Alma of My Heart Read online

  Ricardo Vasquez Montoya lived a short and blessed life. If he had lived another nine months he would have been able to meet his beautiful daughter Irena. His bride-to-be was not so lucky. When her parents discovered her pregnancy they were devastated. When they realized it would be a child of a street vendor, they disowned their only daughter and never spoke to her again. They never saw the stunning sea green eyes in their granddaughter’s angelic face when she was christened. With the permission of Ricardo’s father who had a soft spot for his only granddaughter Irena, and the proof of the emerald ring from Ricardo, the town magistrate granted Irena the right to have her father’s family name. And Irena and her mother moved in with Ricardo’s family.

  Irena was the light of her grandfather’s eyes. He paid no attention to all the grandsons that came before her and ignored the three granddaughters that came after. On his deathbed he gave his house to his granddaughter, unheard of in Mexican culture. From the moment he died no one was left to defend Irena and her mother. They became the town pariahs, the center of all jokes, the topic of all gossip. They did not care. They had each other.

  Roberto Quinones Chavez was not one of the many who despised Irena and her mother. His family was so poor, Irena’s mother paid him to help plant their garden and cooked him dinner every night so he would not go hungry. When he became a man he continued to help Irena and her mom with the housework after spending a grueling day digging sewers for the ever-growing population of Tijuana. He worked from dusk until dawn for 500 pesos a month, saving every peseta so he could one day achieve his dream of moving to Los Angeles to become a gardener. His cousin Enrique sent letters to his aunt about his flourishing business and took pictures of the fancy white truck he drove to work each day. One day this would be Roberto’s life but he would have the most beautiful of all women at his side, Irena.

  The morning Irena returned home from Gael’s beach house bruised and bleeding, only to witness her mother die tragically young of a broken heart, Roberto knew his dreams had been permanently shattered. Within a month, Irena’s cousins would come after the house and with the tragedy of her mother’s death and the desolation of the rape, Irena didn’t seem to have the strength to fight off her greedy family. Then the real blow came. Irena was pregnant. The morning she realized that she had missed her period for the second month in a row Irena knew it was time to leave The Hills. Turning to the only friend she had and the 5000 pesos that was both hers and her mother’s life savings, she spent 30% for the driver that would smuggle her and Roberto to Los Angeles, kept 10% for her and Roberto to survive, and hid the remaining 60% for the day her baby would be born. She didn’t tell Roberto she had no intentions of marrying him.

  Everyday before they were to depart Roberto would ask Irena to be his wife. He promised to love her unborn child and he swore to take care of her to his dying day. Irena smiled with each declaration from his lips but deep in her heart she knew she would be the one to take care of Roberto and she could not afford to with a child on the way.

  The day for the journey arrived. Irena climbed into the van without a single look back at The Hills that was her home for her entire life. Around her neck she wore a long, cheap, silver chain that hid her mother’s engagement ring in the depths of her breast so no one would see it and try to steal it. It was the only thing about The Hills she cared about, a symbol of her father’s love for her mother. As she lay face down on the mud stained floor of the beat-up, old van, each bump from the road dug the ring into the flesh of her bosom and brought peace and comfort to Irena’s heart.

  4

  After their honeymoon in Bali, Tatiana threw herself into her new project like she was giving birth to a most precious child. Colby insisted she did not have to work as he could afford to care for her in the lap of luxury, especially if Belly was going to be their only baby. That only made Tatiana more determined to succeed in her project. She didn’t feel valid if she couldn’t bring something to life, even if that something wasn’t a human life.

  Before Colby or Belly even opened their eyes on Monday morning, Tatiana drove down Mount Olympus to Soto Street in Boyle Heights. Although Boyle Heights had hills like Mount Olympus, its streets did not have Bentleys and Jaguars. Soto Street was famous for low riders, gang bangers and drive-bys. Her dear friend Milagro “Millie” Juarez came from Boyle Heights. They were roommates their freshmen year at The University of Southern California and hated each other at first sight. Their disdain for each other was so strong they both requested a change in roommates in less than a month. It would be close to seven years later that they saw each other again; they were in line to pick up their registration badges for a seminar on urban renewal.

  An Amazon, close to a foot taller than Millie, stood in front of her in line. Millie looked left, Millie looked right; but couldn’t see past the mountain in front to find out what was holding up the line.

  “What’s slowing things up? It’s a hundred degrees out here.”

  The Amazon turned and handed Millie a handheld, Bart Simpson, face fan. They didn’t recognize each other immediately. Millie thought the Amazon looked like Tatiana but the Tatiana she knew would have never been considerate enough to share her fan. It wasn’t until they hit the front of the registration line that Millie’s suspicions were confirmed. Their last names, Jones and Juarez, had them sitting right next to each other for a whole week. If it weren’t for those names, some of the best things in life they were both going to experience might never have happened. And in Tatiana’s defense, she would have definitely shared her Bart Simpson face fan with most anyone, just not Millie.

  They reluctantly said hello. They politely passed the sugar for their coffees. They graciously offered each other the last available plate of fish for lunch even though they both hated the alternate choice, overcooked roast beef. They preferred their beef rare. They ended up sharing the fish and found out they had a lot in common. Millie wanted to revitalize her impoverished neighborhood. It was riddled with gangs that were drenched with men that treated their women as second-class citizens. Millie had watched three of her sisters either die or end up at Chowchilla Prison because of these men and she was going to put an end to it.

  Tatiana wanted to restructure beautiful old buildings in diverse neighborhoods and give these buildings a new life. By the end of the seminar, they had a plan. They would form a foundation to purchase structurally sound but abandoned buildings throughout the city, renovate them, and turn them into safe havens for abused women and children, who needed a secure place to live until they could be on their own, free of fear, free of the men who used them, abused them, then tossed them out like dirty dish rags.

  Tatiana and Millie were so entrenched in their foundation, which they called The Survivors Sojourn, Tatiana almost postponed her honeymoon, until Millie convinced her to go. They had decided that each Sojourn location would provide shelter, job training, education, and counseling for the women and children. They both joined The USC Alumni Association and petitioned their wealthy colleagues to contribute to the foundation. Millie went to the local Council Members and Planning Commissioners in her neighborhood to find deserted buildings while Tatiana solicited Colby’s wealthy associates and business partners for funding.

  Three years later, upon her return from her honeymoon, Tatiana took the wedding gift she requested from her new father-in-law, Colby Winthrop Jr., a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar check. She drove to the Bank of America in Boyle Heights where all five feet of Millie was waiting with a beaming smile filled with excitement.

  “How was the honeymoon?”

  “Great! Are they in there?”

  “They’re ready for us.”

  “Everything pass inspection?”

  Millie looked at Tatiana and couldn’t help but laugh. She couldn’t believe how much she hated this spoiled, vacuous woman when they first met. Now, she couldn’t believe how much she adored this woman for her passion and business acumen. “Tatiana, it’s going to be fine.”

  They walked into the bank with a dream and walked out of the bank property owners of a thirty-six unit abandoned loft complex on Cesar Chavez Drive, east of Alameda. The windows were blown out; the roof was leaking; they were spitting distance from the Los Angeles County Prison for Men. And they were both crying with delight.

  Monday would turn out to be the first day of the rest of Tatiana’s life. She did not know that this day would change the whole course of her path. She did not realize the person who would become the most important person in her world would show up at The Sojourn. All Tatiana knew was that something very special would begin today. She just knew it.

  5

  It took Irena and Roberto forty-six days to reach Los Angeles. It only took forty-three minutes to cross the Mexican border to the United States. It took thirty-two days to pay off the slumlord at the motel in San Ysidro where Irena cooked day and night for nothing and Roberto cleaned dishes. They actually never paid off the owner as Roberto was caught stealing tips and they both had to run for their freedom before the polleros that smuggled them over tossed them back across the wrong side of the border.

  They couldn’t even go back to the motel to retrieve their belongings. Fortunately, Irena kept her ring around her neck and her money tucked in her bra. She never went anywhere without them, even to take a shower. Roberto was not so smart. All he had was the twelve dollars in tips he stole off the tables. Irena had the 60% she was saving for the day the baby came. It amounted to about two hundred American dollars. She thought about using it to buy bus tickets for herself and Roberto to Los Angeles. But then she’d have to let Roberto know she was hiding the money. And he might also figure out that she wasn’t planning to marry him, especially if she had money. She knew she was being dishonest but her unborn baby was her first concern. So at almost four months pregnant, Irena walked approximately two hundred miles to Los Angeles.

  It took them fourteen days. Each day they would spend a dollar in the morning for a shared breakfast then walk fifteen miles in the sweltering heat until the sun went down. They would go to bed hungry, in the cold, desert night filled with the sounds of howling coyotes. Irena thought this was stupid and tried to talk Roberto into walking at night and sleeping during the day. But Roberto could not sleep when the sun was up. On the thirteenth day, they had no money left for food. Irena had enough. She sat hidden behind the shadow of a bolder off the 5 Interstate and refused to move until the sun set. At exactly ten to midnight, tired of walking and starving from lack of nutrition, she stepped out on to the Interstate and did what she saw Lucy Ewing from the tv series Dallas do on a movie where she wasn’t playing Lucy Ewing; she stuck out her thumb and a big eighteen wheeler truck pulled over with a loud toot of his horn and a screech.

  Roberto ran into the bushes. Irena did not care if he came or not. She did not care that they needed to stay with Roberto’s cousins when they reached Los Angeles. She did not care that Mexican people would shake their heads at a pregnant woman with no husband or family. She did not care that the man in the truck took one look at her and licked his lips. She jumped into the cab of the truck and held the door open for Roberto and glared towards the bushes.

  “No, Irena, esta pelligro!”

  “We’re in The United States, Roberto. Speak English.”

  Roberto stared in shock at what sounded like perfect English to him. In reality, she had a strong accent but not so strong that the truck driver couldn’t understand her.

  “There’s only room for one, sweetheart.”

  Irena scooted herself as close to the driver as she could get without vomiting at the thought of actually touching him.

  “There’s room for my brother if you want me.”

  The truck driver drooled at her proximity and luscious breasts as Roberto, petrified, climbed up into the truck and quietly closed the door.

  At 1:22 in the middle of the night, Irena gave the truck driver, who turned out to be quite decent, a peck on the cheek as she jumped out of the cab of his truck, off the Avenue 52 exit of the 110 Freeway near the Paseo de Figueroa. The driver had given her and Roberto his leftover bag of MacDonald’s french fries and a scrap of paper with his number on it, if she ever wanted or needed to call. He also gave her a handful of change so they could make a phone call to Roberto’s cousin.

  Irena collapsed into the cot that Roberto’s cousin’s wife, Marthe, set up for them. Roberto tried to crawl in the cot with her after Marthe switched off the light but she shoved him off and he spent the night on the carpeted, hard floor. Irena didn’t care if she was being mean. She didn’t care if she was being selfish. She didn’t care about anything except one thought: today would be the first day of the rest of her life and she wasn’t planning to share it with Roberto. She already had the person she would spend her life with and that person was sleeping snug in her belly.

  6

  August 8, 1998 was a very special day. In ancient Chinese culture, the number eight was an extremely fortunate number; it phonetically matched the sound of the word for “strike it rich”. Chinese people from across the universe would pay mounds of money to have an address or a phone number that incorporated multiple eights.

  At exactly 8:00 am on this exceptional day, The Sojourn opened its doors to anyone who wanted to step through it. Tatiana and Millie had spread the word from every level they could, starting with grassroots by going church to church in the neighborhood, to bus bench adds, then pamphlets in every high school and junior high from Boyle Heights to Echo Park.

  People came from as far as North Long Beach to check out the opening. Unfortunately, they came for the free food and drinks; and to comment on the unusual architecture of The Sojourn. Tatiana had turned it into a replica of a Salvador Dali painting, complete with a melting clock coming off the side of the south-facing wall. It was meant to be symbolic of the journey to freedom, erasing the past and embracing a future that was yet to be defined. The meaning was lost on most who arrived; from gang bangers to harass them to USC Alumni to doubt them.

  Tatiana and Millie didn’t bat an eye. They knew The Sojourn was important. They knew it would change the neighborhood. They knew to be patient. At nine pm, just when Tatiana was about to head home, exhausted from the day’s lack of events; a seventeen-year-old girl walked through the front door. She was six months pregnant and black and blue from her puffy eye to her bruised thighs. She couldn’t even pronounce her name due to the swelling of her lips.

  The resident nurse gave the girl a room on the top floor where a security guard, who was a retired police officer, sat vigil all night. By the end of the week, young girls and women who had been beaten, tortured, raped and tossed out like garbage; occupied thirty of the thirty-six units. By the end of the month, Tatiana and Millie had to start searching for another abandoned building to open the next Sojourn.

  As depressing as the reason was for its existence, The Sojourn was a success; funded by tax write-offs from the rich and making a difference for the poor. By all accounts, Tatiana should have been thrilled with her achievement. Yet something felt empty inside of her; a feeling like an avocado without a pit as a fork was used to scrape the inside flesh from its tough outer skin.

  Tatiana’s thirtieth birthday was approaching and she knew Colby had some big surprise party planned. Everyone whispered around her, pretending to know nothing, yet all furtively in on the secret. In truth, there was nothing surreptitious going on. Tatiana just hated surprise parties, especially on her thirtieth birthday. She wished she could just take a long walk with Belly and skip the party entirely.

  At 6:00 pm on the evening of her birthday, dressed in a white, eyelet sundress as the Indian Summer evenings were viciously warm in Los Angeles; Tatiana took her usual one hour walk with Belly up and down the hills of Mount Olympus. She pretended not to notice as her friends ducked their heads when they drove past her to arrive at her house for the surprise party. She walked longer than usual, all the way down to the community entrance gate near Laurel Canyon Boulevard. At the bottom of the hill, Belly sat down and refused to move. The overly plump cocker spaniel was done walking.

  Tatiana didn’t know what to do. Belly was too heavy for her to carry. There were no cabs that came near the area, the residents were too rich for taxis and only hired limousines. It was too dangerous to walk along Laurel Canyon to Sunset where she could find a cab. Her friends continued to drive past her, up the hill, and they pretended not to see her, in fear of blowing the surprise, as she waved for them to stop. She looked at Belly and started to laugh. “We’re gonna be in so much trouble if I don’t show up for my own birthday party.”

  An hour later, as Tatiana and Belly lay on a patch of grass, Colby came driving down the hill in his BMW. Belly started to bark in excitement, smart enough to realize that she didn’t have to make the climb back up to the top of Mount Olympus.

  “What are you doing down here?” Colby looked more worried than annoyed as Tatiana and Belly jumped into his car.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the surprise.”

  “You knew?”

  “When fifty of your friends, who don’t live in the neighborhood, drive past you and pretend not to see you, it either means I’ve committed some awful crime or you’re throwing me a surprise party.”

  Colby shook his head in irritation at himself.

  “Not the smartest plan.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  As they arrived at the party, half the guests were already drunk. Everyone was having a fabulous time. And on the surface, like the lustrous, deep green skin of a Reed avocado, Tatiana was smoothly smiling. But with each wish for a happy new year in her life, that fork scraped away the inner flesh of her gut and emptied her out until there was nothing left.