San Isabel Lies
Guess who’s Not Coming to Dinner
The Hatfields hated the McCoys, the Verduzcos hate the Cossios. Feuds know no boundaries so you won’t be surprised to learn that in this little
village of San Isabel they flare up from time to time; some over blood and pride, others over not-so-subtle social issues.
Carlos Verduzco grabbed a beer, sat down on the couch, got up again and turned off the T.V. Olivia Verduzco was ironing. She stopped, set the iron
down and turned to face her husband.
Olivia said “Victoria is late. If you’re wondering why she stays away from the house, won’t look at us, stays in her room, she’s scared and
embarrassed.”
“Who is it?”
“You know who it is. That skinny Manuel Cossio she spends all her time with.”
Carlos took a long drink from the beer can, set the can down and stared for the longest time at the pattern on the plaster above the T.V. “She can’t
keep it. We are too damned old to raise another child. We don’t have the money, there’s no work for her here….”
“You’re crazy if you think she will give it up. If we don’t let her keep it, she’ll just leave. How would you like that, not knowing where she was, if
she was dead or alive, barely 17 years old? You know about the fish. You know nothing of young girls. They want cute little baby girls to spoil and
cuddle and dress up. They care little for clumsy schoolboys”
Before Olivia could say any more the fisherman marked the time at 1:30; plenty of time to consult with El Presidente on the beach before Victoria got
out of school at 3:00. He bought a liter of Tecate, drove to the beach, opened the other short bottle of sweet burning courage and began to prepare
for what he must do.
Before classes let out he was more than prepared – not quite hiding behind his truck very near the crosswalk at the school. Victoria and the boy were
in the middle of the pack of smiling, laughing schoolkids. The mood told Carlos that the secret was out and this was the first real day of
celebration.
“Hola, mija, hola Manuel. I can see the news about the baby is alive in the village. I want to be the first to welcome you to the family Verduzco. We
will have a dinner in your honor this Friday at 9:00. Your whole family is invited.”
He shook Manuel’s hand and pumped it as Olivia began to cry and to pull away from her young friend. Carlos smiled and was quick to slam the door in
the truck and speed away.
Carlos drove to Nacho’s house not far from his place, yelled to make himself known, walked behind the house to the jungle-like patio where he had
spent half his life in hammocks and chairs with his compadre. Nacho came out of the kitchen, handed Carlos a beer and sat down.
Before Carlos could tell his friend everything that was said at the school, Mirtha, Nacho’s wife, burst into their private enclave to interrupt their
serenity with news of phone calls, trucks and cars honking at the gate. Because this was her first time in the middle, she was bold.
“You can’t hide here. Vete Carlos. Don’t bring your troubles to our door like this. You know better. What were you thinking?”
From his rope hammock Nacho waved her off with a smile that said she and Olivia should handle these family matters – especially those complicated by
such accidents of nature.
Victoria was not home by dinner time. Her older sister Claudia was there with her own baby, Carlito; they were not talking. Carlos was still in the
tropical inner sanctum with his compadre, the calls had slowed down, the cars and trucks and horns had stopped just before dark. Olivia’s sister,
Delia came by to get Victoria’s things for a stay at her house for a while.
Carlos fished with Pepe the next day and when he returned home his welcome was auspiciously quiet. He dined on hot tongue and cold shoulder, spent the
next few nights on the couch with the T.V. turned down very low.
As things eased back down into almost normal Delia brought some news. She dragged Victoria to the clinic where the doctora verified that she was
having a normal menstrual cycle and was not with child.
Carlos wanted to celebrate but the news was cold consolation. He knew he might never win Victoria back to him, that her embarrassment was so severe
that forgiveness was not the faintest possibility. His only small pride lay in the fact that he had at least tried to change things, that in his
clumsy way he was trying to show the young people there were consequences, responsibilities, pledges and commitments to consider. The long-standing
family feud obscured his bold lesson so it lost almost all of its intent and meaning.
Like so many other fishermen in the village he would do his best to be a good grandfather and surrogate father to a child in his house who would never
know his real father. He would see to it that Carlito would get the things he needs, the best chance to succeed, to be strong and wise and quick.
It was a little cooler outside under the stars where he smoked and thought “I was not born to be a fisherman. I fish for my family. It is enough for
me to know I did what I had to do. My joy is to see them with full bellies and smiles on their faces. It is enough. Maybe, in time, they will forget
my clumsy meddling and come to care again for a simple man of honest intentions who comes home smelling of fish.”
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