It rained on my birthday this year. No
big deal. I told Marcela that I was doing something with some friends,
because I wasn't in the mood for all her cheery crap. She kept bugging
me about having big plans, so I told her off and that I didn't care
about her big plans. Things were always about what she wanted and about
her plans. I told her I had my own things to do and they didn't include
her. Actually, I didn't do much. I went to school like always. When I
got home, I was alone. My parents were at work. So I kicked it in
front of the TV for a while, then went out.
I went for a ride with a cute guy from
the neighborhood who hangs out by an abandoned video store with a great
ramp for skate boarding. I told him it was my birthday so he swiped his
dad's car keys and we took off. We drove to Griffith Park, he parked,
and we had sex. Then he wanted to get high. I decided to ask him to
take me home then, because Nash has started me on this cleansing program
and I promised to do it. Can't break my promises to Nash. So no
smoking. No alcohol. No drugs. Wonderful. Makes me the life of the
party. Skateboard dude didn't care though. He was just as happy to go
back to skating on the ramp and getting high with his friends.
When I got home I had calls on my cell
from Marcela, her mother Marta, both her sisters, and Nash. I lay on my
bed and stared up at the ceiling. Didn't really feel like talking to
any of them.
Nothing feels right lately. My feelings
are all mixed up all the time.
You know, in Mexican families -- well
probably all Latino families, turning fifteen is a big deal. Parents
have huge parties and they plan for the celebration for months. I doubt
my parents even remembered it's my birthday.
As I was drifting off to sleep my cell
rang again and when I answered it, it was Nash.
"Hey birthday girl," he said. "Missed
you tonight."
Yeah well, I would much rather have slept
with him tonight, but I know that to him I'm no more than a kid from
The Vibe. "You aren't working?" I asked him.
"I am," he said. "But I was hoping you'd
stop by and we could go get a burger or something."
"I was busy," I said.
The line got quiet and I was sure he
wanted to ask if I'd stayed sober, but he was too cool to actually ask.
"We can still go out, if you're not too tired.."
"I am tired. And I have to go to school
tomorrow," I said.
"Oh. Right. Well, okay. I owe you a
night out, okay?"
"Sure," I said, missing him. He was so
nice. And he wasn't full of shit like most adults. He really cared.
Maybe because he was so young himself.
He sighed then, "Hey, Lupe, tell me to
butt out if you want," he said. "But you're supposed to spend your
birthday with people who care about you, you know. And maybe you did, I
don't know --."
"I did."
"You lie," he said, and for an instant I
wanted to tell him to go screw himself. What the hell did he know?
But he knew. And I knew that he knew.
And, shit, I couldn't tell him off.
So, I did something I never thought I'd
do, I spoke about my feelings even though I didn't quite understand
them.
"Yeah, I'm lying," I told him. "I guess
I thought if I hung around, my parents might come home from work early
and . . . " I wasn't sure what else to say, because I didn't know what I
thought might happen. I don't even know what I hoped might happen. "I
guess I hoped they'd do something that would surprise me. But they
didn't. They aren't even here."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"That's okay. I didn't really feel like
celebrating anyway."
"Are you okay?"
"I sort of feel . . . sad."
"I know. I can hear it in your voice."
My eyes got kind of moist. "Stupid huh?"
"No, Lupe. And you don't think you're
stupid either. Though you might be embarrassed to be telling me all
this."
I laughed. "Yep."
"But I'm glad you told me. It's kind of
good to tell someone else how shitty you're feeling sometimes."
"You're right. Thanks for listening.
And for calling me."
"I was going to keep calling until you
answered the damn phone."
"You thought I was out drinking, didn't
you?"
"Of course not."
We both laughed.
"Sure you don't want to see me tonight?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm tired. I'm going
to go to bed."
"Okay," he said. "And about your parents
– well, I want you to promise me something."
"What?"
"Stop looking for miracles. They are who
they are."
"I know."
"But you've got others who may not be
family the way most of us think of family – but they love you, Lupe.
And that's more than some of the kids at the center have."
As always he was right. My parents would
never be like the Cosby parents. Shit, they weren't even as good as the
Simpson parents. At least Bart had his mom. "Okay," I said.
"I'm not supposed to tell you, but Marta
planned a big party for you tonight. Marcela hired a band, and they
went all out."
Great make me feel guilty, I wanted to
say. "I told her I wasn't going to do anything with her."
"Maybe she hoped you'd change your mind."
"I'll call her," I promised.
I heard my mom come in then so I hung up
with Nash.
I went out to the living room. "Hey,
Mami."
She looked beat and I felt bad for
expecting her to do anything for my birthday. What was the big deal
anyway? "Want some dinner?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "Bueno."
So I warmed up some soup, heated up a
couple of tortillas, and poured her a glass of milk.
She at the kitchen table. "Te traje
esto," she said, placing a present on the table.
I stared at the gift. "Gracias."
"Abrelo."
I took the package and opened it. She
got me a pair of jeans from where she works. I thanked her though I'd
probably never wear them.
"What did you do today?" she asked me.
I shrugged. "Not much."
Then the doorbell rang and it was a guy.
"Wanna go out," he said.
I thought of Nash, and of Marcela and how
they both wanted good things for me. I should call her and maybe go to the
party after all, even though it was probably over. But then I glanced over
my shoulder at my mom, and changed my mind. My life wasn't about parties
and celebrations. Birthdays weren't a big deal. Besides, how would my mom
feel knowing that Marcela's family had thrown me a big party when she could
barely afford to buy me a pair of pants? Pants that despite spending hours
a day sewing, she had to struggle to buy.
I looked back out at the guy on my porch,
knowing what he wanted. We'd probably go sit at Wendy's and have a Frosty,
then go to his place to have sex.
"Well," he said.
"Na, not tonight," I told him and closed the
door.
I helped my mom clean up, then we both went
to bed. My dad still wasn't home. Probably out drinking.
Then I called Marcela and told her what I'd
done tonight. She cried and made me cry. I made promises I probably
wouldn't keep, but at least for tonight, I had.
I took a long, long shower after our phone
call. Now my hand hurts from writing so much, so I'm going to finally go to
sleep.
