Bless Me, Ultima(29)

Now it was my brother’s turn to shrink back. Eugene mumbled an apology. They knew that it was within the power of the father to curse his sons, and ay! a curse laid on a disobedient son or daughter was irrevocable. I knew the stories of many bad sons and daughters who had angered their parents to the point of the disowning curse. Ay, those poor children had met the very devil himself or the earth had opened in their path and swallowed them. In any case the cursed children were never heard of again.

I saw my mother make the sign of the cross, and I too prayed for Eugene.

“What is it you want?” my mother sobbed. “You have been gone so long, and now that you have just returned you want to leave again—”

“And what about California,” my father sighed.

“We don’t want to make you sad, mamá.” León went to her and put his arm around her. “We just want to live our own lives.”

“We don’t want to go to California,” Eugene said emphatically. “We just want to be on our own, move to Santa Fe and work—”

“You are forsaking me,” my mother cried afresh.

“There will be no one left to help me move west—” my father whispered, and it seemed that a great load was placed on his shoulders.

“We are not forsaking you, mamá,” Andrew said.

“We are men now, mamá,” Gene said.

“Ay, Márez men,” she said stoically and turned to my father. “The Márez blood draws them away from home and parents, Gabriel,” she said. My father looked at her then bowed his head. The same wandering blood in his veins was in his sons. The restlessness of his blood had destroyed his dream, defeated him. He understood that now. It was very sad to see.

“You still have Tony,” León said.

“Thanks be to God,” my mother said, but there was no joy in her voice.

In the morning León and Eugene were gone, but Andrew remained. They had talked long into the night, and finally he had given up the idea of going with them. I think he did not like to follow their ways, and he wanted to please my mother. Then too he had been offered a job at Allen’s Food Market and so the urge for adventure did not pull him away. I was glad. I had always felt close to Andrew, and if I had to lose two of my brothers I was glad Andrew was not one of them.

That morning I walked to school with Andrew.

“Why didn’t you go with León and Gene?” I asked.

“Ah, I got a job here, start today. So I figure I can do as well here as they do up in Vegas.”

“Will you miss them?”

“Sure.”

“I will too—”

“And I’ve been thinking a lot about finishing school—” he said.

“School?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “why, you think I’m too old?”

“No,” I said. I lied. I could not imagine this figure of my dreams in school.

“Sure,” he went on, “I only had a few credits to go before León, Gene and me signed up—if there’s one thing I learned in the army, it’s that the guy with an education gets ahead. So I work and get some classes out of the way, get my diploma—”

We walked in silence. It was good what he said about learning. It made me feel good that I put so much effort into it.

“Do you have a girl?” I asked.

He looked at me sternly and I thought he was going to be mad. Then he smiled and said, “Ay chango, you ask too many questions! No I don’t have a girl. Girls are only trouble when a man is young and wanting to get ahead. A girl wants to get married right away—”

“How will you get ahead?” I asked. “Will you become a farmer?”

“No,” he chuckled.

“Will you become a priest?” I held my breath.

He laughed. Then he stopped, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Look, Tony, I know what you’re thinking about. You’re thinking about mamá and papá, you’re thinking of their wishes—but it’s too late for us, Tony. León, Gene, me, we can’t become farmers or priests, we can’t even go to California with papá like he wants.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We just can’t,” he grimaced. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because the war made men out of us too fast, maybe it’s because their dreams were never real to begin with—I guess if anyone is going to fit into their dreams it’s going to have to be you, Tony. Just don’t grow up too fast,” he added.

I thought about what he said as we walked to the bridge. I wondered if I would grow up too fast, I yearned for knowledge and understanding and yet I wondered if it would make me lose my dreams. Andrew said it was up to me, and I wanted to be a good son, but the dreams of my mother were opposite the wishes of my father. She wanted a priest to watch over the farmers of the valley; he wanted a son to travel with him to the vineyards of California.