• Пожаловаться

Andrew Valencia: Lord of California

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Andrew Valencia: Lord of California» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. Город: New York, год выпуска: 2018, ISBN: 978-1-63246-060-8, издательство: Ig Publishing, категория: Социально-психологическая фантастика / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Andrew Valencia Lord of California

Lord of California: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Lord of California»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

“A remarkable debut. Valencia writes with a sinuous maturity, a boldness of vision far beyond his years. In Lord of California, this beyond-seeing is literal: wild, impressive, at times menacing invention about what a separatist California might look like begins to look downright prescient, and Valencia’s portraitist skill with his characters lifts them off the page, too.”

Andrew Valencia: другие книги автора


Кто написал Lord of California? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Lord of California — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Lord of California», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Did that make you feel better?

He didn’t answer. I took a few cautious steps forward until I was standing over him. His soft, defeated style of wailing reminded me more of Mama than of Gracie. I tried stroking his back like I did for her, but he pulled away.

Listen, I said. Moving’s going to tough on all of us. I’m not wild about changing schools myself. But everything will be okay.

He wiped his nose on his arm. It’s not that, he said. I can’t help it. I’ve been going back and forth like this for a while now.

How come?

What do you mean? Anthony looked up at me with his eyebrows wedged in confusion. Our father’s dead, he said. And he was a liar and a cheat.

Oh. That.

He stood and shook the sand from his pant legs. Fuck is wrong with you? You’re younger than me, and a girl. My kid sister. You’re supposed to cry and I’m supposed to say everything will be okay.

I don’t know what to tell you.

You know what the saddest part is? When he was alive, he hardly ever gave me the time of day, but now that he’s dead it’s like I’m the only one who cares. I’m the only one who’s broken up about it.

That’s not true. You should have been in our house when Katie first got word to us that he was gone. Me, my sisters, and Mama, all crying at the same time. The pickers could hear us way out in the orchard.

I guess I’m just soft, then.

With the dusk light fading to darkness, I nodded toward the house and started walking in that direction. Anthony followed behind me and sped up until we were side by side. It was the first time a boy had ever walked me home at sunset. All sorts of new circuits were firing up for me that summer, and I had to remind myself that he was my brother.

You’re not soft, I said. And you’re not the only one who’s sad about Daddy. It’s just hard when you know he was lying to us and our mothers the whole time. Almost like it cancels out every nice thing he ever did.

In the near-dark, Anthony’s shuffling footfalls seemed to grow louder. He never did that many nice things for me, he said. And after meeting his other wives, I think I get why.

Why’s that?

Think about it. My mom is the only Mexican woman in the bunch. Why would he spend time with us when he had four white families to choose from?

Dawn isn’t white. She’s part Asian at least.

Okay, fine. But notice he never bothered to get her pregnant.

I don’t think Daddy was a racist. He may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t that. Why would he marry your mama if he was?

Anthony snorted up a loogie and hocked it into the brush where it was too dark to see it land. He was after farms, he said. If you want to farm in California, Mexicans are the way to go.

We kept walking at the same pace even as the trail in front of us fell out of clear view. Mama was bound to be mad at me for going off so far without permission. I knew it from the moment I stepped out from Katie’s porch. In the summertime, the hour or so before total dark was my favorite time of day. The heat dropped off and all the valley around us sparkled with little red and yellow lights from the neighboring farms. It was the same on Katie’s land as on ours. Same rich smell of wood smoke, same warm air on the skin. Having Anthony there got me to wondering about how different life was bound to be on the co-op, and how much harder it would be to find solitude with eleven siblings running around instead of two. Just thinking on it had me feeling claustrophobic, but I decided all the same to give my new family the benefit of the doubt. Katie was right again. Sometimes being a sister is as easy as recognizing that someone else has the same pain as you.

Look, I said. If it makes you feel any better, you should know that Daddy wasn’t much for giving me and my sisters the time of day either. In thirteen years, I don’t think I ever saw him more than once every six months.

Anthony perked up. So you’re saying he didn’t single out me and my brothers?

I’m saying if he hated you all for being Mexicans, he hated us just as much for being girls.

Thanks. And I’m sorry for what I said. The Catholic stuff, the he-she stuff, and everything else. It’s been a hard couple of months. But it’s no excuse for being rude to you.

Thanks. I appreciate that.

Can we start fresh, then? As brother and sister, I mean.

Yeah. We can start fresh.

Good. I’m glad. And you’re right. The months ahead are bound to be tough on everybody. How do we even begin? How do we begin to build a home out of so many broken pieces?

I don’t know. But we’ll try our best.

We came up from behind the house in the pitch black and ascended the steps to the porch. Dawn and Jennifer’s cars were gone, but Mama was sitting in a folding chair by the door with Gracie asleep on her lap. She didn’t scold me for making her wait, or even cast me an angry look. Instead there was a tired sadness in her eyes that made me feel guiltier than I’d expected to. I put my arm around her shoulder and she wrapped hers around my waist. Anthony tipped his head to us and went inside.

You’re not a little girl anymore, Mama said. She sounded dazed and dehydrated.

I haven’t been one for a while now.

I know. I’m sorry. It’s my fault for being useless so much of the time.

It’s all right. It made me strong. I’m just starting to realize that.

Mama smiled and pressed her cheek to my stomach. Across the road and through the trees, bonfire lights flickered dimly from deep inside the orchards. Strange music in the distance, drunken revelry of the day laborers. And nothing for us to do but sit and wait, and hope that somewhere in that darkness was a place we could call our own.

We stopped going to church after Daddy died. I don’t think Mama ever liked going, but Daddy made a point every time he visited to make sure we were in regular attendance. He said a farmer ought to be involved in a local church, that other farmers would take notice if his family didn’t keep the Sabbath. And though he never made it himself to any Sunday service, he had Mama give his best to the pastor, and mention a church in Sausalito he supposedly went to when he was out on the road. Of our neighbors on the surrounding parcels, only the Mendeses were Catholic. The rest included fellow Baptists, Methodists, and Southern Baptists, as well as one old Mennonite couple who’d somehow managed to hold on to their place through drought, disbandment, and the rise of the parcel program. In town you heard rumors of secular families, but out in the country you’d be hard-pressed to find a soul at home on a Sunday morning. Or at least that was the case until God fated Daddy’s appendix to burst and freed us from the obligation forever.

I started cooking a big breakfast to cap off the end of the week. It gave Mama the chance to sleep in and made the girls happier than cold cereal. Plus I liked experimenting with different recipes and ideas of my own. Cinnamon pancakes with baked-in nectarine slices proved less tasty than I’d hoped, but bacon waffles were a surprise hit. One Sunday in July a neighbor woman came by with six jars of strawberry preserves from her summer pantry. I remembered her and her husband from church, and even though we were set to move in less than a month, I figured it was smart not to burn too many bridges.

You let your mama know we’re praying for her, sweetheart, and hope she feels better real soon. We miss seeing you all at service.

The next Sunday I tried putting her preserves to good use. I’d seen an old movie on TV where a French cook made these thin pancakes with fruit rolled up in the middle, but my own attempts didn’t turn out half as fancy. No matter how little batter I used in the pan, they were too thick and heavy to roll up properly. They ended up breaking apart and oozing strawberry like bloody road-kill. And the cakes the French dude made were so light and fluffy he could flip one in midair and catch it on the griddle. Made it look easy too.

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Lord of California»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Lord of California» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Отзывы о книге «Lord of California»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Lord of California» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.