Life, After Read online

  “I’m really good with numbers,” Sari said. “I’m one of the best in my class. Maybe I can help you.”

  I hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe. But first, let’s have a cup of tea to keep us going.”

  As I headed to the stove to put the kettle on, I prayed that the gas hadn’t been cut off, too.

  There was more fighting after we’d gone to bed—but this time Mamá was really shouting.

  “Eduardo, how long can this go on? Today, no electricity. Tomorrow, no gas. Next thing we can’t afford the rent, and then we’re out on the streets. Is that what you want for us? We have an opportunity to get out—we must take it!”

  “But, Estela…”

  “No buts, Eduardo. I’ve watched my children go hungry for long enough. I won’t see them homeless, too. I’m going to call Jacobo collect tonight, like he says in the letter, and tell him to make the arrangements for us to come to America. Stay here if you like, Eduardo, but I’m taking the girls somewhere where we have an opportunity for a better life.”

  I let out a gasp from my eavesdropping spot behind the bedroom door. I couldn’t believe my mother actually threatened to go without Papá. I couldn’t believe that we were actually going to leave Argentina, where I’d lived my whole life. That we were going to America. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened.

  “You would leave me?” Papá said, sounding angry but also completely taken aback, like he couldn’t believe what his ears had just heard. “Are you actually threatening to leave me, Estela, after…after all these years…after two children…after…everything we’ve been through together?”

  I heard him take a deep breath.

  “Are you asking me for a divorce?”

  His voice shook slightly as he asked the question, and I realized he was scared, deathly scared, that Mamá might say yes. I was holding my breath, too, waiting to hear her answer.

  “Eduardo, el amor de mi vida, of course I don’t want a divorce,” Mamá said, a tremor in her voice. “I want us to go to America together, the two of us and our girls, together as a family, so things will be better for us. I’m just desperate. Things can’t go on the way they are now. I’ve been thinking about this, over and over, and this is the only way out. The situation here deteriorates every day. Look at us, sitting here in the twenty-first century with no electricity. If we’re going to be doing things by candlelight, I want it to be because we’re having a romantic evening, not because we can’t afford the electric bill. Can’t you understand that, mi amor?”

  “I don’t know what has come over you, Estela,” Papá said, his voice icy. “You’ve changed. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. My Stella wouldn’t make threats like this.”

  “Maybe your Stella hadn’t reached the point of desperation. Maybe your Stella is tired of seeing her husband behaving like he’s given up.”

  “How dare you!” Papá shouted.

  “Don’t even think about raising a hand to me, Eduardo, or it will be divorce,” Mamá said.

  I jumped up, ready to go out and protect Mamá, but Papá said, “I’m going for a walk,” and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  I heard Mamá weeping softly in the living room as I tried to go to sleep.

  Papá was still asleep when I left for school the next morning. I didn’t know what time he’d returned, but Mamá had deep circles under her eyes, as if she’d stayed awake all night waiting for him.

  “Dani, you’ll have to pick up Sarita today, because my shift doesn’t end until seven,” Mamá said. “And can you stop at the food bank at the synagogue and get some more food? We’re running very low and I don’t get paid till next week. Just don’t say anything to your father.”

  No park with Roberto, I thought. But looking at the worry on Mamá’s face, how could I possibly complain?

  It was raining when I got out of school and I’d forgotten to bring an umbrella, so my uniform was wet and sticking to my skin by the time I got to Sarita’s school to pick her up.

  “Hola, Dani!” Sari called, skipping over to me. “Can we go to the playground on the way home? Please! Mamá’s always too tired and I want to go on the swings.”

  “Not today, Sari.”

  “Pretty please?”

  “No. We have to go to the synagogue, to the food bank.”

  She looked so disappointed that I felt bad. It wasn’t like Sari had so many treats.

  “Anyway, it’s raining. You don’t want to go on the swings in the rain, silly! How about I take you the next time the sun is shining?”

  “You promise?”

  “Tel lo juro,” I said, kissing my index finger twice, which brought a smile back to Sari’s face.

  The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time we reached the synagogue, but my heart sank because there was a long line outside the door. We weren’t the only hungry Jews in Villa Crespo.

  Sari was whining about being hungry and cold before we’d even waited ten minutes. I tried distracting her with tongue twisters: “Say ‘Tres tristes tigres comen trigo en un trigal’ three times fast.”

  Sari’s tongue got caught up on that one and she ended up in helpless giggles. I started her on “Pepe pela papas pero pocas porque pisa pocas papas.” But I was starting to shiver myself. All I could think of were dry clothes and a hot cup of tea. I cursed myself for forgetting my umbrella, and hoped that Sari wouldn’t get sick, because we wouldn’t be able to afford the medicine to make her better.

  By the time we got inside, Sari’s teeth were chattering.

  “You look cold, señorita. Would you like some hot chocolate?” one of the volunteers asked.

  Sari nodded so hard her wet curls sent a spray of raindrops onto the floor.

  “How about your big sister?” the volunteer asked, looking at me.

  “Sí, gracias.”

  While we waited for our food parcel, she brought us two Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. It was only lukewarm, but it tasted so good that I almost cried from the pleasure of it.

  “Your clothes are soaking wet,” the volunteer said, clucking as she felt the sleeve of Sari’s wet uniform blazer. “What size are you both? We just got a shipment of clothing donations from abroad and there are some lovely things that might fit you. Let me take a look.”

  Sarita’s eyes lit up at the prospect of new clothes, but I immediately thought of how we were supposed to explain them to Papá.

  “Sari, even if she finds something, we can’t wear it home,” I warned her in a low voice.

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not.”

  Sari’s lower lip stuck out, and I could see I was in for trouble. I couldn’t argue, though, because another volunteer returned with our food box.

  “What’s in there? Are there any cookies? Can I have something now?” Sari asked.

  I looked through the box and found some crackers. Sari was munching on them when the first lady came back with a small bag of clothing.

  “Here, take these. Why don’t you go into the servicio and get changed so you don’t catch cold?”

  Sari was pulling clothes out of the bag and jumping up and down with excitement.

  “Look, Dani! Look at this dress! It’s so pretty! And this sweater! And look…some jeans for you. I’m going to get changed right now!”

  I thanked the volunteer for her kindness, picked up the food box, and then dragged Sari over to the door.

  “Sarita, I told you we can’t go home dressed in new clothes. Papá will go crazy. You know how he is about taking charity. He’s not supposed to even know we came here.”

  Sari stamped her foot. “I don’t care about what Papá thinks. I’m cold and I want to wear my new clothes.”

  She glared up at me defiantly, and I was too tired and cold to fight her. Plus, I’d seen the pair of jeans in my size and it seemed like forever since I’d worn anything new, or even secondhand new.

  “Okay. You win.”

  Sari threw
her arms around my waist.

  “I love you, Dani!”

  We changed in the bathroom. Sari looked adorable in her new dress, and I felt wonderful in my new jeans and shirt. I had the rest of the walk home to figure out something to tell Papá.

  “Be quiet when we get home,” I warned Sari. “Maybe Papá will be sleeping.”

  We crept into the apartment, as quietly as we could. I hoped I could put the food away and get into our room to change before we encountered our father, but as Sari and I snuck into the kitchen, I heard “Daniela? Sarita? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Papá,” I called back.

  I heard his footsteps coming from the living room, and quickly shoved the food box into the cupboard. But there was no way to hide our new clothes, or the bag containing our wet school uniforms.

  He walked into the darkened kitchen and stopped, staring at Sarita in her dress.

  “What is this?” he said, glaring at me. “Why aren’t you in your school uniforms? And where did you get those clothes?”

  “We got caught in the rain on the way home and I’d forgotten my umbrella,” I said, giving Sari a “play along with me” look. “Our uniforms were soaked and I was worried about Sari catching cold, so I stopped at Sofia’s place and borrowed some clothes. She has a sister Sari’s age.”

  Sofia didn’t have a little sister at all—she had an older brother. But I was hoping Papá wouldn’t remember.

  “Why didn’t you just come straight home? I was worried because you were late,” Papá said.

  Of all the days for Papá to be awake and worrying instead of depressed and sleeping the afternoon away. Just my luck.

  “I just thought…with the rain…and Sari…I didn’t want her to get sick.”

  As if on cue, Sari sneezed loudly.

  “Cover your mouth!” Papá chided. He gave me a long look. “Well, make sure you return the clothes to Sofia after Mamá washes them.”

  Thankfully, he turned his back to leave before he saw the look of horror on Sari’s face.

  “We don’t have to give them back, do we?” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry, Sari. I’ll think of a way for us to keep them.”

  I started to make dinner at seven, so that it would be ready by the time Mamá got home from work at seven thirty. But by eight o’clock she still wasn’t home. We were sitting in the candlelight, getting more and more hungry, wondering where she was. Papá tried calling the hospital, to see if she’d been asked to stay late.

  “I see. What? I’m sorry, our television isn’t working, so…” His face paled. “¡Ay! I see…Please call me right away if you hear anything. Gracias.”

  “Papá, what is it?” I asked, as soon as he’d hung up the phone.

  “There’s a big antigovernment demonstration going on near the hospital,” he said. “Your mother might be caught up in it and…they say it’s turned violent. People are breaking windows and looting stores. It’s on the news, but we can’t get the news because…” He punched the wall and shouted, “We don’t have any goddamn electricity!”

  I felt sick, thinking of Mamá surrounded by an angry mob.

  “I want Mami,” Sarita cried. “When is she coming home?”

  “Let’s go read a story,” I said. “Maybe by the time we’re finished, Mamá will be home.”

  I read Sari a story by candlelight, and still Mamá wasn’t back.

  “When will Mamá be home?” Sari whined. “You said she’d be home after the story!”

  “I said maybe she’d be home, not definitely. Look, why don’t we have some dinner, and maybe while we’re doing the dishes, Mamá will come through the door,” I told Sari.

  We sat picking at a dinner that, despite our hunger, none of us even wanted, waiting for the sound of Mamá’s footsteps on the stairs. I told Sari to take the flashlight and go start running her bath while Papá called the hospital again. They still hadn’t heard from Mamá.

  “I’m going to go out and look for her,” Papá said. “You stay here with Sarita.”

  “But what happens if you get lost, too?” I said, panicked.

  “I can’t just wait here, knowing she’s out there with a riot going on, Dani,” Papá said. “Something could have happened. She could be…hurt. I need to find her.”

  “But…”

  Just then, we heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. We both rushed to the front door and there was Mamá. Her uniform was ripped and her face was bruised. She had a cut on her forehead and dried blood streaked her face.

  “D-os mío, Estela!” Papá exclaimed, pulling her into his arms.

  I hugged her, sandwiching her between Papá and me. I wanted just to touch her, to reassure myself that she was really there.

  “Mamá, are you okay? What happened?”

  “Let her sit down, Dani. And go make your mamá a cup of tea, with lots of sugar.”

  “Mami!!!!!” Sari came running to the door, and then saw the blood on Mamá’s face and started crying. “Mami, what happened to you?”

  She clung to Mamá’s waist as if she would never let go.

  Mamá stroked Sari’s hair, and after detaching her from her waist, moved slowly toward the couch in the living room, as if each step pained her, with Sarita still gripping tightly to her hand. She sat down with a grimace and Sari cuddled up next to her.

  “Dani, don’t just stand there. I told you to make tea!” Papá said.

  I’d been standing there, paralyzed: relieved that Mamá was home but terrified by the sight of her bruised, bloodied face. I headed into the kitchen and put the kettle on, and while I was waiting for it to boil, went to the bathroom for the first aid kit and some towels. I filled up a bowl with warm water and brought it to the living room, where Papá took the towels and gently started to wash the blood from Mamá’s face.

  When the tea was ready, I put in three heaping teaspoons of sugar, even though we hardly had any left, and brought it out to my mother.

  “It was crazy, Eduardo,” she was telling Papá. “I came out of the hospital and was waiting for the bus…At first, it was just a peaceful demonstration, the usual cacerolazo, with pots and pans and shouting. I wasn’t worried, just annoyed because the bus would be delayed. But then…out of nowhere things started to get violent. People were throwing rocks through store windows and looting…just taking things, Eduardo, like common criminals…One of the rocks hit me in the head…I fell…People were stepping on me…”

  Sari was crying softly, “Mami…Mami…,” her face buried in Mamá’s lap. My father’s face was grim. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of my mother being trampled by a crowd of angry rioters.

  “One man was kind enough to help me to my feet. I…should have gone back to the hospital but…” Mamá broke down, finally, and wept, her head bent over Sarita’s dark curls. “I wanted…I needed…to be here…at home…” She looked up at Papá with tear-filled eyes. “With you.”

  Papá touched Mamá’s cheek, gently, as if he were afraid she would break.

  “Dani, take Sari and get her ready for bed,” he said. “And you need to finish your homework. You both have school in the morning.”

  Sari didn’t want to let go of Mamá, but Papá gave her a stern glance.

  In the tub, the darkened bathroom lit only by a flashlight, Sari sat clutching her knees. “Why, Dani? Why would people hurt Mamá like that?”

  “I don’t think anyone meant to hurt Mamá. They were just desperate and angry and hungry and she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Sari looked smaller than her seven years, naked and skinny in the bathtub, but when she raised her eyes to me they contained more anguish than a young child should ever suffer.

  “I’m scared, Dani. Everything…everything is making me scared.”

  I held open a towel for her, and when she got out of the bath I wrapped her in my arms and hugged her for a long time.

  “Me too, Sari. Me too.”

  Mamá had to read Sari two
stories before she would go to sleep, and while she was doing that, I ran Mamá a hot bath so she could wash off the rest of the dirt and blood.

  When Mamá was in her dressing gown, she sat with her arm around me on the sofa for a while, until it was time for me to go to sleep. The image of people stepping on her kept replaying itself in my mind, filling me with fear and anger.

  “What will we do, Mamá?” I asked her.

  I saw her glance over at Papá. He refused to meet her gaze.

  “Don’t worry, Dani,” Mamá said. “Your father and I will make a decision for what is best.”

  Her voice was firm and decisive, despite everything she’d been through that evening, and I wondered if it meant that she’d decided to take us to America and leave Papá behind.

  “Go to bed now, Dani. It’s late, and Papá and I need to talk.”

  I kissed her, and said good night to my father. But I didn’t get into bed. I sat behind the bedroom door and listened.

  “So, Eduardo? Have you had a chance to think?”

  There was silence, and I wished I could see the expressions on my parents’ faces. Suddenly, I heard a strange, harsh sound coming from the living room.

  “Eduardo, hush, everything is going to be okay,” I heard Mamá’s voice crooning softly.

  Shocked, I realized it was the sound of my father sobbing.

  “I can’t lose you, Estela,” Papá wept. “You’re everything to me.”

  “Shhhhhh,” Mamá said.

  “When you were missing…when I thought something might have happened to you…it would have been the end of me, querida.”

  “I’m fine, Eduardo. Well, I’ve got a few cuts and bruises, but really, I’m all right.”

  “But you could have been seriously hurt.” Papá let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You win, Estela,” he said, his voice soft and broken. “I can’t fight you anymore. We will go to America.”

  “Oh, Eduardo!” Mamá said. It sounded like she’d started to cry again, but this time it wasn’t from being sad. “This is the right thing. I know it.”