With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo
Surprises
I didn’t think I would be accepted into Drexel. My grade point average was a little below what they say a student needs, so I’m still shocked. Unlike the guidance counselor in middle school, Ms. Fuentes pushed me to apply even though it was a reach school. It’s close to home. It’s a great school. And it has a culinary arts program that focuses not only on cooking, but also on restaurant management.
But I don’t know how I’ll help pay bills if I’m also paying for school.
“’Buela, I need to talk to you,” I say to her the next day after dinner. She mutes the TV and beams at me. Ever since my Drexel acceptance all she can do is smile at me or tear up.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up about Drexel. I didn’t get full financial aid, and well, doesn’t it make more sense for me to get a job instead of going into debt?”
’Buela doesn’t stop smiling. She blinks as if she’s waiting for the punch line of the joke but when I just repeat myself she shakes her head. “What do you mean, Emoni? This is a dream come true.”
I shake my head. “I want to be in a kitchen, not in a classroom. You know I’m no good at school. What if I waste time and money and still fail my classes?”
“Emoni, you’ve loved your Culinary Arts class this year. I know you told me this would have more chemistry, and you’re afraid of not doing well, but once you have a degree no one can take that away from you. You’ll just have to work hard.”
I wish I could explain that I do work hard, even in the classes I don’t do well in. It’s not my effort that makes learning in those classes so difficult for me. But I also know I’m not thirteen anymore. Last time I let a guidance counselor convince me I wasn’t good enough to go to the school of my choice. This time around will I be the one holding myself back?
“Emoni, I’ve been waiting a long time for you to be able to go out into the world and fly. Do you want to know where I go when I’m pretending to be at the doctor’s?”
I asked the one time and never asked again. ’Buela made it very clear it was none of my business. I don’t know if I should nod or shake my head so I just stand still. Oh God. Oh God. What if ’Buela is sick? What if she just wanted me all settled because she knew something was wrong? The wall behind me is the only reason I’m standing. I brace myself for her words.
“I go to the doctor so much because sometimes I need to get away from all of . . .” She swirls her hand in the air and “all of” must mean everything in the house. “I go to the doctor to remind myself I am more than a great-grandmother to a toddler, and a grandmother to a teen mother, and a mother to a rascal of a son.”
She clears her throat. “Okay. . . . The real reason I ‘go to the doctor’ so much is because of Joseph, Mr. Jagoda.” She doesn’t look at me when she says all this and I see a blush is climbing up her brown cheek. My grandmother is blushing like a girl with her first crush. “And he’s been courting me. You know he’s the office manager at his son’s doctor’s office and he’s nice to me and he took me to dinner at that fancy restaurant, and we get coffee on the weekends, and have been to a movie. He has his accent from Poland. And I have my Puerto Rican accent. We talk all the time and mostly we just sit silently. And that’s probably the nicest part. I haven’t sat quietly next to a man in a long time. I haven’t had someone who wasn’t depending on me to sew up the tears, a companion, in a long time. And nena, it’s . . .” She pats her chest, and I know just what she means. “He isn’t perfect! I mean, he’s a Giants fan, for God’s sake, but he makes me feel like a woman. Not only a mother so many times removed.”
I don’t know what to say to her. Her face has taken on a different look. Not so tight and pinched around the mouth; the wrinkles on her forehead have smoothed out and she drops the hand she was just swirling into the air right back onto her heart.
I sit on the couch next to her and then push my arms around her. “Oh, ’Buela. Thank goodness. I’m so glad you aren’t sick or, I don’t know, sitting on a park bench by yourself just to get away from us. And Mr. Jagoda? You’re right, he’s been so nice. I’m so glad you have someone.” I squeeze her tight.
Her voice is thick when she breaks the silence. “He asked me to move in with him. He wants to marry me. And of course, I would never leave you and Babygirl. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. Pero, Emoni, sometimes it feels nice to dream.”
I don’t lift my hand to wipe my cheeks. “But ’Buela, if this is what you want, don’t you have to set a good example for me?”
She hiccups a laugh and pulls back from me. “I’ve taught you a lot, Emoni Santiago. And what I have been most proud of is what you learned about sacrifice and responsibilities. I can’t shirk mine, either.”
“’Buela, I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me.” I remove my arms fully from around her. “That’s my baby in there, you’ve done enough. Marry your Joe. We’re going to be just fine.”