Chapter 21
Four months. Celia set the phone, André’s phone, on her bed. It was useless now for making calls—André must have canceled his plan—but she could still use it to access the internet over wifi. The e-mail from Theo’s lawyer said that André had received the papers and she now had a four-month waiting period until her divorce was final. Four months to freedom. In four months, she would be unmarried with a newborn. She looked forward to the future, but it also scared her. What kind of family would she have with this baby?
Living here with Theo’s family, she saw how overworked an American family could get. It seemed like they labored through every minute of the day. Celia worked too, cleaning their house, but instead of feeling part of the family, she felt isolated and lonely. Would she still feel that way in four months? She glanced back down at her phone and smiled with relief that she would be rid of André soon.
Things were going to get better.
She’d spent the last few days replaying her meeting with Manny—Manny walking into the kitchen and finding her there with Flora, the look of shock on Manny’s face as he recognized her, the feel of his hand on her arm. When she met Flora again, she’d expected to meet him again someday, but she hadn’t imagined it would be so soon. She’d wanted to plan everything out—from what she wore to the place they met. Instead, he’d seen her at her worst.
It was time she fixed herself up. Enough of wearing Theo’s T-shirts around the house. She pulled out the fabric she’d bought the other day and sat down to the white plastic sewing machine Yvonne had loaned her.
It didn’t seem that long ago that Joana guided her hands as she sat at the old, black Singer, making her first skirt in a bright blue and green pattern. Manny had sat beside them, cutting out patterns for the bags Joana sold. Those were happy times, and she wanted to reproduce a small measure of them.
She’d barely started working on the dress when Vicki came into their room. “Two women are here to see you, Celia.”
She set down the fabric. Some women had come to visit her? Ever since her encounter with Manny a few days before, she’d been expecting a visit, and she guessed the women were probably Flora and Joana. He hadn’t come himself. All he’d wanted was to know she was safe. But of course, with the way she looked now, that was all he’d wanted. She didn’t blame him.
Her breath came faster, reminding her that her nose still didn’t work properly. She had to breathe through her mouth now. She looked in the mirror to fix her hair and straighten the baggy T-shirt she wore. Then, she left the seclusion of her bedroom and walked down the long staircase to where two strangers sat on Yvonne’s couch. They weren’t Flora and Joana, as she’d expected.
The young woman with long braids introduced herself in English as Della, a friend of Manny’s, and Celia remembered Flora mentioning the name. The fact that Della called herself Manny’s friend, not his wife or his girlfriend, shot hope through Celia, hope she shouldn’t have felt. What man wanted to take in another man’s ex-wife and raise his baby? Manny deserved better.
“We’re from Fogo too,” Isobella said in Creole.
Celia sat down across from them, and for a while, they chatted about their mutual acquaintances. Isobella knew just about everyone on the island, including Celia’s mother. “How is your mother now?” she asked.
At least this question was easier to answer than any about her time in America. “She’s very happy.” Her mother’s life was the only thing she wasn’t at all worried about right now. “She’s married Toon, the shoemaker with the crippled leg.”
Isobella’s mouth opened into a wide smile. “Lidia married Toon, huh? Good for her. You can’t find a better man than Toon. I always did like him. As for me, though, I’m finished with men. I decided long ago, when I had Della, that it was easier to take care of just me and my child, especially now that we’re here in America.”
Della, who had been sitting quietly beside her, her hands folded in her lap, jutted her chin out. “There are plenty of good men in America, though, Mama.”
Isobella threw her head back and laughed. “You’re just saying that because you’re seeing Manny.”
Celia closed her lips tight so that they wouldn’t tremble. So, Manny was dating Della. That was to be expected. Still, it hurt more than a punch from André. This was all her own fault. She’d given up on him.
Della did seem the perfect woman for Manny. She’d lived here long enough to speak English well. Plus, she had a pretty face and pretty clothes. She was exactly what Manny deserved, not someone like herself, a woman made ugly by another man’s abuse. As painful as it was, she would just have to forget about Manny. That’s what was best for him. Burdening him with her problems wouldn’t make life any easier for him. Still, she couldn’t help wishing that she and Della could trade places—that her mother had brought her to America ten years earlier.
Isobella went on. “Out of all the men she meets at college, my Della likes Manny best. She goes down to eat dinner at the little convenience store where he works. All they’ve got to eat there are old sandwiches wrapped in plastic and hot dogs that are dry as leather. I’d say that’s love.”
Love? Isobella couldn’t know how much her words stung Celia, but it was just as well they did. Manny was taken, and Celia could stop hoping for something that would never be.
Della shook her head. “Mama! We didn’t come here to talk about my love life.” She smiled at Celia. “Manny tells us you’re a hard worker, and we were wondering if you’d be interested in a little work. We run a daycare out of our apartment. Would you be interested in helping to care for a few children while I study for my classes? We could pay nine dollars an hour. Even if you can only come a few hours a day, it’d be a huge help to me.”
Though Celia cleaned Theo’s house for her room and board, she still needed some way to bring in money, but working for Manny’s girlfriend? She wasn’t sure she could handle that—hearing her talk about him, or worse still, seeing them together. Just the thought of it made her throat go dry.
“Right now, we have one little baby and five toddlers we’re watching,” Isobella explained.
No one had ever paid her to watch children before, and, ordinarily, it would have sounded like a job she’d enjoy. She squared her shoulders. She couldn’t go on living in Vicki’s bedroom forever. If she could leave André and get herself a divorce, she could work for Manny’s girlfriend. She could face her regrets and move on.
“Do you like children?” Della asked, probably wondering why Celia hadn’t responded yet.
“Yes. I love children . . . It’s just that—” She wasn’t sure how to say it. Had Manny put them up to this? She could imagine him doing something like that, convincing them to pay her because he felt sorry for her. She remembered how he’d always given coins to the crazy woman who sold grapes at the market. “I hope you’re not offering me the job out of pity.”
Della and her mother looked at each other before Della answered. “We really do need the help. I can promise you that, and you come well recommended by Manny.”
Manny did know she was a hard worker. That, at least, hadn’t changed, and the job paid nine dollars an hour, more than she’d made helping Teresa.
Isobella pursed her lips as she waited for Celia’s answer.
Celia would just have to gulp down any jealousy that came up. She needed this job. “I would appreciate a job like that very much.”
“Great,” Della said, and Isobella’s expression relaxed.
After discussing their schedule, Della scribbled out her address on a piece of paper. Then she drew her a map, showing her how to get from Theo’s house to their apartment.
It seemed easy enough to find the place, but the next morning, she gave herself extra time to get there. She did take a wrong turn a time or two, but so many people on the streets spoke Creole, that it was easy enough to ask directions and get back on track.
The women lived on the bottom floor of a brick apartment building. Isobella answered the door, holding a chubby baby boy. “Good morning, Celia!”
A group of toddlers played with toys on the carpet while Della worked at the kitchen table on a laptop. After showing Celia around, Isobella had her sit down on their striped sofa and handed her the baby. It was a nice, big apartment, bigger than the one Teresa had in North Carolina. Everything seemed clean and white. Photographs of Cape Verdean beaches hung on the walls, along with a few seascapes that looked American, and the aroma of baking bread filled the air. Perhaps, despite the drawbacks of working with Manny’s girlfriend, she would enjoy this job.
Isobella sat down on the carpet amidst the children and began to sing one of the old children’s songs from Fogo. Celia joined in, along with a couple of the little girls. Then Isobella sang a song in English that Celia didn’t know and another familiar song in Creole. She alternated this way, she explained, so the children would learn both languages. “Della says it’ll make them smarter. We want you to speak English here as much as you can.”
Celia drew in her breath. “I can do that,” she said.
She fed the baby his bottle as Isobella helped the toddlers color pictures at the kitchen table. After the baby fell asleep and Celia set him down in his crib, they rotated the children through a carefully planned schedule. Snack time followed coloring time. Then Isobella read them a few stories and used puppets to help them practice counting.
All the while, Celia prepared herself to see Manny come through the door. She would paste on a smile and thank him for getting her the job. Her heart pounded with nervous anticipation anytime she heard a knock at the door. But it was never him.
He didn’t come the next day either.
She guessed that he and Della had discussed her schedule. He would know when she was at the daycare, and since he lived right down the street, it would be easy for him to pop in any time. She could only conclude that he didn’t want to see her. Perhaps, it was too disturbing to see her face now, or his feelings had faded, so that all he felt was a vague sense of compassion.
On the second day, after the last child left for the day, she couldn’t resist the urge to walk past the convenience store where he worked. She stood in the darkness at the end of the parking lot and watched him in the well-lit store. He wore a wide smile as he chatted with his customers. Two men lingered beside the counter, just as they would on Fogo, smiling and laughing with him. Then Della walked in, and his face brightened in that familiar way he’d once looked at Celia. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Della’s cheek. Together, he and Della looked so elegant, young, and exotic—perfect specimens of America’s melting pot. Isobella had said Della loved him, and even from a distance, Celia suspected it was true.
Any last scrap of hope she held for Manny’s love drifted away in the cool, autumn breeze.
Her life was good now, better than it’d been for the past two years at least. She had a safe place to stay, and her employers handed the money she earned to her, not her husband.