way.
I used to go out with my friends all the time. I practically lived in the street. I went to school in the afternoon; in the mornings I sometimes went with my friends to work in a tannery, to make engravings on leather. I only went home to pick up my books. I still ate at home, but I ducked out as soon as I finished. I really did it to avoid getting into difficulties with my stepmother, to avoid getting beatings. My father didn’t say anything to me about it because, I guess, it was better for him that way.
I liked to work when I was a boy. I must have worked since I was very small because the first job I had my father used to call for me and when I got my money I handed it right over to him. I remember how good I felt when my father hugged me, and said, “Now I have someone to help me.” I was a shoemaker’s assistant in a workshop a few blocks from our house. I used to work until late at night; there were times when we worked all night long. I don’t think I was over nine years old then.
My second job was making belts, then I sold lottery tickets in the street, and for a while I worked with Elena’s younger brother, as an assistant to my grandmother’s cousin’s son, who was a mason. While I was still in school I was night watchman in a bakery shop. My uncle Alfredo worked there and he taught me how to make biscuits. As I look back, almost my entire life has been spent working—even thoughthe work wasn’t very productive—so why do they say I am a lazy bastard and a son-of-a-this or that?
At the end of the school year they handed me my flunk notice. Professor Everardo was very fond of me but he failed me anyway. It hurt me on account of my father, and I thought my teacher had been unfair. After that, I lost interest in my studies. I was stupid when it came to grammar, to conjugating verbs, and only average in arithmetic, but I was outstanding in world history and geography. These studies fascinated me.
When it came to sports, to physical strength, I was first in my class. I have always been a good runner and in the sixth grade I came in first in the 100 and 200 meter races. I also liked anything that had to do with motors and once in a while I dreamed of becoming a mechanical engineer, of having a career. But I’ve left all that behind.
We still lived on Cuba Street, near my grandmother. She kept coming to visit, bringing us little cakes and sweets or clothing, and asking how our stepmother was treating us. Once I ran to her house because my father had hit me. I wanted to live with her, but that night my
papá
came and made me go home.
I have a poor memory for dates, but I remember the day we moved to the Casa Grande because it was my father’s Saint’s Day and it was the day my grandmother died. When my uncle sent word of her death my father had said, “What a nice little present for me!”
The day before, she had sent for us and I was impressed because she knew she was dying; she died with all her five senses intact and she had a word for everyone. To me she said, “Kneel down, child, I’m going to sleep. Now take good care of your brother and sisters. Behave well in life so that life treats you well. Son, don’t be wicked, otherwise your mother’s spirit and mine won’t rest in peace.” She asked us always to pray an Our Father in her name because it would be like food to her. Then she blessed us. There was a knot in my throat but by that time I felt like a man and tried hard not to cry. My uncle José was drunk as usual and was dancing outside her room.
My aunt Guadalupe and my uncles washed and dressed my grandma for the funeral. They put a clean sheet on the bed that day and laid her out while they went to buy the coffin. The four of them lifted her into the coffin and put under it a tray of vinegar and onion to absorb the
cáncer
that leaves the body of a dead person. There were two candles at her head and two at her feet, when we arrived for thewake. All night people sat around
I used to go out with my friends all the time. I practically lived in the street. I went to school in the afternoon; in the mornings I sometimes went with my friends to work in a tannery, to make engravings on leather. I only went home to pick up my books. I still ate at home, but I ducked out as soon as I finished. I really did it to avoid getting into difficulties with my stepmother, to avoid getting beatings. My father didn’t say anything to me about it because, I guess, it was better for him that way.
I liked to work when I was a boy. I must have worked since I was very small because the first job I had my father used to call for me and when I got my money I handed it right over to him. I remember how good I felt when my father hugged me, and said, “Now I have someone to help me.” I was a shoemaker’s assistant in a workshop a few blocks from our house. I used to work until late at night; there were times when we worked all night long. I don’t think I was over nine years old then.
My second job was making belts, then I sold lottery tickets in the street, and for a while I worked with Elena’s younger brother, as an assistant to my grandmother’s cousin’s son, who was a mason. While I was still in school I was night watchman in a bakery shop. My uncle Alfredo worked there and he taught me how to make biscuits. As I look back, almost my entire life has been spent working—even thoughthe work wasn’t very productive—so why do they say I am a lazy bastard and a son-of-a-this or that?
At the end of the school year they handed me my flunk notice. Professor Everardo was very fond of me but he failed me anyway. It hurt me on account of my father, and I thought my teacher had been unfair. After that, I lost interest in my studies. I was stupid when it came to grammar, to conjugating verbs, and only average in arithmetic, but I was outstanding in world history and geography. These studies fascinated me.
When it came to sports, to physical strength, I was first in my class. I have always been a good runner and in the sixth grade I came in first in the 100 and 200 meter races. I also liked anything that had to do with motors and once in a while I dreamed of becoming a mechanical engineer, of having a career. But I’ve left all that behind.
We still lived on Cuba Street, near my grandmother. She kept coming to visit, bringing us little cakes and sweets or clothing, and asking how our stepmother was treating us. Once I ran to her house because my father had hit me. I wanted to live with her, but that night my
papá
came and made me go home.
I have a poor memory for dates, but I remember the day we moved to the Casa Grande because it was my father’s Saint’s Day and it was the day my grandmother died. When my uncle sent word of her death my father had said, “What a nice little present for me!”
The day before, she had sent for us and I was impressed because she knew she was dying; she died with all her five senses intact and she had a word for everyone. To me she said, “Kneel down, child, I’m going to sleep. Now take good care of your brother and sisters. Behave well in life so that life treats you well. Son, don’t be wicked, otherwise your mother’s spirit and mine won’t rest in peace.” She asked us always to pray an Our Father in her name because it would be like food to her. Then she blessed us. There was a knot in my throat but by that time I felt like a man and tried hard not to cry. My uncle José was drunk as usual and was dancing outside her room.
My aunt Guadalupe and my uncles washed and dressed my grandma for the funeral. They put a clean sheet on the bed that day and laid her out while they went to buy the coffin. The four of them lifted her into the coffin and put under it a tray of vinegar and onion to absorb the
cáncer
that leaves the body of a dead person. There were two candles at her head and two at her feet, when we arrived for thewake. All night people sat around
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