Page 7 of Sombra
“I’m not a boy.”
“No. But you have much tolearn. I learned that there is value in honoring tradition.”
“I do honor it. But I want to get out of here.” I pinch my lips together. “Don’t you remember what it was like? You have all this American music. Didn’t you want to go there?”
“No. I just liked the music.” He grasps my shoulder firmly. “I talked with your mother and Señor Molinero. His daughter wants you to marry her. Shehas always been enamored by you. We have discussed this since you were young. He wants you to make his daughter happy.”
I’m nauseous. I have no one, no one on my side. I ask quietly, “Abuelo, do you think that’s fair?”
“Life isn’t always fair, my Tavo. When Franco was in power, we did not have the freedom to choose for ourselves. But life was better.”
“No. It’s better now.We have all this opportunity, and we can make ourselves whatever we want to be.”
“The simple fact remains that if we don’t do something, the property will go out of the family after six generations. And that cannot be.”
The wind is knocked out of me. Because although my mother said it before, it hadn’t hit me until now.
I’ve been served with a life sentence. The fate of myfamily is on my shoulders. And I’m not free to do anything different. All I can say is, “I know, abuelo. I know.”
And I don’t say any more. Wishing things were different is a fool’s desire. Because no matter how hard I wish, I’m never going to be able to escape my obligations.
After talking with my grandfather, I shuffle back to my casita. I pull out my guitar and sit on the stoop.
My fingers aren’t only rough from working the huerta. I have callouses from playing the guitar as well. I begin strumming with my pick, playing the complicated Spanish guitar I learned from my father.
I sing as the stars come out and the lights extinguish in the main house. Once I’ve sung out my lament, I go inside and crawl into bed alone.
But I don’t sleep for a long time.
