became so late Mamá said we would eat and Chita could put theirs aside. After grace, I could only manage a few mouthfuls, and Néstor just pushed
his food around his plate. Even Mamá seemed to struggle. Only Papá had eaten well, complimenting Chita on her excellent stew.

After dinner, Mamá had suggested Néstor and I go to bed early, and for the first time ever, we agreed. I had gone to sleep straining to hear the sound of the old engine complaining
as Alberto’s papá drove it up the drive.

Papá looks at me and sees the tears starting to well in my eyes. He pushes his chair back and nods to me. I climb onto his lap and push my face into his chest, feeling the bristly hair
through his white shirt.

‘Don’t worry, Mimi,’ he says softly. ‘I’m sure it’s just that that old car has broken down. I don’t know how Raúl has kept it going so long, but
it can’t go on forever.’

I look at Mamá and she nods reassuringly at me.

Only Chita does not seem to agree, as she bangs and clatters far more than is necessary to cook eggs.

Mamá asks very softly, ‘Mimi, sweetheart, can you tell us what happened yesterday? Why were Alberto and Néstor fighting?’

I don’t know what to say, so I burrow my face into Papá’s chest.

Mamá perseveres. ‘Your brother won’t get out of bed today. He says he’s not well, but apart from a black eye, I can’t see anything wrong with him. Won’t you
tell us what happened, Mimi?’

I think about the question, but I don’t know what to say. I’m too confused. And right now, I’m too worried about where my friend is.

Papá says to Mamá, ‘I’m sure it was nothing.’ Then he kisses the top of my head and says, ‘How about some of Chita’s delicious eggs?’

I drag the long stick along the dusty earth, leaving a lined furrow. Leaning over, I take a close look at the vine I’m standing beside. Gnarled and cracked and charcoal
grey, it looks ancient. Papá says Noah planted the first vine when he got off the ark. Looking at this vine, I can believe it.

The workers are all having a siesta. It’s a hot, dry day and usually I would be in the cool of the house. But I want to be out in the vineyard, waiting for Alberto to come back.

In the distance, I hear a buzzing, like a loud mosquito. Lifting my hand to my eyes, I turn towards the noise. There, at the end of the drive, is a motorcycle.

I drop the stick and start running towards the house. As I run, I keep glancing over to the motorcycle, which is now near the house entrance. There is no question in my mind that it brings news
of Alberto.

As I get closer to the house, I see a soldier climb off the bike and walk towards the courtyard. I can just hear him calling for Papá.

Suddenly, I don’t want to run anymore. I slow to a walk, putting my hands on my hips and puffing loudly. By the time I reach the entrance to the courtyard, I am dragging my heels. I
realize I don’t want to know the news.

I stop by the arch, leaning in to see. Mamá and Papá are standing together at the door to the house. The soldier has his back to me, speaking to them. I can’t hear what he is
saying, but as I watch, Mamá puts her hand over her mouth, and Papá puts his arm around her.

They both look shocked, but Papá seems to be asking the soldier questions. The soldier shakes his head. Papá speaks again, this time more insistent. The soldier reaches into his
uniform and pulls out some papers. He hands them to Papá, who looks at them carefully. He shows them to Mamá, and I see her start to cry.

Papá puts the papers into the top pocket of his shirt. He seems to be thanking the soldier, who nods to him and turns on his heel. He walks out of the courtyard, passing me without a
glance. I hear him kick-start his motorbike. It takes a few attempts before he gets it going, but then I hear it driving away, its engine sounding like a mosquito again, buzzing into the
distance.

Mamá and Papá have seen me. Papá beckons me to come to him. Reluctantly I walk towards them, kicking the jacaranda petals with my shoe. As I reach them, Papá hunches
down to look me in the eyes.

‘Darling Mimi. It’s very bad news.’

I nod to let him know I want him to continue, despite the fact that my stomach is lurching.

‘Alberto and his papá were in a motor accident.’

‘Is Alberto all right?’ I ask, my voice sounding very far away.

‘No, Mimi. He isn’t.’ Papá takes a deep breath. ‘Alberto and his papá have both passed away.’

I hear the sound of my own breathing in my ears and it sounds incredibly loud.

Mamá leans down to me and takes my hands in hers so I look at her. There are tears running down her face, but she tries to smile at me.

‘They’re with Alberto’s mamá now, sweetheart.’

I nod but feel as if my body is not my own. My mind seems blank and I can think of nothing – not even my best friend.