Read Online The Five Acts of Diego Leon by Alex Espinoza - Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Espinoza
Ads: Link
Your grandmother. Lock your bedroom door at night.”
“I will,” Diego told him.
“I’ll see you at school,” he said. “Try to survive until then.”
“We’ll start your lessons soon,” Carolina said. “I have a great feeling about you, Diego.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, señora.”
“Carolina,” she said, crouching down, looking at him directly in the eyes. She smelled of lavender. Her hair caught the sunlight. She was beautiful. Then she kissed him on the forehead and was gone. Diego couldn’t wait to start his lessons.
He had never seen so many children gathered together in one place. They carried satchels filled with books and colored pencils. They scribbled on the concrete with thick pieces of chalk that dusted their fingers. They played on wooden seesaws and pushed one another on swings. Diego’s stomach turned and his hands trembled as he watched them through the slats of the iron fence circling the school grounds. He was obligated to wear a uniform—black trousers and shoes, a shirt and bow tie, and a sweater with the school’s crest on the front—and he tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously.
“Don’t be afraid,” his grandmother told Diego, bending down to adjust his bow tie. He was taken aback by the tone of her voice,by her gesture; she was almost genuine, almost affectionate. She led him through the gate to his teacher, a pudgy lady with a nest of curly brown hair. She smiled at the teacher, and Diego realized that it was the first time he had ever seen her do so.
“After your classes end, you’ll go with Javier to his house. Carolina will start you on your lessons today,” she said. Then she turned around and waved.
His teacher gave Diego a strange look when he instead looked to her.
“It’s fine,” the teacher told him.
He waved good-bye.
He followed the teacher across the school courtyard, which all the classrooms faced. She led him down a tiled hallway, up a flight of steps, pointing with a bony finger to a playroom full of wooden blocks, the floor scattered with puzzle pieces, balls, and felt puppets. There was a library with many books, and a salon with tables and chairs where they ate and assembled. There was more of everything here—more teachers, more rooms, more children. It overwhelmed him. Diego was glad then when at last they walked into the classroom where Javier sat in a circle with a group of other boys. Behind them there was a map of Mexico and large charts with numbers and letters.
“You’re still alive,” Javier said, jokingly, as Diego sat beside him.
“Yes,” Diego said.
“My mother told me you’ll be coming to our house today after school. I’ll show you a new train set my father brought me from Mexico City.”
“My son doesn’t take after me in this regard,” Carolina said to him that afternoon as they sat on the plush sofa in her sitting room. The window curtains were pulled back, and the afternoon sunlight streamed in through the glass, falling on the floor in long, bright beams across the study. There was a piano, a small easel holding sheets of music, and a gramophone in one corner of the room. The top of the piano was crammed with pictures of Carolina in elegant costumes and dresses as well as a strange wooden device with a pendulum.When she saw Diego looking at it, she asked him if he knew what it was.
“No,” he said, approaching the piano.
“It’s a metronome.” She adjusted a small metal weight at the base of the pendulum before moving it from side to side with her finger. It produced a series of small clicks. Carolina clapped her hands, faster, then slower, keeping beat with the clicks. “This helps us keep a rhythm when we’re composing music. Together. With me,” she urged him.
Diego did so, and they clapped along, their beats in steady synchronization with the metronome.
“Very good,” she told him, smiling. She wore a sweater draped over her shoulders, its arms hanging loose on her sides.
“I will,” Diego told him.
“I’ll see you at school,” he said. “Try to survive until then.”
“We’ll start your lessons soon,” Carolina said. “I have a great feeling about you, Diego.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, señora.”
“Carolina,” she said, crouching down, looking at him directly in the eyes. She smelled of lavender. Her hair caught the sunlight. She was beautiful. Then she kissed him on the forehead and was gone. Diego couldn’t wait to start his lessons.
He had never seen so many children gathered together in one place. They carried satchels filled with books and colored pencils. They scribbled on the concrete with thick pieces of chalk that dusted their fingers. They played on wooden seesaws and pushed one another on swings. Diego’s stomach turned and his hands trembled as he watched them through the slats of the iron fence circling the school grounds. He was obligated to wear a uniform—black trousers and shoes, a shirt and bow tie, and a sweater with the school’s crest on the front—and he tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously.
“Don’t be afraid,” his grandmother told Diego, bending down to adjust his bow tie. He was taken aback by the tone of her voice,by her gesture; she was almost genuine, almost affectionate. She led him through the gate to his teacher, a pudgy lady with a nest of curly brown hair. She smiled at the teacher, and Diego realized that it was the first time he had ever seen her do so.
“After your classes end, you’ll go with Javier to his house. Carolina will start you on your lessons today,” she said. Then she turned around and waved.
His teacher gave Diego a strange look when he instead looked to her.
“It’s fine,” the teacher told him.
He waved good-bye.
He followed the teacher across the school courtyard, which all the classrooms faced. She led him down a tiled hallway, up a flight of steps, pointing with a bony finger to a playroom full of wooden blocks, the floor scattered with puzzle pieces, balls, and felt puppets. There was a library with many books, and a salon with tables and chairs where they ate and assembled. There was more of everything here—more teachers, more rooms, more children. It overwhelmed him. Diego was glad then when at last they walked into the classroom where Javier sat in a circle with a group of other boys. Behind them there was a map of Mexico and large charts with numbers and letters.
“You’re still alive,” Javier said, jokingly, as Diego sat beside him.
“Yes,” Diego said.
“My mother told me you’ll be coming to our house today after school. I’ll show you a new train set my father brought me from Mexico City.”
“My son doesn’t take after me in this regard,” Carolina said to him that afternoon as they sat on the plush sofa in her sitting room. The window curtains were pulled back, and the afternoon sunlight streamed in through the glass, falling on the floor in long, bright beams across the study. There was a piano, a small easel holding sheets of music, and a gramophone in one corner of the room. The top of the piano was crammed with pictures of Carolina in elegant costumes and dresses as well as a strange wooden device with a pendulum.When she saw Diego looking at it, she asked him if he knew what it was.
“No,” he said, approaching the piano.
“It’s a metronome.” She adjusted a small metal weight at the base of the pendulum before moving it from side to side with her finger. It produced a series of small clicks. Carolina clapped her hands, faster, then slower, keeping beat with the clicks. “This helps us keep a rhythm when we’re composing music. Together. With me,” she urged him.
Diego did so, and they clapped along, their beats in steady synchronization with the metronome.
“Very good,” she told him, smiling. She wore a sweater draped over her shoulders, its arms hanging loose on her sides.
Similar Books
