Sweetest Taboo (13 page)

I fell in love with the house on the first day. Although our house back in California was large and comfortable, it was one of those single-story family homes with bedrooms branching off from a long, straight corridor. This house had two stories, and all the charm of a multi-level home.

“Our first two-story house,” I sighed, looking around in appreciation with Tony at my side. I turned to the stairs and started to climb. “Can you imagine how much we would have loved stairs as kids?”

Tony laughed, following me up. “We would have pushed each other down the stairs and killed ourselves before we reached adulthood! I’m just glad we have larger rooms now.”

“And more privacy,” I agreed. We walked quickly to the end of the hall, where our rooms sat side by side. “And views!” I shouted, running to the window in my room. The vista below me held house upon house, scattered haphazardly through the valley and up over the mountain. Every house was a different shade, with a complementary roof, and trees dotted the land in between. The effect was a startling array of color and nature, and I was beginning to feel some hope about our move back to our motherland.

“If I know you, you’ll spend more time with your nose in a book than looking out that window,” Tony teased. He was closer than I had noticed and I jumped finding him at the doorway of my new room. I would have to watch that, I thought – I wasn’t used to his room being so close to mine, and I’d have to be on the lookout for him sneaking around.

For today, though, we were friends. We were both relatively excited to be back in Chile and to see our extended family once again.

That excitement didn’t last long, though. A couple of days after we moved in, my dad asked to meet with us about school. We sat down at the kitchen table, and he pushed a stack of papers my way.

“The school year is over here,” he told us in Spanish. “And most of the kids will be out of school for several months on summer vacation. That doesn’t mean that you get a six-month summer vacation. The school system in Chile is more rigorous than that in the United States. Based on your transcripts, the public schools will keep you both back at least two years. Tony, you may be kept back three years because the school system here in Chile doesn’t recognize U.S. high school diplomas. So you have a choice. You can both get tutors and spend the next few months studying to pass the equivalency exams in time for the new school year, or we can find a reasonably priced British or American international school that would accept you at your current grade levels.”

My heart dropped and Tony whined beside me. What a harsh blow. I would be the most disadvantaged student in school because I attended U.S. public schools my entire life! Another hurdle was our level of Spanish proficiency. Tony had a major advantage over me because he had gone to school in Chile up until the third grade, so he had actually learned how to read and write Spanish. I was only five years old when we left Chile; the only Spanish reading and writing skills were acquired at my elementary school in California, and from speaking with my parents.

“I’m not interested in earning another high school diploma here,” Tony replied flatly. “I graduated in the United States. I already have a diploma there, and if they don’t accept it here, that’s their problem. I’m not going to bust my butt studying for something I already earned in another country.”

“That’s not an option, Tony,” my dad said matter-of-factly. “If you don’t revalidate your diploma, you won’t get into a Chilean university and you’ll have no future.”

Tony rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Then I won’t go to university here,” he countered. “I’ll just go back to California where they recognize my high school diploma, get a job, and work my way through college there. I’m eighteen. I can legally do what I want.”

My dad jumped up, enraged.

“You think that just because you have a girlfriend there, you can do anything you want?” he shouted at Tony, startling my brother and me. I pulled back, frowning. My dad appeared stoic and angry much of the time, but rarely shouted. “I would like to see you go back to that country and struggle like your mother and I did! You don’t have what it takes to make it, you are still a boy! Go if you want, go try to prove yourself. Go show off to your girlfriend! But your mother and I have worked hard to bring you back to a real home, to give you a proper education. If you leave now, don’t think you’ll be welcomed back!”

***

Weeks passed, and the spring months gave way to bright and sunny summer skies. Tony and I stayed indoors most of the time; the only people we knew were our cousins and their friends, and we didn’t know them very well. It was hard to make friends when we weren’t in school, so we spent time with each other, complaining about our fate.

“So we’re decided, then,” Tony said one day. “We’re not going to do what dad wants. We’re not going to study for those equivalency exams.”

I nodded, frowning at my notebook. I’d been writing a letter to Liz, but nothing had happened during my time in Chile to even write about, so I was struggling. “I agree,” I said quietly. “What’s the point? There’s no way we’ll catch up, and even if we pass the exams, we might get into the classes to find that we can’t pass them.” I paused. We had gone over the scenario again and again, and still hadn’t come up with a plausible solution. “I just hate the fact that we worked so hard in school in the U.S, and all for nothing.”

“I hate the fact that dad expects us to give up so much, just because he and mom want to live here instead of the U.S.,” Tony muttered. He was no longer on speaking terms with my dad, and it made for a somewhat awkward home environment. I was still speaking to my dad, but because it was clear that I was on Tony’s side, my dad would often ignore me when I greeted him throughout the day.

As he had promised to do, Tony wrote to his girlfriend almost every day. She was now in her senior year at Royal Oaks. They talked every week, and I knew that Tony had promised to return to the U.S. and marry her. They had some kind of plan, but he wouldn’t tell me because he thought that I might reveal it to our parents.

I, on the other hand, spent a lot of my time watching CNN on the big screen TV in the living room downstairs. CNN was my only connection to the United States, and I took full advantage of the twenty-four-hour coverage.

Tony got off the phone one day and came downstairs to join me in the living room. He wouldn’t have come in if my dad was there, but it was the middle of the day and I was alone.

“CNN again, eh?” he commented. “Are you thinking of becoming a political consultant or something? International affairs? A war correspondent?”

I shrugged, not in the mood for jokes. “It reminds me of the U.S., and the US feels more like home than this place. The more I watch, the more I remember, and the more I miss it.”

“You don’t like it here,” he said quietly. He didn’t give the phrase a question mark, and I knew that he wasn’t asking. We’d been through this several times, and he already knew the answer.

“I thought I would be happy here,” I admitted for the tenth time. “I thought we would get here and everything would fall into place. I don’t have friends here, though, and I miss my friends at home. I love our house, but dad isn’t speaking to you and barely speaks to me. Mom is stuck in the middle of this stand off between dad and us. No one knows where – or if – we’re going to school next year.” I stopped and thought about the situation for a moment, but still didn’t see a way through. “No, I don’t like it here,” I finished simply. “But what am I supposed to do about it? It’s not like I can just leave.”

Tony nodded, but didn’t say anything. I knew that he had a plan to get home, though I didn’t know the extent of it. If he went, though…

“Tony,” I said quietly, deciding to take a chance. “When you go back, I hope you’ll take me with you.”

He looked at me for a moment, but didn’t answer. His mouth turned up in a grin, though, and I knew that if he could take me with him, he would.

***

On a rainy day in October, after moping in the house for months on end and trying to find something to occupy my mind, I finally gave in. I picked up my writing pad and made my way downstairs to the sofa, pen in hand.

I had written so many letters to Tom in the past, but it had been at least four months since I last put my thoughts and feelings on paper for him. I didn’t feel the freedom or comfort level I once shared with him, and I wasn’t even sure what I would say. But I had bottled up all of my emotions since arriving in Santiago, and I knew that it wasn’t healthy. It was time for me to let the emotions out and either bid my final farewell or beg for forgiveness for shutting him out of my life.

October 18, 1993

Dear Tom
,

You may never read this letter, but if you do, there are many things that I need you to know. I acted like a coward. I’m fully aware of that. You always treated me with respect, and I was incapable of doing the same. I allowed my jealousy to get the best of me, and while you were away I convinced myself that you were my enemy rather than my lover
.

The reason I shut you out of my life so abruptly was because you never called me when you were away on your camping trip. My imagination got away from me, and I thought that it meant that you didn’t really love me. I convinced myself that our relationship had been a game to you, and that you’d experienced a newfound love for your wife
.

I’ve had a few months to think about it now, and I understand that you probably did miss me. I probably shouldn’t have expected you to call me with your wife and kids around. I get that. The truth is, I think I stopped taking your calls because I couldn’t face saying goodbye. At the time, it was the only way I could deal with having to let you go. If I were angry enough, then I wouldn’t miss you. I lost my mind during the last few weeks in California, and somehow I took it out on you
.

My time in Chile has been more difficult than I ever imagined. It feels like my family is breaking apart. My brother doesn’t speak to my dad. My dad keeps me at arm’s length, and my mom is caught in the middle. This move has been hard for everyone, but I’ve been keeping my head up, or at least trying. I’ve been spending too much time sleeping and less time eating. Things are complicated and I don’t really want to talk about them now. I miss being able to turn to you with these things, though. I miss feeling comforted by you
.

There isn’t a day, even with thousands of miles between us, that I don’t think of you. You have no idea how much I wish I could be in your arms right now. I’ve missed your tenderness so much. I dream about you almost every night. I know I’ve caused you a lot of pain, and I hope you can forgive me. If I could take it all back, I would. That’s all I really want to say
.

I don’t know if our paths will ever cross again, but if they don’t, just know that you will always hold a very special place in my heart. I love you
.

Tons of kisses
,

Isabel

Chapter Eleven

I’ll Stand by You

I
had walked the four blocks to the small, brick building that housed the local post office many times to mail letters to friends in California. I sent Liz a letter every week, and received the same number in return, with pictures and cards and even gifts from other friends from Royal Oaks. I knew the post office well, and always looked forward to my trips there, as they brought pieces of home to me. But I never found the courage to send the letter I wrote to Tom. I knew that I couldn’t send it to his home address, since his wife as likely to find it and even read it. That was far too risky. I had sent post cards to the school when I was in Europe, addressed to Mr. Stevens, and he had received them without any problem. I could have mailed the letter to Royal Oaks and taken my chances.

Something stopped me, though, and the letter to Tom sat in my top drawer, sealed, addressed, and stamped. Waiting.

I wrote my other friends obsessively, and looked forward to their replies. These were the only bright spots in my life in Chile. Mentally, I was keeping track of the U.S. school year –at the end of November, midterms would be coming up, so everyone would be studying and preparing right now. After midterms came and went, we would be enjoying the laid-back days leading up to Thanksgiving, and then it was the Christmas holiday.

It was a shock to realize that I had already lost out on the first semester of my junior year in high school. The worst part was that I didn’t know what was going to happen. For all I knew, my dad would refuse to send us to private school and insist on public school instead. If that happened, I might very well end up losing an entire year of school. The move to Chile had taken away the three things I treasured most in life: school, friends, and, of course, Tom.

***

On an unusually dreary November day, I was rudely awakened from a mid-afternoon nap by the incessant ringing of the phone. My brother was spending the weekend at a tennis camp and Amy knew he was there, so it couldn’t be her.

The ringing became louder and louder, and I finally found the strength to get up and drag myself over to the phone in my parents’ bedroom. The bed was made, and the room was in perfect order, as usual. I sat on the firm mattress and picked up the heavy receiver of the antique telephone.

“Hola?” I asked in my American-accented Spanish.

“Hi. Is Isabel home? This is Liz calling.” I heard what she said, but couldn’t understand it. Liz? Since I’d arrived in Chile, none of my friends had called. It was far too expensive to call. We had promised each other that we would only call during emergencies or when we had something important to share. I closed my mouth and cleared the lump from my throat.