A Muddy Reputation
It was back when I was young enough to think that I knew it all but old enough that I could walk through town by myself. I was a straight up badass. I could read and my heavy accent English was the envy of all the other abuelitas. Mi abuela would always start, “Esta guapo como su abuelo, ojala se lo unico que le saque a ese desgraciado… y sabe ingles… y me lee todos los recados… y es bueno para sumar.” Yup that was me! I would act like I was reaching for the guayabas but in reality I wanted to hear the complements followed by the local chisme of the neighbor’s daughter who was no longer a virgin and ran away with her boyfriend. It was a normal day and my uncle was working as an albañil at the very end of the street. My grandma called me over to take him his daily lunch. I looked at the bucket of fresh made caldo de pollo. It was my favorite. My grandma told me when I got back there would be sopes waiting for me. I like sopes too but that was what I ate every day, sometimes three times a day. It was cheap and easy to make. I was tired of masa cheese and frijoles. I did not complain because I had a reputation of being el niño bueno to uphold. The road was long but it was a direct path. I could see the building my uncle was working on but the people were only moving shapes. I walked by showing off what great manners I have say buenas tardes to all the elders and even stopping to help them move things for them. I was about halfway to my destination when it happened. My stomach began to punch me from the inside out. I was hungry. I took a peek at the caldo. The smell intrigued me. There were two giant drumsticks. My mouth began to water. I looked around me and went behind un árbol de tamarindo. I looked at the caldo again and stuck my hand in and took the drumstick. It was so good. My stomach begged me for more so I took the other one. The ecstasy in my mouth was immediately followed by a moment of panic. I ate my uncles food all that was left was a papa and the liquid part of the caldo. I threw the bones to the dogs so they could get rid of the evidence and I continued my journey. I was almost there when I came out with a brilliant idea. I grabbed dirt and rubbed on my shirt and I began to cry. It was easy to cry because I was afraid that I was going to be caught. When my uncle saw me his face turned into immediate concern. He asked me what happened after he saw the shirt. I was now sure my plan would work. I explained to him my new made up version of what happened. I was walking over like I had done before but Dona Amparos’ dog smelled the food and chased me I fell and dropped the bucket. I managed to save everything but the meat. He looked at the bucket. He asked me if I had dropped the whole bucket. I replied that I had and then without thinking any further I told him the dogs ate the meat. I dropped the bucket and everything fell out. I only manage to scoop the liquid back into the bucket and the papa. He said he was sorry that had happened to me and thanked me for taking the food to him. I was instructed to go back home. I could not believe it. I was so smart I got away with eating my uncles food. I went back and forced myself to eat the sopes so that there would be no suspicions. The evening my uncle came home and told my grandma what had happened. I was called over for questioning. My uncle had been laughing when he told the story. I thought not only had I gotten away with good food, I provided the family for entertainment for the next week. I wish I would have been wrong. My grandma asked me what had happened and I stuck to my story, this time stating there were two dogs. My grandma began to tell my uncle that I was so brave. She said, “Aver mijo traime una cubeta de agua.” I did as I was told as I approached her though I felt her walking stick strike my leg and I dropped the bucket. I was so shocked I did not even cry. “Aver mijo, salva el agua.” I went down to save the water and try to scoop it up but all I got was mud. In my story I had said that I dropped the bucket and only saved the liquid part of the food. I realized of my mistake. My grandma hit me again. “No te pego porque te comiste la comida, te pego porque mentiste. Ni con un milagro puedes recoger el agua.” That night I went to sleep knowing that the Smart and handsome boy reputation had vanished. I have never tried to lie to my grandmother again.
