Pig Park Read online

  “We were just conducting quality control. Checking the thing out to make sure it’s sound,” Josefina said to Felix. She rapped on the metal with her knuckles.

  “You better not tell anyone, man,” Marcos said. Josefina elbowed him. He coughed a little. She gave him the kind of look that would silence a pack of barking dogs.

  “From where I’m standing, there’s nothing to tell,” Felix said.

  “We were supposed to be home by nine-thirty.” Josefina tapped on her watch.

  “Me too,” I mumbled.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Felix said.

  “Let’s all walk together,” Marcos said.

  “We’re going in the opposite direction, Marcos,” Josefina said. She dragged Marcos away by the elbow.

  Felix stuck his hands in his pocket. I speed-walked in the direction of the bakery. Felix followed close at my side.

  “You’re probably wondering what I was doing out here,” he said. He looked at me with his cat eyes, and I felt that strange thing again. It was like a pair of wings stretched inside my ribcage and fluttered. I pursed my lips tight—hoping to keep my insides from flying out. When I did open my mouth, nothing came out—not my insides and not a word. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “I wanted to get a better look at the fireworks, so I walked over. Then I heard voices, so I came to check. You guys found the best view of all,” Felix continued for me.

  “Hmm, we thought we were being quiet.”

  “You were. Relatively. I just happened to be listening closely.”

  “You were bored.”

  “Not at all. Jorge Peregrino has been keeping me busy working on some things. But it’s not like much happens where I’m from. There’s nothing there but chile pepper fields as far as the eye can see. I have to drive an hour or more just to go to a movie theater. I’m not complaining. I love home, but it just is.”

  “Pig Park used to have its own fireworks.” In the good old days, the American Lard Company had splurged for a small fireworks display in the parking lot.

  “Things will turn around.”

  “They will,” I said. I wanted to believe it as much as ever. I looked out into the valley of empty buildings. I refused to buy into Josefina’s earlier proclamation about just leaving. I stopped in front of the bakery. “This is me.”

  “I know that. I’ve been here, remember?”

  “It’s late. I should go in. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Masi.”

  I don’t know why I looked at his mouth, but when I did the world around us stopped.

  He had…

  masa lips,

  textured with fingerprints,

  soft as if molded,

  soft like warm rolls,

  probably soft to kiss…

  The heat rose to my face for what I was thinking. The truth was that if fifth-grade dares didn’t count, then I’d never kissed anyone before. Josefina had dared Marcos to kiss me—or eat ten giant jalapeños. Marcos hated jalapeños. The kiss had been quick, and I hadn’t even closed my eyes.

  But this wasn’t about Marcos for a change.

  I wanted to be invisible more than ever. I hurried inside and locked the door. I ran to my room where I was free to think about anything I wanted to. I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. I thought about Felix and his soft, soft lips.

  Chapter 14

  “Harrumph,” Felix cleared his throat and stepped through the front door. He pushed a pair of thick black plastic reading glasses onto his face.

  He tucked a notebook under one arm and a red mechanical pencil behind his ear. He extended his free hand out to my dad in the way people were supposed to at job interviews.

  “Masi.” Felix nodded at me. I nodded back.

  “Masi,” my dad said. I nodded again. “Masi,” my dad repeated.

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Go get Felix a chair.”

  I pulled out a folding chair from the utility closet, and Felix sat down. “Sir,” he said.

  “What can we do for you this morning, Felix?” my dad asked.

  “I’m walking door to door to see how I can help each family prepare for the visitors Dr. Vidales Casal promised.”

  “Where should we start?”

  “We can start with a few questions. I’m sort of figuring it out as we go.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Is your family already doing anything in particular to prepare?”

  My dad frowned and his jaw clenched. “Just trying to get by so we can stay open long enough to see it happen.”

  Felix laughed. “Well, that is certainly important.”

  My dad’s facial muscles relaxed. “Ok. Wait, before we continue. Please have some bread.”

  I handed Felix a paper plate with a conch on it. The way he devoured the last one, I assumed it was the way to go. Felix tore off large pieces and stuffed them into his mouth. “Okay. First question: how do you make the bread, sir?” he asked with his mouth full.

  “Depends which kind.”

  “How long does it take to make the bread?”

  “That also depends.”

  “How much does it cost to make it?”

  “Too much.”

  “How much money do you guys make on a daily basis?”

  “Not enough.”

  Felix had more questions than the PSAT. Except some of the questions seemed to cross the line into the personal. My dad didn’t act put off. He smiled through the bombardment.

  “Can I see the bakery’s kitchen, sir?” Felix asked.

  “Sure. Come on back and have a look.” We followed him into the kitchen. My dad showed Felix the pantry, our kitchenware, and the clunker of an oven. He pulled a sack of flour onto the counter. He opened the refrigerator and took out eggs, milk, and butter. Before long, Felix and my dad were up to their elbows in flour. My dad made talking to Felix look easy.

  “How old are you, Felix?” my dad asked.

  “Just turned seventeen, sir. I’ll be a sophomore in college next fall.”

  “You are a very smart boy, so young and already your second year in college.”

  “I skipped fourth and fifth grade. Studying in Dr. Vidales Casal’s program will help me finish even earlier. It’s an incredible opportunity in many ways. Dr. Vidales Casal built the Zochimilco of Minnesota and the Antigua of California. His ideas have traveled the world: the former Soviet Union, Cuba, Venezuela, Germany, Italy, China and more.”

  “He sounds like an adventurous man.”

  “Yes. I’d like to travel someday too. But this is my very first time across state lines.”

  “Were your parents okay with you coming here by yourself?”

  “It’s just me and my mom.”

  He reached out and patted Felix on the shoulder, leaving a flour print on his shirt. “You and I are not so different, Felix. Growing up, it was just me and Mother too. I left her so I could do something better.” The way he said it made me feel sorry.

  It was all elbows in the kitchen. I squeezed past my dad and made my way back into the front room. I plopped down at the counter next to my mom. She was tracking the bakery accounts on the family laptop. I didn’t need to watch to know how bad it was. We were lucky to have what we had. I was lucky to have two parents, no matter the rest. It made me feel even sorrier.

  “I’m tired,” my mom said after a long while. She went upstairs. I stayed behind and waited for the kitchen to clear out so I could finish my chores.

  Felix walked into the room, took a cup and filled it with water from a pitcher. I pretended to type on the laptop.

  “So I guess business is bad for everybody,” Felix said.

  “Yeah.” It didn’t take much to figure that out.

  “It’ll pick up. La Gran Pirámide will help. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so,” I said. We were having the same conversation again. I couldn’t think of anything new to say.

  He glanced at me sideways. He moved closer. That thing inside me fl
uttered again. I held my breath for one potato, two potatoes. Felix put his cup on the counter with a stretch and a yawn.

  “I’ll be back in a few days,” he said. He flashed his beautiful teeth and waved goodbye. My shoulders sagged. I wanted to talk to him some more. I wanted him to stay.

  Chapter 15

  “Masi.” I followed my mom’s voice and climbed down the stairs that wrapped into the basement. “Masi, come here for a second,” she said.

  I didn’t go into the basement much. I hated how small and humid it was. Except for the humidity, it wasn’t at all like Colonel Franco’s. It only ran about one third of the length of the bakery—no carpeting or linoleum, just concrete. There were pipes everywhere overhead which made the ceiling low. Our furnace sat at the heart.

  Several dusty shelves and miscelleanous boxes lined three of the walls. A washer/dryer sat against the fourth wall with an industrial-sized two-door cabinet on one side and my dad’s work bench on the other.

  My eyes roamed. I spotted a great big pair of goat horns sticking out from behind a stack of boxes. I pushed the boxes aside and uncovered a pair of bicycle handlebars covered with white electrical tape. The handlebars were attached to a blue ten-speed bike—a relic. I ran my hand over it. “Nice, right? That used to be my bike,” my mom said.

  I turned around to look at her. She sat on the floor in front of a big red wooden box whose outside had splintered over the years. I stared. “This is my box of memories and heirlooms,” she said. “Hand me one of your dad’s screwdrivers. A flathead.”

  I grabbed a screwdriver from my dad’s work bench—there were tools everywhere—and handed it over. My mom pushed the screwdriver into the top edge of the box and pried the lid off.

  I leaned in. The inside was padded with a thin velvet-like material that cradled the contents. A large book covered in a plastic bag lay at the very top. My mom picked it up. “What is that?” I asked.

  “A photo album. Your grandmother wants me to get her some pictures. She had some water damage during the last big storm out there. She lost a lot of her things from the old furniture store.” My grandparents had owned a furniture store on the south side of the park when my mom was my age. She’d worked there as a showroom girl. My grandparents picked up and moved right after my mom married my dad. Pig Park was at its prime, and they’d done well with the sale. They lived over a thousand miles away in Texas now.

  My mom tore the plastic bag off the album and flipped through it. She turned page after page. She paused at a picture of herself in a cap and gown. She held it up for me to see. “It’s my high school graduation picture. Seems like a hundred years ago. Your grandfather wanted me to go to school to become an accountant.”

  “I didn’t know that. What happened?”

  “Life happened. I had other plans. I fell in love. I wanted a family.” She closed the album and hugged it to herself. “I’m tired,” she said. She got up and walked upstairs.

  I leaned against my dad’s bench. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. Most kids just grew up to work for their parents or some factory. My parents always said they just wanted me to be happy. I couldn’t help wondering if my mom had secretly wanted to be an accountant too or if that was really just my grandfather’s dream. It was probably better not to ask. Maybe my dad and I had gotten in my mom’s way…

  Chapter 16

  “Let’s go over to Peregrino’s,” Josefina said. I didn’t know if she was serious. We had never been inside Peregrino’s warehouse, and neither one of us was in the market for bulk whey protein.

  “What for?” I asked.

  “That’s why.” She pointed at a tanker-sized black SUV making its way down the street in front of us. Our reflections disappeared in a whirlpool of chrome as its rims spun by.

  “Jeez.” While Peregrino was the only person in Pig Park who could afford a car like that, everyone knew that he drove the warehouse van for the tax write-off. “It’s not his car.”

  “I’m ninety-eight percent sure it was headed straight for his warehouse. Who else has rich friends?”

  “Okay,” I said. But I didn’t care about the SUV. Felix was staying with Peregrino, and I just wanted to see him again.

  Josefina and I walked to the warehouse. I hesitated going through the door. I hated being so obvious. Josefina grabbed my arm and pulled me into the building anyway.

  The front room was jam-packed with boxes. They started in the hallway and sprawled out into the interior. I glanced down. Some of boxes lay open. They weren’t filled with vitamins. They were crammed with clay suns and moons in various colors. There were statues of La Muerte and countless artisan skeleton figurines—riding bicycles, making dinner and walking skeleton dogs. There were also enough decorative vases and candles for Peregrino to convert his vitamin empire into a pottery store.

  Felix sat at the front desk reading a book.

  “What’s with all the pottery?” I got to the bottom of the matter right away.

  “It’s just stuff my classmate brought back,” Felix said.

  Josefina arched a thick eyebrow. I think she was excited at the idea of a whole band of college boys. “Is that who the fancy car belongs to?” she asked.

  “Yes. The truck belongs to my schoolmate. Come back and say hello.” Felix waved us over to a nearby door.

  A hallway connected the room to a lofted section of the warehouse. It didn’t feel like we were standing inside the same large metal building. There were beautiful wood floors, tall ceilings, fancy countertops and shiny steel appliances. It was as nice as anything in those circulars my mom got in the mail.

  Josefina jabbed her elbow into me. “I guess Peregrino sold his soul a long time ago. Look at this place.” She let out a soft whistle.

  I couldn’t help thinking the same thing. It was like in that movie The Devil and Daniel Webster. What did it take to get stuff that nice while everyone else was having such a hard time? Maybe it was luck—as simple as buying a lotto ticket and crossing your fingers. Or maybe you just had to pray hard enough. I pictured Peregrino sitting in his living room with thousands of lit candles, so it was nothing but fire and wax as far as the eye could see. He prayed so hard, he broke into a sweat. Then I imagined all those burning candles sending all those boxes of dieter’s tea and cod liver oil tablets up in smoke. I concluded that probably wasn’t how he’d gotten rich. Maybe people really did just sell their souls.

  “Girls, meet Belinda. She’s staying with an aunt of hers up north,” Felix said. A plain thin girl with freckles and blonde hair jumped up from behind the boxes wearing an embroidered linen dress and flip-flops.

  Josefina’s eyebrows sunk into a half-face frown. My face wasn’t doing anything better. Of course, neither of us had expected that the classmate would be a “her.”

  “Belinda, Masi and Josefina live in the neighborhood. They’re helping build La Gran Pirámide,” Felix said.

  A smile sprawled onto Belinda’s face like a lazy cat. Her face transformed. I inhaled. That sprawling smile bore witness to the power of perfect teeth. When Belinda smiled, she was beautiful.

  “Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Belinda asked. She pushed a tray of lemonade-filled glasses towards us. Silver and turquoise bracelets dangled from both her wrists. “It’s really good. It’s made with key limes. I brought those with me too.”

  Josefina grabbed a glass and sipped. She stared at Belinda. Belinda smiled again and even laughed a little.

  “I’m in town making deliveries for Dr. Vidales Casal,” Belinda said. Her laughter wove through each sentence as if in a loop. “I’m also looking at real estate.”

  Felix’s cat eyes sliced at her like she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Belinda laughed again and charged on. She couldn’t seem to stop herself. “With so little demand, there are really great deals out here.”

  “You’re buying buildings? Boy, you must have tons of money. You must be rich like Jorge Peregrino,” Josefina said.

  “No.
” Felix interrupted.

  “My great old uncle died,” Belinda said. Her laugh got even loopier. I couldn’t tell if she was kidding.

  “What’s all the stuff in the boxes for then?”

  “These girls have better things to do than spend their afternoon here. Come on, girls, I’ll walk you out,” Felix interrupted.

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Heat ran down my shoulder and up my spine. His other arm grabbed hold of Josefina. I blinked. There was no time to open my mouth again. We were outside like some kind of magic trick. He walked us all the way to the grocery store, humming softly.

  I forgot all about Belinda—and even Josefina. I pretended it was just him and me. We walked to the grocery store and stopped. Felix excused himself and disappeared.

  “He sure got rid of us fast. I guess he wanted to make sure we didn’t stick around, spying through the windows or something,” Josefina said. “I mean what do we really know about him anyway?”

  “Come on.” I didn’t know that much, but I liked the way I felt around him. That’s all I needed to know for now.

  “I’m just saying.”

  I tuned her out. I sat on the Nowak’s stairs and wondered what the devil would want in exchange for a kiss from Felix.

  Chapter 17

  The drawers knocked around. The sound was not beautiful. The knocking stopped. I dressed myself and walked into the kitchen.

  My mom sat at the table with her hands clutched together tight in her lap. My dad grabbed a plate of toast with marmalade from the counter. He walked over to his armchair. He sat down. He raised the plate to his mouth, pushed half a slice in and crunched away.

  “Gooooool!” The Univision sports reporter entered endless o mode until a commercial came on.

  Something was off. It was the silence. My parents weren’t shy about letting each other have it. When I was younger, they’d fought over dumb things like the lyrics of a pop song or what to make for dinner. When the Amerian Lard Company closed down, the real arguments started. But they always worked it out.