Chapter 7 #2
Adrián turned to me. “It’s a conventional farm.” Translation: full of chemicals and awful labor practices. “You know, the kind you want to work at? After law school?” He was trolling me now. He was enjoying this!
“I could arrange a private tour for you,” said Marisol. “So you can be certain it’s the field you want to go into.”
“That would be great.”
“But if you go to law school, when will you have kids?” Marisol asked.
“That’s what I said!” said Teresa.
My face must’ve betrayed my alarm because Adrián jumped in again. “Oh, listen, my favorite song... ‘La Vaca.’ Come on, Dee, let’s dance.” He took me to the dance floor.
“What was all that about?” he asked, as he began the basic merengue steps. I tried to follow.
“Yeah, seriously, I’m not a breeding mare.”
“No,” he laughed. “You telling my mom you’re an exchange student. I thought you were here to organize some sort of justice tours?”
“Truth Trips. To learn about organic and fair trade coffee. I thought that would bring up more questions than necessary.”
“Are you embarrassed by your job?”
“What? No! I’m proud. This just doesn’t seem like the right crowd.”
Adrián looked at me, confused, as he sent me out on a spin. I returned.
“I’m an activist,” I said. “I work to take down the capitalist system.” I looked around me at the majestically jeweled women, hoping he would get it. He did.
“So we’re The Man, huh?” A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Basically.”
“ You’re the North American.”
“I know. It’s ironic.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little judgmental?” he asked. “How do you know people here wouldn’t understand your point of view? Or at least respect it?”
“Fair point. So what do you think of my point of view?”
“I think it’s really naive and first world and privileged.”
“See?!”
“But I respect your right to be naive.”
My face flushed. He held me tighter and put his cheek close to mine. And suddenly I couldn’t tell if I was hot with anger or hot with desire. He spun me around, using his leg as an anchor between my thighs. Okay. That was desire. But I was still annoyed.
“Why do you think I’m naive? What do you have against ethically produced coffee?”
“When you choose to buy a product from someone, you are choosing not to buy a product from someone else. What happens to all the workers picking coffee at conventional farms if you stop buying that coffee? ‘Fair’ trade coffee isn’t a no-cost solution.
Someone gets hurt. In this case, the most vulnerable. ”
“It hurts the rich owners, not the laborers.”
Adrián noticed my furrowed brow. “Hey. We’re at a wedding.
We’re supposed to be drinking and dancing.
Maybe even kissing.” He looked at me with a twinkle.
I tried to frown. “Besides, you’re my girlfriend, if even just for one night, and I want to enjoy it.
Truce?” I nodded. He pulled me in closer.
“You can try to convert me to your radical cause tomorrow.”
* * *
After the wedding, Adrián dropped me off at the gate surrounding my host parents’ fortress. I fished my keys out of my purse and began the elaborate process of entering the citadel. Top lock. Middle lock. Bottom lock. That was just the gate.
By the time I was putting my third key in the front door, Rambo was barking furiously.
I didn’t want my host family to wake up, so I tossed a handful of cake crumbs I’d saved from the wedding and sprinted to the stairs.
I could hear Rambo licking the tiles as I crept toward my bedroom door.
All the lights were off upstairs, so I knew I was safe.
Perhaps they were tired from their big day.
Abuelita and Luis went to Mass, which I gathered was a long affair with a lot of kneeling, which couldn’t have been great for Abuelita’s knees.
Eva went by herself to a Pentecostal service.
I wasn’t sure what that entailed, but I had heard Abuelita dismissively refer to the congregants as panderetas —tambourine-shakers. Abuelita knew how to throw some shade.
I slipped out of my dress and took it to the hamper in my closet.
Before I tossed it in, I caught a scent of Adrián.
Cedar and sweat. Shit, I was in trouble.
I pulled on my pajamas and went to my laptop to write to Matías.
I wanted to see what he thought about me visiting a corporate farm.
He was slightly less intimidating than Suzanne.
TO: Matías Khalil
FROM: Dee Blum
SUBJECT: Espionage?
Hi Matías! I’ve been offered a private tour of a conventional farm. I thought it might be useful if I got photos and interviews with the laborers. We could use them in the promotional materials for the Truth Trip. Showing the enemy to sell the hero—what do you think?
Again, Matías responded immediately:
TO: Dee Blum
FROM: Matías Khalil
SUBJECT: Re: Espionage?
Look at you, already hustling up opportunities.
Going to a conventional farm would be great.
I have to warn you; it will be difficult to witness the true working conditions.
Management will only show you what they want you to see.
But if anyone can do it, it’s you. I know all about your sleuthing skills.
We’re honored to be working with such a top-notch gumshoe.
Turns out the fangirl(boy) thing goes both ways.
?Buena suerte!
Fanboy? My intellectual idol was fanboying for me ? Impossible. And gumshoe? Sleuthing skills? The only mystery I’d ever solved is where the Tooth Fairy had put my teeth—in a mason jar under my mom’s bathroom sink. That was a fun surprise for an eight-year-old.
It didn’t make sense; but then again, little made sense right now.
I’d only been here a few days and already my entire previous world felt like a dream.
I had come here to change my life, to become a different person.
Well, my life here was definitely different.
I looked at the bridal bouquet on the desk, an explosion of color and hope.
I wasn’t sure if experience equaled identity, but either way, I was getting closer to a breakthrough. I could feel it.