Part 1: Nueva Casa
Winston reveals Jesus' father (Smith Johnson) caused Lupe's death; gives Jesus a camera; says he can live with Layla if accepted to university; Rodrigo comes looking for Andrea but is chased off by Osito.
After Jesus returned from Baja Leai, he felt like a palpable change had occurred. Maybe it was just that he had lost perspective spending so much time at the orphanage, but the events of the preceding months left him with a distinctly different mindset. Something had changed, a concrete shift in his thinking. Even his face had changed. His jaw seemed more angular, eyes more alert in the mirror. His eighteenth birthday was only months away, and with it, the reality that he would transition out of the direct care of Sophia, and maybe travel to Baja Leai University to study … English? Communications?
Journalism? His thoughts of becoming a poet became childish in his mind as he faced the looming reality of higher education. He doubted that the school offered a poetry major.
Classes seemed to become more difficult in the weeks leading up to winter break. Sophia justified this by stating that they had missed a full week of school during the trip, but it seemed that the culprit of such a greatly increased workload couldn’t solely be a single week of missed work. The Senora assigned more homework and began to demand more from those living at the orphanage, on top of their normal working responsibilities. The tutoring sessions between Jesus and Juan were almost daily now, as the slower student was determined to keep up with the faster pace. Jesus noticed that he was becoming increasingly frustrated with his lack of natural aptitude, and Jesus in turn redoubled his mentoring efforts, trying new ways to teach Juan. He made flash cards for English. He had Juan make flowcharts for Spanish. Math was the hardest, but bit after bit, Juan began to assimilate algebra and geometry. He had come a long way since that summer, but he still had a long way to go before he was completely caught up with the rest of the class. Jesus made it his personal goal to ensure that Juan received the same education as everyone else.
He began reading The Great Gatsby, another selection by Senora. This time, he didn’t struggle as badly to make his way through the text. Occasionally, he had to use context clues or a dictionary to discern the meaning of a word, but now he could read pages at a time without losing comprehension. He found Gatsby to be an interesting and passionate personality whom he wished to be like, but in many ways he felt more like the narrator, an all-but-invisible wallflower. The feeling was accentuated by his observation of Christian and Miriam’s budding affection. He felt conflicted because Christian had always been a loyal and good friend to him, but he couldn’t help but teeter between jealousy and acceptance.
Jesus also made it a point to exercise and play soccer as best as he could at least a few times a week in the hopes of strengthening his weakened joints and bones. Slowly but surely, his speed and strength returned to him, but every morning he would wake up with his leg feeling sore and tight, making it a struggle just to roll out of bed in the morning. Once he began moving around and using his body, the pain disappeared, only to re-appear later when he came to rest. It was bothersome, but his body and mind adjusted to it, and it became part of his daily routine. He would let hot water run over the injured portion and knead the muscles with his thumbs.
At the beginning of December, Winston made another visit. Jesus was washing clothes in the morning when the stout, long hair American approached him. He was wearing an unseasonable Hawaiian-themed short sleeve button up shirt, khaki shorts, sandals, and his signature fedora. On his wrist glistened a golden time piece. Around his neck dangled the bulky portable camera.
“Hey champ, how are you liking that record player?” He said.
“It’s great. I listen to it a lot. Sophia bought me another record,” Jesus said, “You know, I have a lot of questions to ask you.”
“I thought you might. Ask away, but I can’t make any promises of answers.”
Jesus paused for a short moment before continuing. He put down the shirt that he had been scrubbing against the washboard.
“When we visited Baja Leai, I met a woman named Layla. She was surprised to learn that we had met. Why is that?”
“I haven’t seen Layla in a very long time. We used to be friends. I can’t imagine that she would have any reason to know that we’ve met.”
“You went to the university, too?”
“Yeah, I got my bachelor’s there.”
“What did you do after school?” Jesus asked. Winston came over beside him and sat down before answering.
“I traveled, mostly. Set up some businesses and went to China for a while.”
“Do you speak Chinese?”
“A little.”
“I don’t know why you would come back here. You’re American, right?”
“I grew up in Chicago, but most of my life I spent on the road. I never stayed in one place for too long.”
Jesus nodded, and said, “How do you know my mother?”
“I met her when I was traveling around Mexico. She was the daughter of one of my clients, Carlos.”
“What about my dad, did you know him?”
“Yeah, I knew him,” Winston said, sighing, “I’m sad to say he wasn’t a very good man. We’re alike in that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You could say that he was responsible for the death of your mother, and responsible for you being an orphan.”
Jesus stood up, infuriated, “Where is he? If he killed my mother, I’ll kill him,” Jesus said through gritted teeth.
“Relax, champ. It wasn’t like that. He loved your mother like a bird loves air.”
“Then how could he kill her?”
“Sometimes you hurt the people that you love.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a very long time.”
Jesus contemplated this, then said, “What were their names, my parents?”
“Your mother was named Lupe Castillo and your father Smith Johnson.”
“If he loved my mom so much, why did he leave me after she died?”
“He was a traveler, like me. He belonged to the road.”
“He’s a bastard and a deadbeat.”
Winston nodded, “I never said he was a good guy. But, he did one good thing. He had me make sure that you ended up in the care of Osito and Sophia. He wanted you to be safe, and to be educated,”
He said, “Did you take that scholarship exam at the university?”
“Yeah, we all did.”
“How do you think you did?”
“I don’t know. Good, I guess.”
Winston nodded approvingly. “Sophia tells me that you’re getting pretty good at English.”
Jesus switched to English, “Yes, I learn English every day in school,” He said in a heavy accent.
Winston switched, too. “English is the language of the world. You need to be fluent in it if you want to travel or be at all worldly.”
“I like how it sounds. I read books in English, but I don’t talk a lot,” He said, stumbling over the words sluggishly.
Winston switched back to the more comfortable Spanish, “If you are accepted into Baja Leai University, you can live with Layla. I’ve talked to her, and asked to do this for me. She owes me a favor.”
“Okay, but what if I don’t get in?”
“I have a feeling you will,” He said, “One last thing.”
He took the camera out from around his neck, “I want you to have this. Take photos of Nueva Casa and your friends here at the orphanage so you can have something to remember your childhood by,”
He showed Jesus how to operate the camera, “Here are a couple rolls of film. It’s important that you keep these in a dark place. The light will ruin the film. Next time I see you, I’ll take these to get them developed, and you will have your photos forever.”
Jesus thanked him for the surprising gift, “I’ll see you later, champ. Keep your head up,”
Winston said, and with that, he disappeared again.
What a strange man.
Still, there was something about Winston, between his innate confidence and charisma that spoke to Jesus, as if he had known him his whole life.
Later that day, after class was over, Jesus was walking to the bakery to bring Christian and Osito some salt, when Rodrigo suddenly approached him from out of the tree line that he had smoked with Andrea. He was alone, without his goon brothers, which was unusual, looking downtrodden and desperate. His eyes were black and sunken, as if he hadn’t slept, and he seemed even more thin and gaunt than usual.
“Jesus, hey man, sorry about last time, but have you seen Andrea? I really need to talk to her, man. I’m really sorry about that last time,” He pleaded.
Jesus was stunned. The tables had indeed turned, “Are you ok?” Jesus asked. It was apparent that Rodrigo wasn’t.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to talk to Andrea. I haven’t seen her anywhere, and I need to talk to her,” He said nervously.
Jesus sensed that it wasn’t in anyone’s best interests to find her. She was probably in the girl’s dorm, studying. He unconsciously glanced towards the orphanage, noting the blinds were shut in the women’s dorm.
Rodrigo must have caught his glance when he said, “She’s in there, isn’t she? Has she been hiding from me? I’m going to go find her,” He started hastily making his way to the door.
“Wait! Don’t go in there. I think … I think she’s working in the bakery. Let me go find her,” He bluffed, and opened up the back door of the bakery.
“Did you get that salt?” Said Osito from inside.
“Yeah, but you better come here quick.”
“What is it?” Osito said.
Jesus glanced over his shoulder, hoping that Rodrigo couldn’t hear them talk, “Rodrigo is here.
He’s looking for Andrea.”
Osito stopped what he was doing and took off his gloves. Rolling his sleeves up, he said, “Jesus, stay in here for a few minutes and help Christian. And bring that salt.”
Jesus complied, but when Osito left to confront Rodrigo, Christian and he both rushed over to peek through the back door. They watched as the frightened Rodrigo was cornered and run off like a dog.
Jesus couldn’t make out exactly what Osito had said to him, but by his body language, he could ascertain that he wasn’t at all pleased to see him.
Later on, he told Andrea about the incident.
“Figures. I thought he might do something like that,” She said, setting a cup of tea down on the kitchen counter. She was cleaning the dishes left over from dinner, “Hey kid, wanna smoke?” She said, producing a joint from her shirt.
“Sure.”
They walked outside, leaving the remainder of the dirty dishes behind. It was chilly outside, and little moonlight shone through the dense cloud cover. They went to the tree line where Rodrigo had appeared only hours earlier, and she lit up the tightly rolled doobie.
“I stopped seeing him a couple weeks ago. He was getting on my nerves,” She took a puff and exhaled. Jesus nodded knowingly. The ember of the joint burned like a firefly in the thick darkness.
Jesus watched as it intensified to a bright orange, outlining Andrea’s features. She was beautiful, tall, and dark, with a thin nose and angular eyebrows that made her always appear slightly irritated. Jesus took the joint and hit it, and they took turns smoking in the dark.
“Thanks for not telling him anything. He’s crazy,” She said after a long silence.
“I know. He looked even worse than usual when I saw him.”
“He’s been doing coke. I told him to stop because he’s using it too much, but he wouldn’t listen,”
She said. His strung out appearance and strange actions fit the profile of a deranged cokehead.
“The guy is dangerous. I hope he doesn’t do anything too crazy,” Jesus said.
“Yeah, me too.”
Jesus turned his body to fully face Andrea. “You know, you and Rodrigo aren’t too different?”
Andrea appeared slightly offended by the comment, “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know, he’s sort of a bad boy. And you’re sort of a bad girl.”
“Does this,” She said, motioning at the joint, “Make me a bad girl? Because if so, I think you have a lot to learn about life.”
“Not just this, but that’s part of it. I guess it’s just something about the way you are.”
“Maybe one day I’ll show you how bad I can be.”
Jesus laughed nervously, but something in Andrea’s expression told him that it wasn’t meant as a joke. There was something primal in Andrea’s expression. Something almost predatory. Suddenly, Jesus felt cold.
Now it was Andrea’s turn to laugh. “Relax, kid. I’m just kidding. You look like you saw a ghost. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He laughed again half-heartedly and watched as she snubbed out the joint. Stoned, the duo returned inside. Jesus took a shower to get the smell off him, and Andrea finished the dishes. He laid in bed in a cloudy daydream, listening to Strawberry Fields Forever by The Beatles.
The music took him on a psychedelic journey in his mind. The grungy electric guitar emanating from the record player pulsated and jived like the ripples in a pond after a stone has been thrown into its murky depths, the ebb and flow of the waves tickling Jesus’ mind. Each song on The White Album lasted an hour. and they seemed to tell a story, a beautiful tale of innocence and love. Of tender forgiveness and motherly mercy. Of vivid colors and unforgettable textures, smells, and tastes. Of a world just outside of the grasp of reality, where nothing could go wrong. The peaceful, otherworldly serenity carried him off into a deep slumber.