Chapter 26
Christmas was coming in three weeks, and the orders were pouring in. Mama and Flora seemed to always be at the sewing machine, Celia gave Flora more earrings every day, and Manny had grown used to the long lines at the post office. Soon, he’d have enough money saved to buy a printer, so he wouldn’t have to go to the post office every day.
Today, though, he wasn’t going to think about money and business. He and Della were going into the heart of Brockton to see the decorations and hear some Cape Verdean Christmas music.
A light snow fell as he walked to her apartment, coating the world in a sugary dust. Christmas lights twinkled from the windows around him—red, green, and yellow. City life was more beautiful than he’d ever expected although it was a different beauty than on the islands.
The buildings here stood solid and strong, but they were all painted in the colors of dust, dirt, and decay. People didn’t use happy colors on homes and apartment buildings like they did on the islands. They depended on the green of the trees and the flash of electricity to brighten things up.
Della was finishing up some studying when he arrived, but she put aside her laptop and threw on her coat and hat. With her long braids poking out of her knit hat, she looked more playful than usual, and as they walked to the bus stop, Manny asked, “If you’d rather stay here and build a snowman, I wouldn’t mind.” Her subtle scent wafted around them, a coconut fragrance he’d grown to enjoy.
She crinkled her nose. “A snowman?”
Manny shrugged. He’d never had a snowball fight or made a snow angel either, but he wasn’t sure it would even be appropriate for someone his age. That’s one reason it was good to have Della around. She was his guide through American life, which included a vast education in American etiquette, everything from using a Kleenex to greeting women without actually touching them. There was much, much more that he’d learned from her, of course—making small talk, standing at least a foot away from people, wearing deodorant, holding utensils properly, not slurping on his straw. He’d learned so much from her that he sometimes felt a little like a child. “It sounds fun,” he said. “I’ve never built one before.”
“Let’s see if it keeps snowing. It has to be a few inches thick for it to work well.” She glanced at her watch. “Come on. We’re going to be late for the bus.”
She quickened her pace, and Manny kept up with her, letting his feet slip and slide on the snowy sidewalk. The first few times it’d snowed, his feet had slipped out from under him, and he’d fallen on his backside. Now, he’d learned to keep his feet closer to the ground as he walked and to lean forward, gliding along like the ice skaters on TV. Cars and trucks raced by on the street beside them. In the distance, sirens rang out.
He glanced sideways at Della’s face as they walked. Today, like so many other times, she held her jaw tight and her eyes straight ahead. She seemed to always be in a hurry. He supposed it was a side-effect of American society. Though there were a lot of things about the culture that he’d grown to appreciate, that was one thing he didn’t ever want to adopt into his own life. “How’s school going?” he asked.
She heaved a sigh. “I’ve got four finals next week. I’ve got way too much to do.”
“Four!” He probably wouldn’t be seeing much of her over the next few days. “Can I do anything to help?” His English may not have been quite as advanced as Della’s, but he guessed he could compete in most other subjects.
“I don’t think so. Besides the finals, I’ve got the daycare to run, and Mama wants me to take Celia to the doctor.” Her voice held the weight of obligation, and he wondered if Celia might have become too much of a burden. That hadn’t been his intention.
“Celia can’t go by herself?” he asked.
“Mama’s worried she needs someone to translate what the doctor tells her, but Celia says she’s been studying English.”
Celia had always been a quick learner. Of course, medical terms were difficult, even for native speakers. “I’ll ask Flora if she can take her.”
He took her gloved hand in his, and she smiled at him. “That might work. The appointment is for the late afternoon—after Flora’s school is out.”
He stopped, drawing her in for a hug. “Okay, then. No more worrying. Let’s relax and enjoy this beautiful world. If we miss our bus, we’ll catch the next one.”
They walked down the busy city street, passing houses and shops with Christmas trees peeking from their windows. “Flora wants a Christmas tree,” he said, hoping for some advice on the matter. They didn’t have Christmas trees at home.
Della snuggled closer to him as a stiff wind blew into them. “When we were new in the country, Mom sometimes picked one up off the side of the street. That was back when we lived in Boston, and the college students would get rid of them before they went home for Christmas break. I’ll grab one for you if I see one by the university.”
“Thank you,” he said. Della was always good for tips and advice. She’d learned how to survive here the hard way, and sometimes he wondered if she were still just trying to get by. Like his mother had said, she sometimes seemed lonely, and she didn’t smile a lot. She was like the women on the covers of the magazines at the convenience store—beautiful but distant.
Isobella told him once that Della’s old boyfriend went back to Cape Verde, but Della had never mentioned the guy, and Manny was curious. Had he broken her heart? “I have a few letters to drop off if we happen to see a mailbox. Do you write to anyone back home?”
“Sure, but I mostly use e-mail.”
He wrapped his arm around her as they reached the bus stop. “That’s a good idea. Too bad my aunts don’t have e-mail addresses. It’d make it a lot easier.” Now was his chance. “Who do you e-mail?”
Della leaned forward for a better view of the street. “Oh, look! We didn’t miss the bus after all.”
He waited, wondering if she would answer his question as the bus screeched to a halt beside them, but she seemed too busy arranging the dollar bills in her hands.
Once they got on the bus and paid the driver, a man caught Manny’s attention—he had a darkness brooding around him. He dressed fashionably in a designer sweatshirt and jeans, but he wore a scowl upon his face, and his eyes bore into Manny’s. His face seemed familiar—the square set of his jaw, the narrow bridge of his nose.
“You’re from Cape Verde, aren’t you?” the man asked.
The hairs stood up on the back of Manny’s neck, and an ember of anger fanned to life along with his surety. The voice was unmistakable. It was André. “Yes.” Manny spoke through his teeth and then turned away, hoping to end the conversation. He wished they had missed the bus after all.
“You’re in Brockton,” Della explained, sounding much calmer than he felt. “We have the largest population of Cape Verdeans in the United States.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here. I’m looking for my wife,” the man said, his words slurring so that Manny suspected he might have had too much to drink. “I remember you. You’re my wife’s friend . . . Marcus wasn’t it?” The bus stopped again, and André stood up, squeezing in beside Della on their bench. “Do you happen to know how to get to her house? She lives on Caldicott Way.”
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” Manny said, his voice exploding with all the anger he felt toward André. “My name isn’t Marcus.”
“Excuse me,” a woman said, pushing past André to get off the bus. “You’re blocking the aisle.”
The bus driver turned around and glared at André. “That’s the last straw. It’s time for you to get off. You’ve been on here all day, and I’m tired of you sneaking drinks.”
Manny turned his head to look out the window, but André leaned across Della to get a closer look. “My parents told me she lives with a guy named Theo.” His breath burned in Manny’s nostrils.
“The bus driver wants you to get off,” Della said.
Manny shoved his hand against André’s chest, forcing him to keep his distance. The timing was perfect to mess up André’s nose the way he’d messed up Celia’s.
But Della spoke in a whisper, barely opening her mouth. “Don’t do it.” She nudged Manny with her elbow and widened her eyes.
“I can call security if you’re going to make things difficult,” the bus driver added.
When André still refused to get off, Della grabbed Manny’s hand and rushed off the bus, dragging him behind her. “You should have let me hit him,” Manny huffed as they ran down the street. The uneven sidewalk made it difficult to run, and the dusting of snow didn’t help either.
Della pulled him around a corner. “A lot of help that would be if you got thrown in jail for the night.”
They ran for a few more blocks, passing shops with For Lease signs in their windows, a pet store, a computer store, a couple of bars.
Della stopped to catch her breath beside an old church. “We’ve got to warn Celia.”
Manny pulled out his phone. “Do you have her number?”
Della shook her head as she scanned the streets and sidewalks, making sure André hadn’t followed them. “Her phone only works through the internet, so it’s not very reliable. I can send her an instant message, but I think we need to make sure we get to her house before André does.”