Chapter 8
The first few months of teaching had been long ones, and Christmas was Manny’s first real break. But all he could think to do was pace back and forth inside their apartment, contemplating how he could make a soccer ball out of balled-up rags, the way he’d done as a child.
“You ought to find a girl and spend the day with her,” his mother hinted as she gathered her supplies to go to the market.
“I need to meet one first, Mom. All the girls I knew at school have moved away.” He could never replace Celia, but he ached for someone else to love. It might have been easier if he and his family weren’t planning to leave for America this summer. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving another girlfriend, so he chatted with the girls who lived in nearby apartments, sometimes flirted with the ones who seemed friendly, but he never took it further than a few sentences. With Celia he could converse volumes in that amount of time, but not so with these girls. He kicked himself for the millionth time at not finding a way to get in touch with her after the volcano. It’s been seven months, Manny, he chided himself. Time to get on with your life.
Joana shook her finger at him. “I see plenty of pretty girls your age every day at the market. Why don’t you come along?” She gestured toward her card table. “You can help me carry everything.”
“Where’s Flora?” She was supposed to help their mother carry things down to the market when she wasn’t at school.
Joana tossed a few spools of thread into another bag, along with her scissors and a dress she had just finished for a customer. “She left early this morning to pass the time with her friends from school. It’s the holidays. I’m letting her have a few days off.”
Manny lifted the tote bags and the card table. “She has seemed happier lately . . . those few times I’ve actually seen her.”
Joana placed the sewing machine, an old black metal Singer, on her head and walked out of the open door of the apartment, bending her knees to pass under the door frame. “What can I say? She’s a normal sixteen-year-old, and it’s different for her here on the island of Santiago than it was for you on Fogo Island. She has more places to go.”
Manny followed her down the long set of stairs and out onto the streets, already bustling with women carrying water and others out for their morning runs. His mother made it her business to greet everyone they saw, exchanging small talk as they passed. That way, when it came time for them to order a dress or a blouse custom-made, they would remember the friendly woman with the sewing machine on her head.
Like many Cape Verdean women, she had raised her children on her own, but that had never been her plan. Manny’s father had been a good man, a carpenter, who came home for every meal and played with his children at night. He had died way too young of a burst appendix, when Flora was barely a year old and Manny was six. It was an unnecessary death, one that wouldn’t have happened in America, or even here on the island of Santiago, where they had a larger hospital.
Manny helped Joana set up her card table under a canopy at the edge of the market, where she would have room to measure her customers. Several fabric dealers had booths next to her, so customers could choose their cloth and then have Joana sew it up to order. This morning, though, she had no orders, so she made tote bags while Manny examined the various fabrics at the booth next to them.
“My son is on the lookout for a new girlfriend,” Joana joked with the fabric dealer as she cut out another tote bag. “You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone?”
Manny covered his face with his hands before the other woman gave him a sympathetic embrace. “You know what you need to do, Manny? Get yourself a temporary job for the holidays down at one of the resorts. They need extra people for the next couple of weeks. That’s where you’ll find all the pretty single women.”
Manny tipped his head back and nodded, considering. It actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. He was bored anyway, and he could use the money. If he happened to meet a new female friend, that would be a nice side benefit. He looked down at his clothes, the slacks and button-up shirt he usually wore for his job as a teacher. “How would I dress for that kind of job?” When he worked at a restaurant during college, they hadn’t expected much more than a clean shirt and pants, but working at a resort could be a different story.
The fabric dealer waved her hand as she looked him up and down. “Don’t worry. They have uniforms.” She took him by the shoulders and turned him to face the opposite side of the market, pointing with her finger. “The recruiters have a gigantic red car parked over there. That’s where they collect people. It’s such a big, expensive-looking thing, you can’t miss it. But you better hurry. They leave as soon as they fill it up.”
Manny sent a questioning look to his mother, who laughed. “You don’t need my permission, Manny. I can find someone to help me carry things home. Run along to the resort and meet some girls.”
With that, Manny took off running across the market, dodging around customers and displays, not sure if the money or the girls were more appealing. He found the red Humvee pulling away from the curb as he approached, but he sped up, shouting for the driver to stop. It pulled to a halt and a young man rolled down the window. “I’m looking for a job,” Manny said.
“What kind of experience do you have?” the man asked as American music blared from the stereo.
Manny explained to the young man about his experience working in a German restaurant during his years at the university and how he now taught English, math, and science to fourteen-year-olds.
“You’re a perfect fit for our poolside restaurant service. We need as many English speakers as we can get. Hop in.” The man swung the door open, and Manny squeezed into the front seat beside four other men and the driver. Ten or twelve other young men and women crowded into the back.
∞∞∞
Within an hour, Manny stood beside the most enormous swimming pool he could imagine. Foreigners relaxed on chaise lounges built into the circular floor of the pool, which was covered in bright green and blue mosaic patterns. An elaborate buffet of fancy seafood lined three long tables on one side of the pool. On the other side, a group of Cape Verdean women sang and danced.
His job was to take orders and deliver food and drinks.
A few minutes into his shift, his supervisor handed him a tray with a couple sodas and some fruit salad. “I’ve got to run and get some more shrimp salad from the kitchen. Do you mind taking these over to the blond boy in the red swimsuit over near the singers? He’s with one of the groupie girls in a white bikini.”
“Groupie girls?”
“The island girls who hang out on the beach, talking to the guests. This one’s here every week. She always manages to get herself invited to the pool.”
Manny took the tray and went off in search of the couple. He caught sight of them from halfway across the pool—the boy with his halo of yellow hair lying on a lounge chair in the sun and the groupie girl beside him in the smallest bikini he had ever seen. In fact, Manny thought the lenses on the girl’s oversized sunglasses might be bigger than the cups on her bikini top. He looked away, uncomfortable with the desperation of this island girl. This wasn’t at all the type of woman he hoped to meet today.
He kept his eyes on the blond boy as he approached, finally standing beside him and using his best American English. “Did you order a guava nectar and a lemonade with two fruit salads, sir?”
The guy puffed out his chest and sat up, raising the back of his lounge chair. “That’s ours.”
As Manny set the drinks on the table beside him, a voice called out. “Manny! What are you doing here?”
He looked toward the sound of the voice, and saw the groupie girl lowering her sunglasses to look at him. Only this wasn’t just any groupie girl. It was Flora! His little sister. She was the desperate island girl in the miniscule bikini!
This could not be happening. He let the two bowls of fruit salad clatter onto the glass tabletop and dropped his tray. “A better question,” he said, slipping out of English, “is what are you doing in that swimsuit?” He grabbed a hotel towel from a nearby chair and draped it over her body.
“I wore it to the beach. That’s where I met Lance. He’s helping me practice my English.” She pushed the towel aside and sat up to accept her lemonade from Lance. “Thank you.”
Trying to maintain his decorum in front of all these foreigners, Manny picked up his tray off the cement floor. He held it at his side as he bent to whisper to Flora. “I’m glad you’re practicing your English, but you still have a responsibility to Mom. She’s counting on you to help her out.”
Flora continued on in English, speaking loud enough for the guests around them to understand their argument. “Mom told me it was okay if I wanted to hang out with my friends today. It’s not like I can help her all that much. We only have one sewing machine. Once I finish cutting out the tote bags for the day, there’s nothing for me to do.”
Manny thought back to what the supervisor had told him about Flora being here all the time, and he hoped she was mistaken. “You haven’t been skipping school to come here, have you?”
Flora rolled her eyes at Lance and smiled. “Brothers! They’re so overprotective.”
“Have you been skipping school to come here, Flora?” He stood up and covered her with the towel again, tucking it in at the sides the way their mother tucked their blankets around them on cold nights. He couldn’t stand to look at her almost naked in public.
She wriggled free from the towel, handing it to Lance. “I’m learning more here about the English language and world cultures than I would at school. I’m learning by doing. Didn’t you once tell me that’s the best way?”
“Yes, but it seems you’re learning the wrong things. When we get to America, we’ll have to work hard. We won’t be sitting around swimming pools, drinking lemonade.”
“I know that, but can’t I enjoy myself when I get the chance? I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to be having fun.”
His grip loosened on the tray. She was right. She’d had a rough transition after the volcano—moving to a new home and having to make new friends. Manny knew how that could be. He’d had to make the same transition when he came to the university. At least he had been surrounded by people in the same situation, all of them anxious to make friends. “You should be having fun,” he said, “but only after you go to school, do your homework, and help Mom at the market.”
Manny glanced back at his supervisor, who stood near the buffet table, replacing the shrimp tray and watching him with curiosity. “We’ll have to talk about his later. I have to get back to work.” Turning to the boy, he spoke in English. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Can you bring us some more napkins?” Lance asked.
Manny had the feeling this guy wanted to do a lot more than talk about the English language with his little sister. What teenage boy could even think about language when a girl wore a swimsuit like that? But he pressed his lips into a polite smile. “I’d be happy to, sir.”
He carried his tray back toward the kitchen, replaying the conversation in his mind. Had he been too harsh? Ever since he had become a teacher, Manny felt more and more like a parent figure for Flora. It made sense that he would. She was only three years older than the kids he taught at school. Still, three years made a big difference during the teen years. She was almost old enough to be on her own now, but still liable to make mistakes. Big mistakes.
Celia was this same age when he left for college—only sixteen years old, so young. How could he have expected her to wait four years for him? After living with Flora, the idea seemed ludicrous. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Celia ended up with that soccer player. He just hoped he was a nicer guy to Celia than he’d been to Manny.
By the time Manny took his dirty tray to the kitchen and found some napkins, Flora stood at the buffet table with a towel wrapped around herself. “You’re not going to tell Mom about this, are you?”
He handed her the napkins, missing the days when he could simply swat her bottom if she misbehaved. “She thinks you’re hanging out with friends from school. You can’t keep letting her believe something that’s not true.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked at him with worried eyes. “Do you think she’ll be upset that I’ve been coming to the resort?”
He took his order book out of his back pocket and walked toward his section of tables. He was here to work, after all, and in the last ten minutes, he’d done less than half of the work he should have done. “I don’t think Mom would mind so much about you coming to the resort if you were making friends with girls.”
Flora followed along beside him. “Girls are so snobby. They’re always gossiping.” She stopped as they approached her table. “You’re not going to tell her about the bikini, are you?”
He raised his eyebrows. As embarrassing as it would be to tell her, his mother definitely needed to know about the bikini. “Where did you even get that thing?”
“I made it with some of Mom’s fabric scraps.” A hint of pride flashed across her face before she pushed her lips into a pout and clasped her hands in front of her. “What if I promise you I won’t wear it ever again?”
He cringed, unsure how to phrase what he needed to say. “Next time you make yourself a swimsuit, it needs to be a lot . . . bigger. You should ask Mom for help.” She squinted and her mouth formed a hard line. He could tell he wasn’t explaining his feelings well. “Look, Flora, it’s not because you’re not a beautiful girl. It’s because that suit is going to attract the wrong kind of man.”
She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. “You are so old fashioned, Manny. You and Mom don’t realize what it’s like for me here. You want me to be perfect all the time with perfect friends and perfect marks in school. It’s not that easy Manny. I’m not perfect like you.”
An older man in the midst of the crowd raised his hand, trying to catch Manny’s attention. Manny nodded to the man and then lowered his voice. “Mom and I don’t expect you to be perfect. We just want you to do your best. I have to get back to work, but I’ll just say that when I first saw you from across the pool, I didn’t recognize you.” He couldn’t help thinking of the beautiful red dress Celia wore the last time he’d seen her, and how she’d dreamed of going to America so that her children would be secure. “We’re going to America so you can get a good education. We’re going to work hard when we get there. It’s not going to be like this.” With that, he headed over toward the older man to see what he wanted.
Flora called after him. “So, you won’t tell Mom about the suit?” She had completely missed the point, and Manny’s head began to ache as he took the man’s order for a mixed drink. This wasn’t at all what he had pictured when the fabric dealer told him he could meet pretty girls at the resort.