Her face relaxed into a youthful smile. “Oh yes, honey. It most certainly is.”
“Next week, I want to talk to Betty about work again, and I’d like to go back to adult school this fall.”
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
As sounds of the shower water echoed down the hall, I settled back and swiveled the chair to the left, until, building momentum, Luz and I twirled in a full circle. Round and round we went until the room was spinning even once we stopped. Leaning back, I closed my eyes until things settled, and then opening them, I saw my father’s loving gaze, his hand resting on the curve of Diego’s shoulder. He looked both proud and content, clearly at peace with his choices in life. That letter would have been safely tucked away in his pocket, a reminder of what he had lost and why, of the sacrifices life sometimes demands, and the peace that can be found in acceptance.
I looked deep into the warm familiar eyes. “I love you, Papá,” I said, as Luz reached up and touched my cheek.
A few nights later, I heard my mother’s voice on the phone, small and soft, saying my name several times, “Alma, Alma, Alma.”
All I could respond was, “I’m sorry, lo siento,” to each sound of my name.
“Tell me,” she finally said, struggling to keep her voice even. “Tell me about Rosa? It is true? ¿Está muerta? Tell me.”
I could only weep and continue to beg for her forgiveness.
“No, no,” she said in a tight, high voice. “It is not your fault. I shouldn’t have let you go. I should have stopped you—two young girls. No, no, you are just a child yourself.” Then as if remembering, with a catch in her voice, she said, “A baby? ¿Una niñita?”
My heart burst and in a flood of words I said, “Oh Mamá, she is so beautiful! She is strong and loud and full of spirit!”
My mother laughed a soft trickle of warmth across the kilometers, “Just like you! So full of life. So independent. You needed no one, Alma—except your father’s undying approval.”
I could not speak.
“You are not alone? ¿Estás bien?” She hesitated, “Do you want to come home?”
Home. I looked about Berta’s purple room where I once again sought refuge to talk in privacy on Berta’s purple bedroom phone; Luz’s blanket in a heap where the three of us had napped earlier; photos of Berta with Diego neatly spaced along her dresser, and square in the center, a photo of Diego, Luz, and me, taken a month ago.
“It is good for Luz here, Mamá. And for me.” I paused. “I can go to adult school and work with Berta at the bakery.”
“School. That is good for you. You were always a good student.”
“And the boys? They’re okay?”
“Oh yes. They’ve asked about you often.” Her voice broke for a moment. “I must tell them . . . about Rosa . . . but they will be so happy about you and the baby.”
“Luz. Luz de Rosalba.”
“Luz de Rosalba,” she repeated softly. Then she added, “And Alma? I am . . . I am also going to have a baby.” Her voice sounded weary.
“¡Estupendo!” I tried to sound hopeful, then I remembered. “Wait. Weren’t you pregnant when we left?”
She was silent for a while, then softly, “I lost it. It wasn’t meant to be.”
I thought of her life with Tito and my heart ached. I wanted to give her some words of comfort, but I came up empty. Instead I said, “I have the Mendozas’ address now, so tell the boys I will write and send pictures and surprises.” And money, I thought, suddenly eager to return to work. Then with a bit of effort, “Te quiero, Mamá.”
Silence until I heard a muffled sob, then, “Yo también, Alma.”
My latest math problems, which I will number as if I still had my precious Math Journal.
Math Problem #7
The drive from Nogales, Arizona to Los Angeles, California, was 551.39 American miles.
If five of the seven passengers planned to drive an equal distance, how long would they each have to drive if they traveled at an average of 65 miles per hour?
Math Problem #8
Betty’s Bakery received the following order:
25 plain croissants @ $1.75
25 chocolate croissants @ $1.75
25 Napoleons @ $1.95
25 chocolate éclairs @ $1.95
25 brioches @ $1.85
Compute the total cost in American dollars and cents.
Then compute the change for this purchase if given two $100 bills and a $50 bill. (Explain what American bills and coins you would choose as change.)
*Do not use a calculator! It’s important to keep your basic skills sharp!
Math Problem #9
A recipe for Berta’s Sugarbaby Cookies calls for ½ kg of sugar. How many times can she make these cookies before she uses up a 6 kg bag of sugar?
18
Dolores
About one month after I learned about Berta’s letter and confronted the reality of my father’s most likely death, another tragedy of horrific proportions stopped us all in our tracks: 9/11. That morning, as I clutched Luz to my chest, I sat cross-legged in front of the TV and watched the horrors unfold. How much cruelty and senselessness was there in this world? I found myself sinking again, only this time I wasn’t alone. Everyone, everywhere, was feeling the depths of this despair. Strangers on the bus would nod in acknowledgment of the grief we shared. Even Luz seemed more subdued. I struggled to get my momentum back, but I felt weighed down by so much sadness.
Then one evening, Berta pointed out a photo of Dolores Huerta in the newspaper. She had attended a prayer vigil at La Placita in downtown Los Angeles honoring the victims of 9/11. I grabbed the paper and stared at her familiar face. Knowing that she had recovered from her aneurysm and was well enough to venture out into the
