Page 94 of In a Far-Off Land
Ay, caramba.Was that Lupita?
The master of ceremonies was speaking into a megaphone, but his flowery speech did not penetrate Oscar’s thoughts. Lupita did not look like Lupita, and yet she did. She stood upon the float—no—she reigned upon the float. She wore a bright red skirt with some kind of ruffling, with a belt and a full lacy top, and her hair gleamed like a black waterfall on her shoulders. She looked—she didn’t look like the girl he knew.
“. . . the young woman who most exemplifies the qualities of the Mexican maiden: honor, beauty, and obedience.” The announcer’s words began to make sense in his addled mind. “Miss Guadeloupe Francesca Martina Garcia!”
The crowded erupted in applause. Themariachiband struck up a new tune, and Lupita smiled sweetly—the smile he knew so well. Of course she deserved to be crowned queen. Of course she was honorable, beautiful, and obedient—he could have told them that. So why was he suddenly filled with a desire to whisk her off the float and wrap her in a blanket? It was ridiculous. He forced himself to join in the clapping and told himself he was happy for Lupita. Of course he was.
The float continued on and he stood straight, craning to catch her eye but to no avail, and as the crowd surged onto the street to follow behind, his heart did a curious dip and his mood dimmed as if the sun had unexpectedly stopped shining.
He didn’t see Lupita again until evening, at the street dance.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” Angel said. He helda tall glass of watermelon drink in one hand and a churro in the other.
“Somebody has to keep an eye on Roman,” Oscar grumbled. The boy ran with the rowdy crowd and probably snuck some tequila into their punch. Angel didn’t look like he believed him. Oscar stood at a good vantage point, where he could see Raul make a fool of himself dancing with a woman old enough to be his mother. And there was Lupita, surrounded by men old enough to know better and boys not old enough to shave.
“Ask her to dance,” Angel said gently.
Oscar scowled. He’d been watching long enough to know she had danced every dance and hardly had time to catch her breath between songs. She certainly didn’t have time for him. Angel patted his arm—santo cielo,he didn’t need comforting—then went off to pay his respects to Mamá and the church women, who sat in straight-backed chairs overseeing the dancing.
Oscar went home, even before his mother, and lay down in his bed. The house was silent except for the muted strains of the trumpets and guitar coming from the street. He wouldn’t worry about Roman, or about Lupita being plied with compliments. Why should he care? And yet sleep was a long time coming.
——————
Oscar stood beneath the oak tree two nights later, congratulating himself for successfully avoiding Lupita since the festival. He’d spent his time looking for work, as he should. Brody had given him some leads on jobs—one in Santa Monica looked hopeful, driving one of the bigwigs from the cannery around. He’d go there tomorrow and hope they didn’t mind that he was a Mexican.
He was glad Lupita didn’t come outside to see him in theevenings anymore. It seemed like every man in thecoloniabetween twelve and fifty had knocked on Lupita’s door in the past two days. She’d received so many bouquets of lilies and roses that she’d taken to giving them to Mamá, and now his house smelled like a cheap perfume factory.
But when he saw the crack of light spill between their houses and a slight form coming across the grass toward him, he straightened up and his heart jumped in a strange and unwelcome way. Then it plummeted straight to his knees. “What in the name of heaven did you do?”
Her hair—her beautiful long hair—was cut short, just below the line of her chin. It shone like a dark cap in smooth waves. How could she?
“You don’t like it?” She didn’t seem surprised or at all worried about his reaction.
“I...” The cut framed her face and made her eyes even more luminous, the curve of her face more pronounced. He most certainly did not like it. And the dress. It was something Minerva Sinclaire might have worn. Robin’s-egg blue with short, fluttery sleeves that showed Lupita’s smooth arms. A cut that was reasonably modest, he had to admit, but still revealed her curves more than he thought was appropriate. “Why would you do such a thing?”
She didn’t answer the question. “I saw you at the parade.”
So she had seen him. Somehow that didn’t make him feel better. His brain didn’t seem able to form a response. “The parade,sí. Congratulations, you were very...” He didn’t know what he had in mind, but the curve of her lips made him forget whatever it had been.
She laughed, probably at how tongue-tied he suddenly was with her. “Very what?” she asked.
“Pretty.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. Womanly? That sounded wrong. “And at the dance. You had... many admirers.” Why had he said that? It sounded like he’d been watching her. Which he had. He stepped back and stuck his hands in his pockets.
Lupita smiled even wider. “I do not care about those boys. They are children.”
He heart felt like lead in his chest. It was exactly what he feared. With the prize money from thefestivales, the new clothes and bobbed hair. “You will leave us.”
Lupita frowned. “Leave you?”
He tried to work up anger but all he felt was fear. Fear, and an ache somewhere close to his beating heart. “Why else all this?” He motioned to take in the dress and hair. “You want to be anamericanalike Minerva Sinclaire, like...” Like her sister, Maria Carmen. “You will run away, and we will never see you again.” He could hear panic in his own voice and was past caring.
“Oh, Oscar.” Lupita stepped closer to him, shaking her head. “You really are a stupid man.”
Then she stretched up on her toes and kissed him.
Lupita kissed him. And it wasn’t like the other kiss, the one that had been meant for Maria Carmen. This was sweet and short and wise. Just like Lupita. He didn’t have time to react. Didn’t know what he would have done had he been able to think. His hands stayed in his pockets, his eyes open. He didn’t even kiss her back.
His mind spun like a tornado. Was this goodbye? He couldn’t bear it if it was. Why hadn’t he seen before that Lupita was leaving them? Why had he not known what it would do to his heart? Could he stop her, or was it too late?
