Before returning to the states, I had hired a personal assistant. Alejandro (yes, the one who trashed my apartment last year) owed me money and I thought that I could deduct what he owed me from his weekly paycheck. It had occurred to me that I was relaying too much on my bi-lingual friends to help me with the construction project so I thought that this made sense. (He does prattle on in a metaphysical, existential kind of way but I’m learning how to tune him out. He is after all, only 21 years old and spent the last six months banging chicks in Cancun and now he has to tag along with a middle-aged gringo.)
Both Alejandro and I thought it might be a good idea to get a Mexican driver’s license. When we asked what it would take I found out that I’d have to take a written test, in Spanish. So Alejandro asked if they had a book that we could study from. Yes, they did. One, only one, which they reluctantly loaned to us so that we could go take copies. (I think I’ll deal with this next year.)
I was driving back from the ranchito with Alejandro and Brian when we passed a restaurant where someone was being taken out on a stretcher and stuffed into an ambulance. “Don’t eat there,” was Brian’s comment.
Alejandro’s job with me was probably the cushiest job he ever worked. It turned out that aside from the occasional translation services at the ranch he mostly helped me shop. Sometimes I’d have him make me breakfast. The day before I left for the states I gave him two weeks’ pay and told him, “Your job for the next two weeks is to find yourself another job.”
After a brief stay in Oakland my cousins and I collected Dad at the San Francisco airport. I explained at the ticket counter that he needed a wheelchair and that he was traveling alone. They gave me a gate pass so that I could meet him. He teared up a bit when I asked him about leaving Eureka. Apparently my nephew had gotten very emotional at his departure and it clearly affected Dad. This is very tough on the family as at 92 years old, there is the prospect that they will never see him again.
That night, at the Mexicana ticket counter, the agent recognized me. “I’ve checked you in before.” I explained that I have traveled back and forth a great deal and that now I was taking my father down to live with me. He looked over my shoulder at my father in his wheelchair and promptly bumped us up to first class.
I returned to the house on Vergel to find that Evita, my dog that I saved from the wilderness, had learned several things while I was away. How to bark, how to howl, and that there is a cat that walks across the wall at one end of the courtyard that she clearly wants to eat. Exhausted from the trip I wanted nothing but to sleep. The dog kept barking and jumping at the wall. To elevate herself she hopped up on the edge of the fountain and was running laps around it when I heard the splash. I beat her to the door just before she dragged her soaking body into the house.
Dad is settling in fairly well. The problem here is that the temperature at night has dropped to freezing and the heat sources in the house are not sufficient to keep him warm. He was spending most of his days in front of a heater. My sister and niece arrived before Christmas. “He has this sore on his butt that you have to dress every day,” my sister explained.
“I’m not doing that,” I said.
“You get used to it.”
“I don’t want to get used to it. I’m not doing that. I’ll hire someone to do that.”
One day Dad said, “I need the bandage on my butt changed.”
“I’ll send my sister right over.” (I ended up doing it.)
Christmas was very casual. Seven month pregnant Karla came over with her husband Mauricio and we had a great traditional gringo dinner. Karla told Dad that he shouldn’t eat too much garlic because it will make him fart. Then she told us about a tonic that her mother made for her using herbs and Karla’s own urine. “She made a tonic for Mauricio too.”
I looked at Mauricio. “Dude, you’re drinking your own pee.”
“It’s good!” he said.
One night my niece Susan was sitting at the computer while I sat in a chair with Evita in my lap. My father was sitting in his chair across from me. Susan asked me if Evita’s vet bills were expensive. I explained that Rodrigo, my vet, wanted to support my effort to save her and I had a hard time getting him to accept any money. Then I said, “And then he became my boyfriend and now it is impossible.” Dad got a big smile on his face.
Marcos called a couple days ago and asked if I’d been out to the ranch. “Not today,” I told him.
“Then you don’t know about the fire?”
“What fire?”
“There is a brush fire out in that area. It has been burning all day. Your house is fine but as we speak, your yard is on fire.”
I rushed out to the property with my sister and niece. Sure enough, one entire side of the property and around the back had burned. But just the grass, all the trees were fine. However, there were still hot spots, a couple of fence posts were on fire and a grass fire was spreading up towards the back of the house dangerously close to a pile of lumber. My sister and I spent the next several hours dragging a hose around the property while my niece stood on a dirt pile and watched a fiesta and horse race at the neighboring horse ranch.
Dad has bronchitis right now and it has me a little worried. The doctor has been here twice and she says that he is improving. His breathing is extremely labored but she says that it is to be expected. We moved him up to the casita where it is warmer and he is much more comfortable. He can’t leave, however, as he can’t handle the stairs down. I feel a little like I’ve locked him in a tower like poor Ruppenzel and he doesn’t have any hair to let down.
Last night Rodrigo and I got back to the house after dinner and we went up to check on Dad. Despite the fact that it was 1:00 in the morning I could tell that he was awake. I went in and sat on the edge of the bed. Rodrigo stood in the doorway. Dad seemed a little disoriented and was explaining something about forgetting his mantra. “But I found my book and now I remember it.” Then he looked over at Rodrigo. “Thank you for taking care of my son,” he said. (I almost cried. What changes our lives have taken.)
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