Return to Sender (10 page)
Authors: Julia Alvarez
A little while later, there was a knock, this time at the back door. “Hello!
¡Hola!”
a voice called. “It's just me, Connie.” We were so relieved to hear the voice of the
patrón's
wife. Papá hurried to the door and opened it.
Mrs. Paquette was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with the initials uvm, which stand for her older son's school. She was carrying a flashlight and a bucket of candy. She explained that she had heard the car doors and seen the kids banging at our door and then throwing eggs and
rotten fruit at our windows, and she guessed what had happened. Halloween trick-or-treaters had not gotten their treats and so were playing tricks. But then, she also realized we might not understand. She would have hurried right over, but she wanted to be home in case the kids came to her door. Sara and Tyler were both out trick-or-treating with their friends, and it was too much for Mr. Paquette to be up and down to answer the door with his injuries. So she had tried calling us to explain and gotten worried when no one answered the phone.
“We knew it was Halloween.” Ofie was showing off. Oh yes? I probably had several broken bones in my left hand to prove otherwise.
“Of course!” Mrs. Paquette laughed at herself. “What was I thinking? You would have known about it from North Carolina.” Anyhow, she had brought over some extra candy for us to have and hand out. Even Ofie did not dare tell her we were not permitted to give alms to pretend beggars.
“Very kind of you to come and explain,” Papá thanked her. He wanted to walk the
patrona
back home, but Mrs. Paquette wouldn't hear of it.
By this time Tío Felipe had joined us at the back door with Luby still sniffling in his arms. Somewhere in their dark walk to the back bedroom Luby had dropped her stuffed dog. So on
top of being scared, she didn't have her faithful puppy to protect her.
Abuelita, even after all of us realized that we had not been in danger, there was an uneasy feeling in our family. In those ten minutes of terror, we had been reminded that we were living on borrowed kindness and luck. Most of all I thought about our mother, perhaps this very night, ringing the doorbell of our old apartment in Carolina del Norte. Perhaps just as we had never opened to strangers, the new inhabitants would not open the door to her. All I could hope was that as she went back out on the street,
la migra
could not be sure if the woman with the long braids and dark skin was a real Mexican or someone pretending to be one. Just as the children begging for treats were not real beggars.
Abuelita, before I close and put my letter behind your picture in its frame, I want to ask you a favor. Just as you sent down your shower of light to let us know you are watching us, please look out for Mamá. Guide her steps to the apartment after Papá's friend from Las Margaritas has delivered the new phone number. Put some dollars in her hands so she can buy a phone card. Let her call when one of us is home to answer. Because if she does not come by next year, I will be the one going to our bedroom and taking my
new frame down from the dresser and placing Mamá alongside you on the altar for the Day of the Dead even if Ofie begs me please,
por favor,
not to.
Your blessing, Abuelita,
la bendición,
Mari
FARM OF MANY PLOTS“And thank you, dear Lord, for all the many blessings you have bestowed upon us,” Grandma prays before the Thanks-giving meal. Then she asks everyone to say one thing they are especially grateful for before they all begin to eat.
Tyler sees several glances going around the table. Every-one is no doubt thinking that the meal is not going to stay warm through that much thanksgiving.
Grandma begins by saying how she has so much to be thankful for. All her children and grandchildren are gathered together: Uncle Larry and Aunt Vicky and their three sons, Larry Jr., Vic, and Josh; Aunt Jeanne and her husband,
Uncle Byron, who teaches at the nearby college, and their twin daughters, Emma and Eloise; as well as Tyler's whole family. And—Grandma insisted—the three Marías and their father and two uncles.
“I don't know,” Uncle Larry said confidentially to Tyler's dad when he heard who all was at the back door. He hadn't invited his Mexicans. But no one wanted to raise a fuss with Grandma. This is going to be the first Thanksgiving without Gramps, so they're all poised for a lot of tears.
But everyone is pleasantly surprised by how upbeat Grandma is. Even though she mentions Gramps often, Grandma has not cried once. Mom's theory is that the three Mexican girls have filled her mother-in-law's life with com-pany and someone to care for. “She's never happy other-wise,” Mom has said, countering Aunt Jeanne's theory that Grandma is “losing touch with reality.”
A few weeks ago Aunt Jeanne dropped in and found Grandma alone in the garden, having a full- fledged conversation with Gramps! When Aunt Jeanne confronted her, Grandma made some lame excuse about how she was just praying out loud. Aunt Jeanne pretended to go along, but the seed of suspicion had been planted in her. Then the car accidents. Minor fender benders, but still. Grandma should not be driving. She should not be living alone.
The week preceding Thanksgiving, there has been a round of phone- calling. Plots and plans tossed back and forth. According to Aunt Jeanne, the family should intervene and insist that Grandma either come live with one of them or go into an assisted- living facility. Uncle Larry
thinks their mother is just fine. It's Aunt Jeanne who's the challenge. Ever since she majored in psychology in college, Aunt Jeanne's always finding problems to solve. Dad is un-sure, worried about his mother but inclined to agree with his brother that if something ain't broke, you don't fix it. “Or even worse,” Uncle Larry clinches it, “break it so you can fix it!”
All week Tyler has been overhearing his parents discussing “the Grandma problem.” What if Aunt Jeanne is right and something happens to Grandma? Maybe she should be persuaded to move in with one of her kids?
Tyler finally speaks up. “Grandma says she's only leaving home feetfirst.” Both his parents are startled to find him standing in the doorway. Mom goes from surprise to annoyance at Tyler's “bad habit of eavesdropping.” But it's not as if his house is posted with no listening signs! One thing Tyler knows for sure: if giving up the family farm would've killed his dad, moving Grandma out of her beloved home-stead will kill her even quicker, sad and old as she is.
But now that they're seated together at the big table, “the Grandma problem” seems forgotten. Everyone has con-tributed a dish or two, including the thirty- pound turkey Tyler's mom cooked in their oven and drove over, since she was so worried about a spill. Grandma has baked all the pies, and the Mexicans have brought over some refried beans and tortillas. Of course, Aunt Jeanne and Uncle Byron made an entrance with some fancy cheeses that are so smelly Tyler wouldn't get close to them, much less put them in his mouth.
They go around the table saying their thanks, the
slowpokes being urged with coughs to move along. By the time it's Tyler's turn, everyone is too hungry to listen to one more thank- you. Tyler doesn't have to say much—something else to be thankful for. “Thank you for my dad getting cured.” Next to him, his mom squeezes his hand gratefully.
The Marías and their father and uncles are all too shy to say anything. But after Mari translates what's being asked of the guests, her father says thank you to the Paquettes for making them feel like family. His two brothers chime in,
“Gracias.”
“We call it Día de Acción de Gracias,” Ofie tells the table.
“The Day of Saying Thank You,” Luby translates.
“Well, thank you and
gracias
to each and every one of you,” Grandma finally ends the round.
Before anybody can add anything else, Uncle Larry is carving up the turkey and telling everyone to hand over their plates before it's Christmas.
It's late by the time the meal is done and the Mexican workers head off for the evening milking. Mom convinces their father to let the three Marías stay a little longer. The two youngest have especially hit it off with the nine-year-old twins, who treat Luby and Ofie like real-life dolls, dressing them up in their hand-me-downs they brought in a bag. Meanwhile, Mari is busy helping Grandma with the dishes. “What a doll!” Aunt Vicky whispers to Tyler's mom, who agrees, “They all are.”
Tyler heads for the front room, where Ben and his dad and uncle and boy cousins are all watching the football
game. During a lull, Uncle Larry starts telling Dad how a pal in the sheriff's department dropped by to let him know that things are heating up for Mexicans in the area. Three were picked up just last week walking down the road to a milking barn. Two more were taken away after a trooper stopped them for speeding and the driver didn't have a license or a current registration for the used car he'd bought off another worker who'd left to go back to Mexico.
Tyler had stopped worrying about the Mexicans working on the farm, but, hearing Uncle Larry, he starts worrying again. Except that now he doesn't really want Mari and her family to go away. He wants the law to be changed so they can stay, helping his family as well as themselves.
“I tell Vicky, don't get too attached,” Uncle Larry is saying. “It's just a matter of time.”
“Did I hear my name being used in vain?” Aunt Vicky has come from the kitchen, where the cleaning up is winding down.
“Nothing, dear.” Uncle Larry motions toward the TV, where some tricky play is in progress. His team messes up, and he turns his attention back to his wife. “Just talking about our friend's visit from the sheriff's department.”
Aunt Vicky sinks into the arm of her husband's chair with a sigh. “I just don't see how we're expected to survive.”
Tyler's mom has joined them in the front room. “Where's Jeanne?” she asks. They all know Uncle Byron is in the small front parlor reading the
New York Times,
which he reads every day to keep up with the state of the world.
“You and Larry, two peas in a pod,” Aunt Vicky likes to say. Turns out Uncle Larry reads his weekly
Valley Voice
down to the classifieds. Every time Aunt Vicky says so, Uncle Byron's distinguished- professor eyebrows arch ever so slightly at the comparison.
“I think she went upstairs to check on the girls,” Aunt Vicky answers Mom. “They're in the attic playing dress- up. Did you see their little faces when they saw that bag of clothes?”
Mom nods, laughing. “I know. They think we're rich because we have stuff to throw away. And we
are
rich, compared. I tell you, having these Mexicans has put a whole new spin on our lives, hasn't it, sweetheart?” Mom beams at Dad, who looks uncomfortable but nods in agreement.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, ladies,” Uncle Larry says grimly. “Any day now, Homeland Security is going to pay us all a visit. I don't put it beyond them to just come on our property and haul them off.”
Tyler is shocked that his uncle, a reasonable adult, would think this is possible. But if he's shocked, it's nothing compared to Mari, who has just appeared at the door, the cleanup over.
“Folks,” Tyler's mother warns. But it's too late. Mari's face has tensed up with worry and fear, the way it gets when Mr. Bicknell starts talking about the future of the planet. “Honey, Uncle Larry was exaggerating,” his mom explains. “Weren't you, Uncle Larry?”
Tyler's uncle looks unsure, but then gazes toward the door, where Grandma has joined Mari, her old, spotted
hands on the young girl's shoulders. “Of course I was,” he says. “You know me,” he adds unconvincingly, “I'm one of those caught-a-big-fish kind of guys.”
“I'll say,” Aunt Vicky pipes up, and Uncle Larry pretends he thinks it's funny, too, when everyone—except Mari— bursts out laughing.
When Grandma goes up to check on the little girls, Aunt Jeanne, who has joined the group, closes the door.
“Larry, turn that thing off, will you.”
“For crying out loud!” Uncle Larry grumbles under his breath. He is the youngest of the three siblings. “I know just how you feel,” he has told Tyler. “We're the low men on the totem pole.” But Tyler can't say he has noticed. In fact, Uncle Larry is the bossiest of all his relatives. Well, sometimes Aunt Jeanne is a close second.
