“Mortgage the house,” said Bert suddenly, out of nowhere. “We’ll mortgage the house.”
But he didn’t mortgage the house. Not for a while.
Benita said, “Carlito, while you and your dad are figuring out the gallery business, why don’t you enroll at UNM? I know your test scores and grades weren’t great, but you can get student aid, and it’s right here in town, and you can study art . . .” Benita, trying to move him but not telling him about the secret bank account, not until he, himself, was committed to going on. That had been Mami at her most succinct.
The bait only works if the fish is hungry.
Carlos was unresponsive. “Aw, Mom. Leave me alone. I need a break from school. I’m not ready for college. I need to, you know, give this gallery thing a chance! Have a time of self discovery!”
Three separate times Goose or Marsh or Benita herself found jobs for Carlos, but Carlos didn’t want a steady job. He preferred to sleep until noon, to take long, long showers, eat like a lion and go out with friends most nights. He worked for his grandfather at the salvage yard every now and then, just long enough to earn money for his car, or when he needed money for gas or repairs. Now and then he’d get some odd job with his friends, moving furniture or bussing tables. The rest of the time he ate, watched television, slept, and drove around all night with several other young men who were doing pretty much the same thing.
The bait only works if the fish is hungry, Benita would say to herself, wiping her eyes, remembering Mami’s face when she said it. You couldn’t make a fish hungry. You just had to wait.
So long as Benita let Carlos alone, he seemed contented enough. If she tried to push him, he retreated into gloom. The sulks, her father said, who had no patience with the boy. Melancholia, Benita read in nineteenth-century books. Depression, Marsh said, but then Marsh had a family that reveled in despondency. The doctor prescribed antidepressants, but Carlos refused to take them.
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Leave me alone.”
Two years like that. He was nineteen going on twenty when Angelica graduated, proudly presenting her mother not only with her diploma but also a letter from a California university granting her a scholarship! One of her teachers had applied for her, and she had saved the news for a surprise.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, Mama. Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve always wanted to go to California. The scholarship won’t be enough, all by itself, but I’ll get a job, and maybe a student loan . . .”
That was when Benita held her close, crying happily, and told her about the secret bank account. Don’t tell Daddy, dear. You know why. But shortly thereafter, Angelica, all unthinking innocence, told Carlos.
He was waiting for Benita when she came home from work, his nose pinched, his face haughty. “Angelica told me you’d been saving money for us. I think I deserve half of it!”
“I saved it for my children’s education,” she said, her own cheeks pink with resentment at his tone. “And if you’re in college, you’ll get half of it.”
“I prefer to take it in cash, now. Dad and I can use it to help start the gallery.” Haughty, that Iprefer.Arrogant.
She swallowed deeply, hating his tone, his resentments, his pomposity, hating the fact she could not meet any of it without tears and pain. She hated the way he resented anything she did for Angelica, as though his sister were negligible, not worth the investment. He got that from his father. Bert was big on the worthlessness of women. The books said sibling rivalry was normal, that confrontation was an ordinary thing, a difference of opinion, it should not hurt like this!
“The gallery plans are between you and your father, Carlito. I was never part of them, so it’s up to you and him to make those plans come true. My plan has always been for your education. The money will be used for that only, for one or both of my children. If you don’t want to go on to school, if you aren’t ready to do so, then Angelica can use the money.”