Salsa Stories Read Online Free PDF

talking with my father, as though nothing had happened. But I knew something interesting was going on behind the closed kitchen door. I had to find out what it was, so I excused myself and followed Abuela.
    Abuela Elena was in front of the pantry sifting through bottles, cans, and boxes. As she was about to remove a pile of table linen, a small paper package from the bakery appeared in the corner of the shelf. It had a tear in it, and alfajor crumbs lay all around it.
    â€œÂ¡Qué mala pata!” exclaimed Elvira with a clap of her hands. “What bad luck!” She proceeded to pick up the torn package.
    â€œWhat happened?” I asked.
    â€œYour brother secretly ate two alfajores and hid the third one for later,” said Abuela Elena, motioning to Elvira to throw away the package and its contents.
    â€œAnd a mouse got to it before he did!” Elvira sighed as she wiped the shelf with a soapy rag. “It’s too late to buy any more this evening.”
    I stood there frozen as I watched Elvira clear away all the crumbs from the precious alfajor and throw them into the garbage. The rage bubbling inside me soon gave way to numb disbelief. Abuela Elena tenderly took my hand and led me back into the dining room. With my well-learned good manners, I forced a smile and sat down to tea again.
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    The next morning at breakfast, I found Oscar’s seat empty. Abuela told me had had been up all night with indigestion. In the early hours of the day he was quite weak. But as time went by he became hungry once again, and that meant he felt much better. That is, until Mamá told him that for the next eighty-nine days, whenever we had guests for tea, I was to have his share of alfajores — as well as mine.

One bright clear morning, right before my eighth birthday, Mami took me to my grandma Rosa’s, just as she did every morning on her way to work.
    â€œApúrate, m’ijo,” said Mami. “Hurry, or I’ll miss my ride!”
    Leaving a trail of red dust behind us, I ran to keep up with her as she pulled me along the narrow streets of our barrio , in the Mexican town of Juárez. Neighbors who trickled out of their houses to start their daily routines greeted us as we passed. But there was no time to stop and talk. Small pearls of sweat rose on Mami’s brow and rolled down her carefully made-up face as we rushed along.
    Today, as always, Mami had put on a freshly ironed dress, curled her light brown hair, and slipped her old plastic sandals onto her feet. She didn’t want to ruin her high heels. So she would put them on just before she reached the Texas border.
    When we finally arrived at Mama Rosa’s, Mamiquickly bent down and offered me her cheek. “ Dame un beso , Roberto, give me a kiss,” she said, smoothing back my hair with her hand. “I get paid today. So when I pick you up we’ll go to the market to buy the piñata I promised you.”
    â€œÂ¡Viva!” I cheered, hugging her tight. I loved the piñatas my friends had on their birthdays, and I had always dreamed of having one of my own. Now, my wish would come true!
    Mama Rosa, who had come out to greet us, smiled at my excitement. “And we’ll make chiles rellenos for your birthday dinner, too,” she added, squeezing my shoulders with her big warm hands.
    â€œSí, chico,” Mami said. “Didn’t I tell you that if you got good grades, you would have a special dinner and a piñata for your birthday? Now, keep up the good work at school, and do what Mama Rosa says.” Then she kissed her mother good-bye and left.
    â€œBe careful at the border!” Mama Rosa called to Mami as she disappeared down the road.
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    Monday through Friday, Mami worked in Juárez’s twin city, El Paso. She would catch a ride in a van with other women who, like her, worked as maids and nannies there. At the American border, she would tell theguard the same story: She was