This Side of Providence (39 page)

Trini

M
y mommy is gone, like the snow.

Miss Valentín

T
here is no funeral. They cremate her body and the kids decide to spread her ashes in the bay off Galilee. Cristo says he wants her in the water so she can go home again. With Snowman's help we charter a small passenger ferry, and on a bright Sunday morning in May we ride out to sea.

Every seat on the small boat is taken. Cristo, Luz, and Trini sit together in the front, Cristo planted between his sisters with an arm around each one. They sway as the boat rises up and down but he never lets go of them. Chino, Kim, and Sammy are seated along the bench that runs down one side of the boat, their legs touching because they have no extra room. César, Marco, and Graciela fill the opposite bench, all three looking at the floor. I sit in a chair along the back, right in front of the captain, while Scottie and Snowman stand beside me. My seat can rotate 360 degrees but I keep it facing forward. I watch the seagulls flying over the endless blue water, occasionally dipping down to feed.

Lucho is the final passenger. Lucky number thirteen. She stands away from the group, behind the captain, and faces the land as the boat pulls away from shore. She watches the lighthouse as we retreat, her eyes unwavering. She looks like she's in a trance, and like she hasn't slept in weeks.

After twenty minutes the captain turns off the engine. He drops the anchor but the boat still spins around, floating in circles. He taps me on the shoulder, assuming that I'm in charge, and tells me we can begin anytime now. There is no one to give
the eulogy, so Cristo asked if he could read a poem instead. I told him he didn't have to but he said he wanted to. Needed to. I motion to him now and he stands up. He's wearing a tie and a button-down shirt with sleeves so long they cover his hands. His khaki pants, which I ironed this morning, still hold the crease down the center of each leg. He takes a book from under his seat and opens it to a marked page.

“Mami didn't read a lot of books. She always said she didn't have the patience. I understand that because I'm kind of like that, too.” He looks up, squinting in the sunlight. “But she liked poems, if they were short, and she liked flowers. So I'm going to read a short poem about flowers.”

He clears his throat and reads the poem, first in Spanish and then in English. It's a simple poem, but he reads it beautifully, pausing at all the right moments. His voice cracks a few times but he gets through it without breaking down. Tears well up in my eyes and I tip my head back, trying to keep them from spilling out. Chino has his hand over his face and every few seconds his entire body shakes. He doesn't make a sound. Kim holds a tissue in her hand but doesn't appear to be crying. When I lose the battle with my tears and they spill onto my face, she passes it to me. I smile at her, which makes more tears come out. None of the children are crying.

When he finishes reading, Cristo puts the book down. He picks up the bag containing his mother's ashes and carries it to the side of the boat, where the railing is low. The bag is made from heavy-duty plastic and he can't untie the knot. Luz tries to help him but her fingers aren't strong enough. Lucho eventually opens it, by tearing a hole in the plastic with her keys. She hands it back to Cristo as delicately as if she were handing over a newborn baby.

“Here goes,” Cristo says in a whisper.

Everyone stands up, and we fall into a semicircle behind him. He holds the bag over the edge and slowly pours the contents into the water. At first it falls in a light sprinkle, but when the bag is half empty the remaining ashes pour out all at once, creating a dramatic splash that turns the water from dark blue to a bright emerald green. The sea lights up below, as if we had
dropped a flashlight into the waves. No one takes a picture, but I'll never forget how the water seemed to glow as it filled with ash. I step to the edge to get closer, to see it one more time. It looks like a huge plume of smoke is floating right underneath the surface, as if a bomb had gone off on the ocean floor.

“
Adios, Mami
.” Cristo speaks so softly I think I'm the only one who hears him say good-bye. I'm holding a bouquet of white roses, given to me on shore by the captain's wife, and without thinking I begin to break it apart. I pass each rose around the semicircle until everyone is holding a single flower. One at a time we walk to the edge of the boat and toss the flowers overboard. Lucho tears the head off hers and sprinkles the rose petals into the water one by one. When she finishes, she closes her eyes and stands at the railing like a statue. Tears fall from her eyes and she doesn't bother to wipe them away. She holds the stem of the rose in one hand and tosses it into the ocean like a javelin. When she opens her eyes she looks for it out in the waves, but a gull plucks it out of the water and flies away with it in its claws.

I say a short prayer as I drop my rose into the water. I try to follow it with my eyes, but soon it has blended in with the others and I can't tell which one is mine. The only person who keeps their flower is Trini. She holds it in her small fist like a torch. I watch her bring it to her nose and smell it several times. Every time she does I see a tiny smile flicker across her face.

On the ride back to shore I sit beside Luz. I put my arm around her and she rests her head on my shoulder. The wind pulls my hair away from my face and I feel like I did as a child riding the roller coasters at Coney Island. I put on my sunglasses and look out at the sparkling sea. A swimmer does laps along the breakwater, and I watch him pull his body through the waves as fast as a sailfish, jealous of the quickness of his flight. I wonder what it would feel like to be blessed with that type of agility, and if it's possible for me to lose the burden of my body in any environment.

As we pull into the dock Luz sits up straight, separating her body from mine. She looks back at the sea.

“Do you think she'll make it?” she asks.

“Make it where?”

“Back to Puerto Rico. That's where she always wanted to go.”

I squeeze her shoulder, pulling her into my chest. I kiss the top of her head, right along the part where her hair splits into braids. “Yes. Of course she'll make it. I bet she's already there.”

She nods, as if my opinion makes it fact, and turns away from the water. I never see her look back.

I hold the dinner at my apartment later in the day. We eat stewed chicken with rice and beans that Graciela's mother spent all morning making. After I serve the food, Scottie corners me in the kitchen to thank me for handling all the preparations.

“It's good of you,” he says. “Especially since you're not even family.”

I smile to hide my contempt. He watches Cristo and Luz from across the room, gesturing at them with his beer.

“I thought about taking them, but it's just too much, you know? If they were mine, I'd have to…but since they're not—” He shakes his head. “I don't know.”

“Have you thought about Trini?” I ask him.

“Course I have. She's my blood,” he says, as if that makes everything clear. “She's my daughter, she needs to be with me.”

I watch Trini stacking paper cups on the floor. She knocks down the tower she just built and then starts building it again.

“She's their sister,” I say. “They need to see her.”

“I know, I know.” He sips his beer. “And I'm all right with that.”

“Does that mean you'll help?”

He looks at me like I'm speaking another language.

“You know, just bring her around sometime, or invite them over. Just help make it possible.” I lower my gaze. “I'm not saying you should raise them, but you can still make an effort to keep them close. It doesn't take that much extra.”

He finishes his beer in one long swallow and places the empty can on the counter next to several others. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Sure, whatever you need,” he says.

“It's not about me. I'm talking about what they need.”

He nods and flashes a smile that looks just like Trini's. “Right,” he says, “whatever
they
need.” He slips behind me and disappears into the living room.

I'm still in the kitchen, cutting up lemon squares, when a hand touches my waist. I jump, knocking the dessert tray against the countertop. When I turn around Snowman is stepping away from me.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”

“That's okay.” I hold up the dessert tray. “I was just about to put these out.”

“Here, let me help.” He carries the tray into the dining room and walks around the room, offering lemon squares to everyone. Once he's circled the room twice he comes back to me with the tray, which now holds the two remaining squares.

“You could have just put it on the table.”

“I didn't think of that,” he says. “Sorry.” He takes a piece, offering me the last one.

“No, thank you,” I say, even though all I want is to taste the lemony sweetness in my mouth. But why even start, when I know that one won't be enough?

He puts the plate down and reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small dark-blue book. I can just make out the words
Alcoholics Anonymous
on the spine, the golden script raised like Braille. Tucked inside the cover are several long white envelopes.

“Maybe this isn't the time,” he says, “but I don't know when would be.”

He hands me the letters, his eyes focused on the floor like he doesn't want to embarrass me with eye contact. I flip through them slowly. One has my name written on the outside and the others are for Cristo, Luz, and Trini.

“I found them in Arcelia's apartment,” he says. “The night she died.”

“So it's true?” I take a step back. “You were there.”

“I thought everyone knew,” he says.

“I heard the rumors. But I didn't know what to believe.”

“Yeah, well.” He scratches the stubble on his face, so pale I
can barely see it. “She paged me. She knew she used too much. But it was too late by the time I got there. I found her body lying in the middle of the floor.” Instead of looking at me, he flips through the pages of the book.

“How'd you know to go to Sophia Street?”

He looks up. “I went to the new place first. When I didn't find her there I knew something was off. Especially when I saw those letters. The upstairs neighbor ended up calling me, said she heard noises that sounded like a break-in. Luckily the new tenants hadn't moved in yet.”

I look around the kitchen, making sure no one else can hear us.

“You think it was suicide?”

“Who knows,” he says. “What OD isn't suicide?”

I notice his hands, the knuckles spotted with brown and white like his skin is peeling from a burn. For some reason I want to reach out and touch them. Instead, I place my hand on his sleeve.

“It's not your fault,” I say. “I hope you don't feel like you could have done something.”

“I know,” he says. “Not then, anyhow.” He looks around the room, his eyes searching for something. “It might sound crazy, but I don't think she wanted me to do anything, to help her or whatever. I really think she just called so I would get there first. So Cristo wouldn't find the body. She was thinking about him in the end, not herself.”

I look back at his hands, trying to process what he's telling me. I want to figure out which color is peeling off, the brown or the white, but I can't tell. Nothing makes sense anymore.

“I just thought I should tell you,” he says. “That's everything I know.”

“Thanks.” I tuck the envelopes into the shallow pocket of my apron. When my hands are empty, he offers me the book.

“You can have this, too,” he says. “Maybe the kids would want it.”

I take it from his hand, wondering what I could learn about my own compulsion from a book like that. He picks up the last lemon square and eats it in one bite. Then he uses a napkin to
clean off the powdered sugar around his mouth, even though it blends in perfectly with his skin and I hadn't even noticed it there.

“I've been thinking about what you said, back at the library,” he says. “About what kind of influence I want to have on him. I'm not sure how much good I have to offer, but I know I don't want to be a bad influence. I know that much.”

“Is he still working for you?”

Snowman shrugs. “I have him going to the library mostly, just getting books and copying articles for me. I took him off the street.”

“That's good to hear. I appreciate that. But I don't think he needs to work anymore, not for anyone. He's a kid, he needs to play baseball and go to the movies.”

“Understood,” he says, nodding his head slightly. He turns to leave, but stops himself mid-step. “One more thing,” he says. “I was thinking about the pool. He's a good swimmer, you know, and he loves it. I don't think you should take that away from him just because I introduced him to it.”