Becoming Naomi Leon Read online

  Our entire life Gram had been tight-lipped about anything to do with our parents. If Owen asked, “What was our mother like?” Gram always answered, “That’s best left unsaid. Let’s focus on the future.” If I asked about our father, Gram said, “Naomi, let’s not dredge up the river bottom.” Didn’t she know that Owen and I had a million questions?

  Finally I turned to face her. “We waited and waited. Owen wore a suit and tie! Blanca and her mother waited, too! What’s rehab and a halfway house? Is Skyla sick? And what about our father? I thought he didn’t want us but he did!”

  Deliberately and at a snail’s pace, Gram wiped her hands with a napkin. She always went into slow motion when she was putting her thoughts in order. “A rehab hospital is a place people go to recover from alcoholism, from letting alcohol mess up their lives. I’m sorry to say that Skyla has been in several. When she gets out of a rehab hospital, she has to go into a halfway house for a while. It’s a house where people learn how to live in the real world again, but with counselors watching over them. And sometimes, after a lot of years, drinking makes a person’s brain work cattywampus and doctors have to give them medicine to straighten it out, so they can handle their everyday problems.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know until she showed up here last week. She asked me not to mention it to you,” said Gram. “I was giving Skyla the benefit of making a clean start with her life . . . and with you kids. She admitted she’d made a lot of bad decisions and pointed out that the one good decision she had made was to leave you children with me, and well . . . I guess I hung my hat on the prospect that she had pulled herself together.”

  “What about our father?” I said. “Ms. Morimoto told Ms. Domínguez that our father wanted us, but Skyla wouldn’t let him see us.”

  Gram took a deep breath. “So much happened back then. . . . I’ve carried it too long. The night of the storm, after Santiago saved you from the flooded motel, he went to move his boat to the harbor but got caught in the hurricane. His motor broke and the boat was blown south into a cove, where he was stranded for over a week. When he finally got help and a tow back to Rosarito, he went straight back to the church, but Skyla had already left with you two.”

  I watched the melted ice cream drip from the table to the floor.

  “Santiago called my house right away. He and Skyla had some heated phone calls, all fights and fury. After one of the calls, she tore every picture of your father to shreds. She told him in no uncertain terms that if he tried to contact you, she’d take him to court. It was all bluster, but Santiago didn’t know that. I’m sure the poor man was fed up with her shenanigans. After that I didn’t hear from him for several years. Then one day he started sending money orders in care of me, for you both. He sends a sizable amount a couple of times a year.”

  A surge of frustration welled up inside of me. Why did grown-ups always think that kids couldn’t understand the truth? With Skyla showing up and all this new information about my father, I might as well have been lugging around a giant suitcase filled with rocks for the weariness that settled on my shoulders.

  “We could have written him a letter to tell him we were with you,” I said.

  “I tried that, Naomi. I wrote a half-dozen letters, but they all came back to me. And none of his money order envelopes ever had a return address.”

  “You could have at least told us.” I buried my head in Gram’s lap and started to cry.

  Gram patted my back. “He was a fisherman and sometimes spent weeks out on his boat. That was no life for you kids. By the time I got Owen set up with his doctors and you with the counselor, I was so attached that I didn’t want to take the tiniest chance of losing either one of you. After my letters came back, I didn’t try anymore. That was selfish on my part. You can blame me for that.”

  Just then a big noise echoed from inside the car wash, interrupting my cry. I sat up. The machinery churned on the other side of the viewing window and a car headed through on the track. Tiny jets sprayed foamy soaps and waxes in rainbow colors on the car. Then the giant machinery went to work scrubbing and lathering. Finally, fingerlike water nozzles waved back and forth, rinsing off the suds.

  Owen tapped me on the shoulder. “You can stop now, Naomi. They got the car wash working.”

  He and Gram laughed, but I couldn’t summon a smile. We watched a few cars go through the wash.

  “Any more nettles in your cap?” asked Gram, taking my hand.

  I looked up at her. “What’s a vicious circle?”

  Skyla never came home the night of the conference. Three nights later, Gram, Owen, and I had cleaned the kitchen from Sunday pot roast and arranged ourselves comfy on the sofa to watch television.

  That’s when Skyla’s car pulled up and her horn beeped. Gram tensed, and Owen and I sat still as statues.

  A few minutes later, the door popped open. “Come outside, everyone,” Skyla said all cheerful. “I have a surprise and news. Which do you want first?”

  Was she really going to act like nothing happened?

  Gram demanded, “Have you lost your mind? Why didn’t you go to the conferences and pick these children up from school on Thursday?”

  Skyla didn’t blink. She just stared at Gram and said, “Something came up. Sorry. Don’t you want to hear my news?”

  “These children were counting on you to show up,” continued Gram. “Their teachers had appointments with you. Naomi and Owen waited on the steps of the school until dark! Where were you?”

  Skyla tilted her head and look confused. “Clive and I went to Palm Springs for a long weekend. That’s all. Now, my news is that I invited Clive to come for Thanksgiving and he said yes. He is dying to meet you all. Isn’t that great?”

  Skyla looked from me to Owen to Gram. I was sure we looked like a jury sitting all in a row on the sofa. “What? Are you all going to ruin everything by holding it against me that I skipped two little conferences? I can’t believe it! Obviously everyone got home just fine and no harm was done. That is just like you, Gram. You were always this way, raining on all of my joy. And it looks like you’ve taught these children your same pitiful attitude. Well, I am not going to let you spoil my spirit. Now, out in my car is a big present and I have been counting the minutes to get it here, but I can just as easily return it, if that’s what you want!”

  She turned and walked out, slamming the door.

  Gram closed her eyes and shook her head, talking to the ceiling. “How does she always turn things around in her favor?”

  “Can we go look?” asked Owen. “Please?”

  Gram finally nodded, and Owen and I bolted outside.

  Skyla opened the trunk of the car and struggled to pull something out. A few seconds later she wheeled a brand-new bicycle into the halo of porch light.

  I sucked in my breath.

  The tags and a helmet dangled from the handlebars and the blue metallic paint shimmered. It had all the expensive extras: a light, fancy reflectors, and a leather pack behind the seat.

  “A bike!” said Owen, clapping the sides of his cheeks and jumping up and down.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” said Skyla. “Owen, it’s a present for you, from Clive. He wants to meet all of you, and this is his way of introducing himself. Well?”

  Gram was flat-out staring at Skyla in disbelief, with her mouth so wide open that she was going to catch flies if she didn’t shut it soon.

  Skyla beamed.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Owen said it so loud, I was sure everyone at Avocado Acres heard him. He was already balanced on the seat, with Gram holding the handlebars. He couldn’t ride it yet because it needed to be adjusted for his height, and he needed a little block of wood on one of the pedals so his legs would be even. Gram wheeled him away down toward the blacktop as he called, “Thank youuuuuu!”

  I was so happy for Owen that I wanted to hug Skyla. But she leaned against the car, looking after him, and she wasn’t smi
ling. Her arms were crossed tight, not inviting affection.

  “Thank you for buying Owen the bike,” I said, my voice a whisper.

  Skyla glared at me. “Naomi, why can’t you speak up? When Clive comes over for Thanksgiving, I expect you to tell him loud and clear ‘Thank you very much’ for all his thoughtfulness.” She continued with a short, clipped voice. “He paid for that bike and everything else. He wants to be friends with you, especially, and I’m counting on you doing the same in return for all he’s done. You owe him that, so don’t disappoint me. Do you understand me, young lady?”

  I quickly nodded and backed away from Skyla, then turned and ran after Gram and Owen. Was I in trouble? Why did Clive want to be my friend? Why did I have to tell him thank you loud and clear? I didn’t want to owe him anything.

  I caught up to Owen and Gram and took over pushing the bike. As I wheeled Owen around the trailer park loop, a troublesome feeling tiptoed after me like a lurking shadow.

  “I guess that’s the best we can do to dress up this dump,” said Skyla, standing in the living room/kitchen on Thanksgiving morning. She surveyed Owen’s construction paper turkeys and cornucopias taped in the window. “I am leaving for Clive’s now, but we’ll be back at two o’clock for dinner. Now remember what I told you about thanking him, Naomi.”

  I half smiled and nodded to her as she headed out the door. I etched a few more feathers on the bird I had carved. Gram had a gnarled manzanita branch she decorated for the different holidays, and she thought that if I trimmed it with some of my carvings it would show them off and make a fitting and conversational Thanksgiving centerpiece. I chose the best of my herd of animals, nestling some of the figures among the twisted curlicues and hanging others from thread on the mangled twigs.

  “Naomi, what has gotten into you?” said Gram. “I am worried you’re going to faint from that irregular breathing! You’re not fretting on that figure, are you?”

  I wasn’t worried about the new carving, but the prospect of meeting Clive had me trying to fill my lungs with confidence. Between breaths, I held up the soap and admired it. It was the first time I’d ever carved a bird with the wings in the flying position, and even I could see it was the prettiest and most delicate thing I’d ever done. I set it on the uppermost twig of the manzanita, like an angel on a Christmas tree.

  “That looks dandy,” said Gram. “The new carving reminds me of a bluebird of happiness, the way the wings are out and all. Now, let’s get out my yellow-checked tablecloth. I hope it doesn’t clash with Mrs. Maloney. Then I’ll baste that turkey.”

  I headed for the cupboard to get the tablecloth. Maybe if I looked hard enough I could find all eight cloth napkins that matched. I wanted us all to sit down and have dinner like those families in Gram’s lady magazines. The ones in the photos, passing the food with smiles on their faces and oozing politeness. I didn’t want to disappoint Skyla, though lately it was hard making things right for her, let alone the mysterious Clive. I took another deep breath. What if I couldn’t say thank you? What if he didn’t like me?

  Clive was big, like a mountain. Not fat, exactly, but broad and thick. I looked for tattoos, but he was wearing a leather jacket. Pulled back into a ponytail, his black hair looked dyed and it was wrinkled into waves of tight lines. The first thing that popped into my mind was that his hair had been French braided and slept in overnight, then let out.

  He shook hands with Owen and me and gave Gram a poinsettia that dangled a $3.98 grocery store tag. Then he redirected his attention to Skyla, keeping his arm around her waist. He reached up and patted her hair, which wasn’t raven brown anymore. A few nights ago she had bought a box of Pumpkin Spice hair color at the pharmacy and did a makeover. She had also found a lipstick called Pumpkin Pie that was a dead-on match.

  Mrs. Maloney arrived, toting her lime gelatin salad with little marshmallows. She wore her pink-checked robe, but in honor of the occasion she had added a rhinestone turkey pin near the top button. Fabiola and Bernardo came with pots of stuffing, mashed potatoes, and Fabiola’s specialty, cranberry sauce with jalapeño peppers.

  Lulu took one look at Clive and started barking. We all knew she’d settle down, but Clive backed away from her and the more he backed away, the more Lulu inched forward.

  “Get that dog away from me. I don’t like dogs. Skyla, you know how I feel about dogs.”

  “Clive has issues with dogs,” explained Skyla.

  Gram walked over, picked up Lulu, and said, “Why, this dog wouldn’t bite a biscuit!”

  Bernardo took Lulu from Gram and walked her back to their house. We could hear Lulu’s whining all the way through the grove.

  After Bernardo came back and the food was situated, we all sat down at the patio table and Mrs. Maloney’s borrowed card table, which we’d pushed together and covered with Gram’s tablecloth.

  Mrs. Maloney said grace and ended with, “. . . and I am thankful for my neighbors, who always take such good care of me, and for this beautiful weather, which allows us to sit outside on Thanksgiving Day while others are freezing in some parts of the country. Amen.”

  “Please eat while the food is hot,” said Gram, passing the candied yams.

  As the food circled the table, Clive picked up the bluebird from the manzanita branch and said, “This soap?”

  “Naomi carved it herself,” said Gram. “It’s a hobby of hers. We think she has a natural gift.”

  “Their father was obsessed with carving,” said Skyla, patting Clive on the arm. “And not in a good way. Every year he left me for a week right before Christmas to go to some carving thing in Mexico. Imagine leaving a wife and kids at that time of year!”

  “La Noche de los Rábanos,” said Bernardo proudly. “In Oaxaca.”

  “Yeah, the radish night,” said Owen. Bernardo had told us about the festival many times.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything like that,” said Mrs. Maloney.

  Bernardo continued. “Those who work with wood come to Oaxaca City from all over the state to carve beautiful scenes out of radishes.”

  “They use not only the little salad radishes,” said Fabiola, “but also giant radishes, the size of arms and legs, a special type the government grows for the festival.”

  “For over a hundred years, families have entered the competition,” said Bernardo. “León, it is a famous carving family in Oaxaca. Naomi has the heart of a carver, like her father.”

  Clive sort of grunted and set the bird down on the table, next to his napkin.

  “All I remember is that those painted wooden animals were everywhere,” said Skyla. “He wouldn’t even let me buy a store-bought mobile for above Owen’s crib. Instead, he took an old branch and nailed it to the ceiling and hung those things from it. I’d forgotten about all that nonsense until now. Do we have to talk about this? Mrs. Maloney, have you always lived here?”

  As I spooned stuffing onto my plate, I remembered that colorful swirl above my head in the motel room in Mexico. It hadn’t been a dream after all. I tucked it away in my mind to think about later.

  “Yes, I’ve always lived in Lemon Tree,” said Mrs. Maloney. She turned to Clive. “And where are your people from?”

  He stopped chewing on a turkey leg. “I don’t have contact with anyone, and that’s by choice, except a daughter from my second marriage. She’s a couple years younger than Naomi.”

  Everyone nodded, real polite.

  Fabiola asked, “What is her name?”

  “Her name was Elizabeth, but I renamed her Sapphire. Could someone pass the mashed potatoes?”

  “Isn’t Sapphire a beautiful name?” said Skyla.

  “In all my life I never heard of such a thing,” said Mrs. Maloney. “Elizabeth is a perfectly fine name.”

  Gram always said that when you’re eighty-eight years old, you can say whatever you like.

  Clive concentrated on pouring gravy over his pile of potatoes. “Her mother named her Elizabeth after her own mother, who I did
n’t like. I thought she should be called something I could enjoy, especially since she’s coming to live with me when I move to Las Vegas after my training.”

  “Isn’t that great?” said Skyla.

  “What about Sapphire’s mother?” asked Gram.

  “She’ll still get to see Sapphire on vacations and some weekends,” said Clive. “I proved that living with me was better for Sapphire. Besides, her mother wasn’t responsible with the state money, always spending too much on the kid.”

  “State money?” said Gram.

  “The state supplement for dependents,” said Clive, rubbing his hands together like a fly on a sandwich. “If you have custody of a minor and you don’t make much money, the government helps you out with a little extra every month. Free Legal Aid told me everything I needed to know to qualify.”

  “Naomi, Clive and I decided that you are the perfect friend for Sapphire, being a little older and all,” said Skyla. “You could watch out for her like a big sister. You’re going to meet her real soon. Won’t that be fun? Take a trip to Las Vegas?” Skyla was looking around the table with bright eyes and a smile, like she’d just had the most sincerely tremendous idea.

  Suddenly I couldn’t swallow.

  Fabiola and Bernardo looked at Skyla with curiosity. Gram stared at her and narrowed her eyes, nodding her head ever so slightly.

  The only one eating was Clive.

  Mrs. Maloney set down her fork. “We couldn’t do without Naomi here, not for a minute.”

  “Anyway,” said Owen, “she’s got school.”

  “They’ve got plenty of schools in Las Vegas,” said Clive. “So that’s not a problem.” He took off his leather jacket and tossed it on the patio couch. A tattoo of a shark, teeth bared and dripping blood, bulged on his forearm muscle.

  An uncomfortable silence like a thick fog sneaked its way around the turkey platter, circled the mashed potatoes, and rose up in a cloud above the lime gelatin salad. It was the kind of quiet when you hoped somebody would say any little thing.