The lime-green of spring came one night and touched the river trees. Dark buds appeared on branches, and it seemed that the same sleeping sap that fed them began to churn through my brothers. I sensed their restlessness, and I began to understand why the blood of spring is called the bad blood. It was bad not because it brought growth, that was good, but because it raised from dark interiors the restless, wild urges that lay sleeping all winter. It revealed hidden desires to the light of the new warm sun.
My brothers had spent the winter sleeping during the day and in town at night. They were like turgid animals who did things mechanically. I saw them only in the evening when they rose to clean up and eat. Then they were gone. I heard in whispers that they were wasting their service money in the back room of the Eight Ball Pool Hall. My mother worried about them almost as much as she had when they were at war, but she said nothing. As long as they were back she was happy.
My father increased his pleas that they plan a future with him in California, but they only nodded. They did not hear their father. They were like lost men who went and came and said nothing.
I thought that perhaps it was their way of forgetting the war, because we knew the war-sickness was in them. León had shown the sickness most.
Sometimes at night he howled and cried like a wild animal… And I remembered Lupito at the river…
Then my mother had to go to him and hold him like a baby until he could sleep again. It wasn’t until he began to have long talks with Ultima and she gave him a remedy that he got better. His eyes were still sad, as they had always been, but there was a gleam of hope for the future in them and he could rest nights. So I thought perhaps they were all sick with the war and trying to forget it.
But with spring they became more restless. The money they had mustered out with was gone, and they had signed notes in town and gotten into trouble. It made my mother sad, and it slowly killed my father’s dream. One warm afternoon while I fed the rabbits they talked, and I listened.
“We have to get the hell out’a here,” Eugene said nervously, “this hick town is killing me!” Although he was the youngest he had always been the leader.
“Yeah. It’s hell to have seen half the world then come back to this,” León nodded across the river to the small town of Guadalupe. He always took his cues from Gene even though he was the oldest of the three.
“It’s that Márez blood itching,” Andrew laughed. Andrew listened to them, but he would not necessarily be led by Gene. Andrew liked to be his own man.
It was true, I thought, it is the Márez blood in us that touches us with the urge to wander. Like the restless, seeking sea.
“I don’t care what it is, Andy!” Eugene shot back. “I just feel tied down here! I can’t breathe!”
“And papá is still talking about California,” León said dreamily. “That’s a bunch of bullshit!” Gene spit. “He knows damn well mamá
would never move—”
“And that we won’t go with him,” Andrew finished.
Eugene scowled. “That’s right! We won’t! He doesn’t realize we’re grown men now. Hell, we fought a war! He had his time to run around, now he’s getting old, and he still has the kids to think about. Why should we be tied down to him?”
Andrew and León looked at Gene and they knew he was speaking the truth. The war had changed them. Now they needed to lead their own lives.
“Yeah,” Andrew said softly.
“It’s either California, or going to work on the highway with him—” León thought aloud.
“Bullshit!” Gene exclaimed. “Why does it have to be just those two choices! Man, I’ve been thinking. If we got together we could move to Las Vegas, Santa Fe, maybe even Albuquerque. There’s work there, we could rent—”
Andrew and León were looking at their brother intently. His forwardness and audacity often caught them off guard.
“Man, we could save up, buy a car, women—” “Yeah, Gene,” León nodded.
“It’d be great,” Andrew agreed.
“We could go to Denver, Frisco, hell the sky’s the limit!” His voice quavered. His excitement carried to his brothers.
“Gene, you’ve got beautiful ideas!” León beamed. He was proud of his brother. He himself would never have dared to think so far.
“Well let’s not just sit around and talk about it, let’s do it! Let’s cut out!
Move!”
“I can see the action now,” León rubbed his hands, “money, booze, women—”
“Yeah! You’re my boy!” Gene socked him.
“What about the folks?” It was Andrew who asked. They were quiet momentarily.
“Hell, Andy, they’re doing okay,” Gene said. “Ain’t the old man working steady. We’ll send them money when we can—”
“I didn’t mean that,” Andrew said. “What?” I waited. I knew what he meant.
“I mean papá’s dream about moving to California, and mamá wanting us to settle along the valley—” he said. They looked at each other uneasily. All their lives they had lived with the dreams of their father and mother haunting them, like they haunted me.
“Hell, Andy,” Gene said softly, “we can’t build our lives on their dreams. We’re men, Andy, we’re not boys any longer. We can’t be tied down to old dreams—”
“Yeah,” Andrew answered, “I guess inside I know you’re right.” I felt very sad when he said that. I did not want to lose my brothers again.
“And, they still have Tony,” Gene said and looked at me. “Tony will be her priest,” he laughed.
“Tony will be her farmer,” León added.
“And her dream will be complete and we will be free!” Gene shouted. “Yahooooooo!” They jumped and shouted with joy. They danced and
wrestled each other, and they rolled on the ground like wild animals, shouting and laughing.
“What’da yah say, Tony, you goin’ be her priest!” “Bless us, Tony!” They knelt on the ground and raised their arms up and then down towards
me. I grew frightened at their wild actions, but I found enough strength to shout at them.
“I will bless you!” I cried and made the sign of the cross, like I had done in the dream.
“You little bastard!” they laughed. They grabbed me, took off my pants and took turns spanking me. Then they tossed me on the roof of the chicken coop.
“This calls for a celebration!” Gene shouted. “Yeah!”
“I will bless you!” I cried down at the three, giant figures, but they took no heed of me.
“Hey! We’ll have to say goodbye to the girls at Rosie’s!” Gene laughed and they both socked Andrew on the shoulder. Andrew grinned.
I remembered when we took our cow to Serrano’s bull. It was a cold, misty Saturday. When the bull smelled the cow he jumped his pasture fence and came towards the truck. He circled us, snorting and pawing at the ground. I was very frightened. Finally we could open the tailgate of the truck and let the cow out. Immediately the massive weight of the bull was on her, humping her down, my father and Serrano were laughing and slapping their knees. They laughed until their eyes watered. Then they took turns drinking from a whiskey bottle, and they lowered their voices and talked about the girls at Rosie’s.
“Whoopeeeee!” They shouted. They were like wild bulls running down the goat path towards town.
“See you Toni-eeeeee….” they called. And their dark outlines were lost in the setting sun.
I got down and put my pants on. It hurt where they had spanked me. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh with them. There was an empty feeling inside, not because they spanked me, but because they would be gone again.
They would be lost again.
I remembered when they built our house. They were like giants then.
Would they always be lost to me?
I wanted to cry after them, I bless you.
