California Sunrise (2 page)

He grabbed the book from a shelf and returned to the examining room, excited by the possibilities.

Alicia was standing by one of the photographs he’d taken during a hike in the coastal redwoods. The scene showed a deep forest with sunlit fog whispering through needled branches.

“Did you take this?” she asked.

“Yes. Are you interested in photography?”

“I went to an alternative high school. One of the teachers taught a class about different photographers and showed us some techniques to take good pictures, even with our phones.” She looked back at the photo. “This is nice. It reminds me of Ansel Adams.”

“Adams is one of my favorites.” He was flattered by the comparison and intrigued by her knowledge. He cleared his throat and gestured to the chair by the desk. “Why don’t you sit down, and we can come up with some strategies for you to put into practice? Your son seems occupied.”

“Do you have time? There was that other patient ...” She pointed to the phone.

“I have time.” He flipped open the book and pressed his finger to a spot on the page. “Routine is the most important thing for difficult children. If you and your grandmother can establish definite times for eating, sleeping, playing ...” He shook his head. “Of course, part of the challenge is to get these children to play. Let him have some comfort with the things he likes to do, but stimulate him with new things, too. These are good habits for him to have as he grows and goes to school.”

“Will he be able to go to school?”

“He’s going to need special help. Once we’re able to make the diagnosis, it would be good to start checking into schools in the area to see what they can do. Unfortunately, it varies from one place to another. I’ll help you however I can.” He touched her hand, a gesture meant in comfort.

Instead, the warmth of her skin seeped through his, directly into the marrow of his bones.

Startled, he withdrew his fingers and pointed back to the book. “This is also important. Parents with difficult children need to make sure they have time for themselves.” He smiled at her, struggling to regain his professional demeanor. “You need to take care of yourself, too.”

She smiled at him, but the expression held uncertainty and didn’t fully form.

He shut the book and handed it to her. “Bring him back to see me in a few months. If things get too difficult, we can talk again before that. I—I don’t want you to feel alone.”

After scribbling on the charge slip, he handed it to her. “Just show this to the front desk.”

“
Sí. Gracias.
”

“Call me if you need any help in the meantime, Alicia. I’m not going to kid you. Luis will probably never be easy, but if you learn some of those strategies, it will help you both.” He stood and walked to the door.

For a few moments he stood outside the room, his hand still on the doorknob, intrigued by the young woman before him. She reminded him of himself at that age, making the first steps to create the life she desired.

He gave her another smile and turned away, wondering how her story would end.

• • •

Counting herself lucky, Alicia managed to snag a rare parking spot on the street as a battered maroon pickup pulled from the curb, but climbing the steps leading to the main college campus took the last bit of energy she had.

Maybe she should have used the college parking garage.

Pounding steps behind her made her grimace. Someone with a higher fitness level was showing off.

“Steep hill, isn’t it?” A gawky-looking Anglo boy caught up to her. “My name’s Josh,” he said, slowing his steps to climb beside her. “This is my first semester. How about you?”

The heat of the midday sun touched her shoulders. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. She glanced at her watch. Only a short amount of time to get her registration complete and drive back to the store.

On the other hand, one of the reasons she was coming to school was to meet new people. “Yes, it’s my first semester, too.”

“What’s your name?” he asked as they reached the top step.

“Alicia Fuentes.”

“Nice to meet you, Alicia Fuentes.” He held out his hand and grinned. The expression transformed him from a geek into someone who had potential to be handsome, but not as good-looking as Luis’s new doctor. That man had a smile like she’d never seen anywhere else.

“Nice to meet you.” She took Josh’s hand.

“Are you here to register?”

She nodded.

“So am I. It’s over there, I think.” He pointed to one of the squat cement buildings clinging to the side of the hill.

Josh continued his banter all the way down the sidewalk. “I’m doing two years here before I transfer to a University of California school. I kinda messed up my junior year in high school.”

“Oh?”

He laughed. “Not drugs or anything like that. I just got lazy. Figured I knew it all so I didn’t have to work for my grades. By the time I figured out coasting wouldn’t cut it, it was too late.” He shrugged. “So here I am. How about you? What’s your story?”

“I only need to take a few classes, so this works.”

“In what?”

”Business.”

He held the door open for her. “You shouldn’t limit yourself, then. Get the counselor to tell you what you need to take to be able transfer to the university system if you want to. That way, you’ll always have a choice.”

Sometimes life makes choices for you.

She trailed him to the registrar’s office. Maybe he was right. If she wanted the money she needed to take care of Luis, she might need to reach higher than a retail shop.

But it had worked for Elizabeth. Of course, Elizabeth’s child had been normal.

As Josh walked off with his counselor, he waved. “See you around. Maybe we can have coffee sometime.”

“Sure.”

Not happening.
There was no place for a man in her immediate future, even casual coffee dates.

The image of the doctor teased her veracity.

Fifteen minutes later, Alicia had planned out her required program and registered for her first business accounting class.

“Which other classes do you want to take?” the counselor asked, returning to the web page that listed the available courses.

“What kind of classes would I need to take if I wanted a more advanced degree?” Alicia asked in spite of herself.

“What else are you thinking of? There are lots of possibilities.”

Alicia’s practical self deserted her. She wanted something big, grand, and frivolous. She was tired of being fenced in by her mistakes. “I don’t know. What do first year students take at UC Santa Cruz?”

The counselor laughed. “A lot of intro courses.”

“Like?”

“Oh, English 101, history overviews, sociology—”

“What’s that?” Alicia had heard the term but had never quite gotten a handle on its meaning.

“Sociology tries to explain why humans act the way they do. We have several classes.” The woman clicked a few keys on her computer and another page came up.

The name of a course caught Alicia’s eye.
Sociology of the Family
. “That looks interesting,” she said.

“Do you want to sign up?”

The choice was a fork in the road. One class decision shouldn’t have mattered that much, but somehow, in her heart, she knew it did. It was the difference between a predictable life and one that was pregnant with possibilities.

She took a deep breath. “Yes. I think I do.”

After she finished registering, she hurried to leave the campus, feeling giddy, like she had when she’d first started high school. Some of her friends from Los Banos were going to Merced College in the town. Like her, they still lived at home.

Maybe she wasn’t so different after all. It might take her a little longer, but she was going to accomplish something with her life.

Joy put a spring in her step as she walked to the top of the stairs.

The view of the bay caught her attention. The sun sparkled off the distant waters, and she forced herself to believe she saw dolphins looping through the waves while they played. A yearning for the shore overpowered her. It had been too long since she’d spent time there. No matter his protests, she’d take Luis this weekend. The doctor had told her to provide new stimuli. Maybe he become focused on the waves and leave her some time to experience the sun on her face.

“Hi, are you lost?” a sinewy older woman with faded red curls asked. The woman’s smile invited trust, and her gray eyes hinted at wisdom.

“Just looking at the ocean.”

“Yes, it is beautiful, isn’t it? There are so many places here that catch me unaware. I’m rushing about and then the beauty of where we live grabs hold of me.” She put out her hand. “Dr. Susan Walker. Most students call me Dr. Susan. I teach sociology. Are you a new student?”

“Oh! I think I just signed up for your class. Sociology of the Family.”

“Yep. That’s me.” Dr. Susan gestured at the stairs. “Headed down? I parked down there today to get the exercise.”

As they descended the stairs, Susan continued to ask Alicia questions about her intended degree. “It’s an occupational habit, I’m afraid,” the professor explained. “I’m so curious about why people do the things they do and the effect it has on others. Why did you decide to take my class?”

“I’m not sure, really. It seemed interesting.” Alicia shrugged. “I guess I wanted to do something irrelevant. Not that your class isn’t good ...”
Damn.
She’d put her foot in it.

“You’re not alone.” Susan laughed. “Plenty of people think sociology is irrelevant. They postulate that only courses that lead to a high-paying job are worth the effort. Bah!”

They reached the bottom of the steps.

“I look forward to seeing you again,” Dr. Susan said over her shoulder as she walked away. “I think you’ll discover sociology is very important.”

Alicia unlocked the door to her car, mulling over the last hour. An Anglo boy, an unexpected decision, and a chatty professor—all were very different from the events of her normal day. Her lungs expanded with new air, as if a breeze had blown in from a far-off country to change her life forever.

Raúl pounded his fist on the steering wheel.
Idiots!

According to the radio announcer, a private firm had taken over a public mental health service in North Carolina and put in place a policy that denied doctors Medicaid reimbursements if they treated undocumented immigrants.

“We’re not going to aid and abet the government in spending our hard-earned tax dollars on a bunch of illegals,” the company spokesman, a man by the name of O’Hannasy, said.

Damn it!
Doctors would refuse patients, and treatments that could have prevented more serious illnesses would be withheld. What kind of a world was this, where families were ripped apart and children died because of greed? Where families were deported, leaving young children to fend for themselves?

And who was O’Hannasy to talk about immigrants?

Raúl’s Jetta almost flipped on its nose when he slammed on the brakes in his condo’s driveway. His car door’s
thud!
silenced the frogs in the stream running by his end unit but had no effect on the rustling eucalyptus.

Or his mood.

Everyone who looked Hispanic would be hassled more than they already were. Folks like Alicia Fuentes and her son would get screwed, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

She deserved better.

He strode into his kitchen, grabbed a plate, and thunked down the taqueria burrito he’d purchased on the way home. Not the diet he’d recommend to his patients, but childhood habits were hard to break.

Dinner in hand, he slumped into his recliner and flicked on Telemundo. When the anchor reported the same news Raúl had heard earlier, the spicy beans and meat in his stomach protested at the acid surge from his anger.

Too many of his relatives were old before their time, and already too many children didn’t get the vaccines they required. Someone needed to protest these damaging policies.

But he would remain silent.

He couldn’t get involved, not with anything or anyone. Especially not a patient. Getting his parents and siblings back into the country had to remain his main focus. A corkscrew of tension twisted up his vertebrae.

Mierda!

The doorbell chimed, making him stuff his anger into its usual mental box and smooth his features to the pleasant expression people expected from a professional.

He pulled open the door without looking through the peephole and immediately regretted it.

His next-door neighbor, Laura, stood holding a plate covered with aluminum foil. Mid-twenties, her body toned and fit, she was exactly what he needed in a woman—at least that was the impression she’d attempted to give him time and again.

“Hello.” Her smile was bright and her eyes intelligent. Based on the aroma wafting from the plate she proffered, she was also a good cook. “After your long day, I thought you might be hungry.”

Automatically, he took the food. “Thank you.” No need to tell her about the half-eaten taqueria bomb in his stomach.

“If you aren’t too busy Friday night, I’d like to invite you over for dinner. The Ramirezes are coming, too. I was planning on some hamburgers, a few salads.”

He should go, get to know the neighbors, but if he went, it would mean something to her.

Uninvolved in anything or anyone.

He shook his head. “I’m going to have to decline.”

“But you need to eat.”

“Some other time.” He looked at the dish in his hand. “Thank you for this. I’ll return the plate soon.”

“No problem. Any time. I always have coffee ready.”

“I see. Thank you again.”

She gave him one more glance, waved, and departed, her seductive walk suggesting he was missing out on something good.

He tossed the half-eaten burrito in the trash, peeled back the foil on Laura’s dish, and smiled. Enchiladas. He scooped some onto an empty plate.

Meghan, his college sweetheart, used to make great Mexican, in spite of her Irish roots. He’d put everything he could into the relationship, but his damned depression had condemned it from the beginning.