When I Was Puerto Rican - Esmeralda Santiago [78]
“Sí.” I growled.
“Aren’t you going to ask him in?” She was as cheerful as a sparrow, while I wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth in one gulp.
“Come in,” I mumbled and raced up the porch steps.
He sat on the sofa, silent and dignified, while Mami fed him crackers and lemonade. My sisters and brothers casually arranged themselves around the room, pretending to read or play jacks while keeping an eye on everything that went on. I wanted to swat them away like flies.
“I know some Vélezes in Bayamón,” Mami said. “And there are some in Caguas.” I bet there were Vélezes in every single town of the island. But she acted as if she knew them all.
“My family is from Ponce, but my dad is stationed at the Roosevelt Base.”
“Oh.” She was impressed. His father was a military man with a steady job.
“Where did you get such a funny name?” I asked, evil as the radio vixens.
His chocolate skin reddened. Mami glared at me. My sisters and brothers stifled giggles.
“I ... I guess my Dad chose it.... I was born in Kentucky.”
“Kentucky!” Mami murmured. An American as my first suitor!
“There’s a Johannes-burgh in South Africa. Is that what you’re named after, a city?”
The kids laughed, and Johannes bit his lip.
“Negi,” Mami commanded, “come into the kitchen a minute.”
As soon as we were on the other side of the wall she grabbed my arm. “You’re being very rude to your friend!”
“He’s not my friend. I didn’t ask him to come. He just showed up.”
“Well, he’s here, and you must treat him with respect. Now get in there and behave like a proper señorita.”
“All the kids are watching.... They’ll make fun of me.”
“See if he wants to go outside. Show him your gardenia bush or something. I’ll keep the kids here.... Wait a minute.” She moistened a rag and wiped my face and neck. “Scrub those grimy hands before you go.”
We went back to the living room, where Johannes sat examining Héctor’s new red and yellow top.
“Wanna see a tree?” I asked. Mami rolled her eyes.
We stepped into the yard, trailed by Delsa, Norma, Hector, Alicia, Edna, and Raymond. “You kids stay with me!” Mami called.
“I have to get my marbles!” Raymond wailed.
“Get them later. Come in here now.”
I led Johannes to the creek, away from the house but within view of Mami who would be watching.
“Your mother is very nice,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help myself. He was the cutest boy in seventh grade, and I liked him. But every time I opened my mouth, something nasty came out, as if the part of me that spoke was different from the part of me that felt. I tried to remember what soap opera heroines said to their lovers, but I couldn’t compare this boy in shorts and knee socks to the manly Ricardos and Armandos. And I was no heroine. Not in my faded dress and worn shoes.
We stood by the creek, Johannes telling me about his dad’s work as a sergeant in the army, the many places he’d lived, how they were moving again, to Colorado. But I didn’t want to hear any of that. I wanted to hear a man’s soft voice telling me I was beautiful, that he would love me forever, that life would mean nothing without me. I tuned in to the creek’s gurgle, imagining a pristine river on a deserted island, its shore lined with orchids and gardenias, with birds warbling sweet melodies. I wanted to dance to this music in my head, but when I took a step, I tumbled into the creek with a wild splash. Johannes stood on the bank, stupefied. I fought the sucking mud and crawled out like some prehistoric creature from an ancient lagoon just as Mami and my sisters and brothers came running.
“You’d better go home now,” I told Johannes through my tears. The last I saw of him was his straight back convulsed in laughter, his khaki pants and knee socks spattered with mud.
Mami took Edna and Raymond to buy shoes, and I sat on the porch reading a Corin Tellado romance instead of watching my sisters and brother, who disappeared whenever I was in charge.