We didn’t have the dictionary, so we spent the afternoon talking mostly in signs. Between the words I knew in Spanish and the words he knew in English we figured out a rhythm. We had really different ways of working though. If something was really heavy I usually got some kind of equipment to lift it. Santos just picked the whole thing up and slung it over his shoulder. He was crazy strong.

We finished the work early the first day. I wasn’t used to having help. It made it a lot easier to get things done. I didn’t want Eli to know we were done early, so we tried to entertain ourselves. I usually just talked with friends, but we couldn’t really say much in each other’s languages.

I found this old rope and told him we could do a tug of war. It turned out to be a really bad idea. He’s annoyingly strong. Made me feel like a twig. I set up a bucket a ways away from where we were standing, and we tried to toss rocks into it. We got pretty good after a few throws. Santos still won, I guess he’s just better at things like that. But we had a lot of fun. Turns out you don’t really need to talk to play a stupid made up game.

We sat in the shade from the shed, and I found some get-to-know-you questions in the back of Santos’ dictionary.

“Cuantos Anos Tienes?” I thought I’d see if we could actually have a conversation.

“Seventeen.” I guess he already knew a lot of the numbers in English. I couldn’t believe we were the same age. I thought he was at least ten years older than me.

“Wow, um…” I didn’t know how to respond in English, let alone in Spanish. He took the dictionary out of my hands.

“How old are you?” He mostly pronounced it right. Probably better than I pronounced anything in Spanish.

I responded, “Seventeen.”

He laughed. I think we were both surprised. He was probably also relieved. I would be if my boss was some 17-year-old kid instead of Eli.


I guess my mom was buying groceries when Santos got there and Eli never told her about him. Me and Santos showered and changed, then we headed to the kitchen for supper and my mom was surprised to see him. “Why, hello! Are you one of Ben’s friends from school?” Moms can tell how old people are a lot better than I can.

I told her his name is Santos and he’s the farm hand Eli hired. “Santos, this is Mrs. Reuben, Mrs. Reuben, this is Santos.” I’d always seen people introduce people like that on TV and I finally got to do it. Made me feel kind of grown up.

“Hello Mrs. Reuben. Nice to met you.” Santos was trying so hard to figure out some English. He seemed pretty comfortable around my mom already. They say some people have a gift for telling what someone’s like just by meeting them once. I definitely don’t have that gift. I really have to get to know someone before if I know if they’re good or bad or whatever. I wonder if Santos had that gift. Knew he could trust my mom. Knew he couldn’t trust Eli.

It must have been so confusing to Santos to hear us talk. We went to a Chinese restaurant once and the people at the table next to us were speaking in some other language. Imagine if that was your life, just not understanding anyone around you.

My mom had taken some Spanish classes in school. She didn’t remember much, but I think she knew enough to help Santos a little. “Hola Santos, mucho gusto.” She pointed at the platter she’d just put on the table. “Carne, Papas, Pan.” She struggled for a moment and pointed at a bowl. “y gravy.”

I tried not to laugh while my mom explained gravy to Santos. You ever tried to explain what gravy is in a foreign language to someone who’s never seen it? What a kind woman.


She hollered at Eli that supper was ready. In he stomped, still apparently upset from earlier. He sat on his chair at the circular table and pointed at the plate my mom set in front of the chair we never used. “The hell is this?”

“I thought Santos could sit there, if it’s okay with you. It’s where guests usually sit.”

She barely finished the sentence before Eli cut her off. “It’s bad enough we’ve got a Mexican living in our house and making us learn Spanish. I won’t have him sitting at my table.”

My mom made a face I’ll never forget. I think it was somewhere between angry, confused, hopeless, and tired. “Where would you like Santos to eat?”

“I wouldn’t. But since you’re feeding him my food anyway, send him to his room.”

My mom put a plate together and walked Santos to his room. She must have seen he didn’t even have a bed. It must have killed her. I wonder what she thought of the whole Santos situation. If Eli even told her he was planning on hiring him. If she got to have any say about a stranger living in the house with her. Or if Eli just did what he usually did and told her to trust him because he was the man of the house.

I don’t ever want to be the man of the house. I couldn’t stand to treat a lady like that. Sometimes I wonder if Eli ever loved my mom. Or if he was just a horny teenager and wanted to get married. My mom said they loved each other, but it was always with kind of a sad sigh. Like when a kid does something stupid and his mom says she loves him but she’s secretly really disappointed.

I have no idea what made my mom want to marry him. Maybe it was one of those cases where they’re young and in love, and then they get married and the man starts to change. I saw something like that in a movie once. I think it was called Not Without my Daughter. I had to sneak over to Jacob’s house to watch it, since Eli said it would put us on a watchlist to have arabs on our TV, but that only made me more curious. The husband in the movie was a great guy until he went back to his country with his family and then he turned horrible and wouldn’t let his wife leave. I bet that’s what it was. My mom was too smart to marry someone who treated her like shit.

When my mom sat back down at the table, we ate in silence. I wanted to say something about her food tasting really good, but I felt too tense. I didn’t want to piss Eli off on accident or something.

I was almost done with my food when Eli slammed his fist on the table. “I will not have some dirty illegal ruin a perfectly nice dinner.” That was the only time I ever heard Eli compliment my mom’s cooking.

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