Chambers Lane Series Collection: The Complete Series

Excerpt from Chambers Lane Series Collection

It was clear that the small house near the end of Chambers Lane sat on a lazy acre of land filled with various fruit trees. There was the large apricot tree that shaded the entire western face of the house. There was also the scrawny nectarine tree with only a few branches that barely produced two or three nectarines a year, but whose meager fruit was still juicy and delicious. Only one member of the Mendoza family was lucky enough to pick and eat the nectarines before the rest of the family had the opportunity to. Most of the time that was Jose Luis, the older brother, who would greedily eat the nectarines without any regard to anyone else. He was like that in every other way, especially when it came to food. Even his mother would claim that Jose Luis had a tapeworm or two because of the way he gorged food every day. Jose Luis would sneak into the refrigerator every night when everyone was asleep to eat the leftovers or eat the ingredients of the next day's meal. But this spring was different. Jose Luis did not eat the nectarines as he had eagerly anticipated. His younger brother, Daniel, had. Or at least that is what Jose Luis believed because Daniel had sat underneath the apricot tree every day dreamily contemplating something as he gazed towards the garden beyond. Between the garden and the apricot tree lay the nectarine tree and in Jose Luis' young, simple mind that was enough to indict Daniel. Little did Jose Luis know the real reason for Daniel's malaise that entire Spring. But it would not matter because Jose Luis could care less. Only the nectarines mattered to him and they were no more.

This evening, Jose Luis gazed out of his bedroom window. He could see Daniel sitting again under the apricot tree. Earlier that year, Daniel turned twelve. Twelve is a critical year. Daniel knew that next year he would be a teenager and that he would no longer be a child. He would be a man; not the way that other cultures view the transition into manhood and mark the occasion with religious or physical celebrations with family and friends and lots of food and gifts and rituals passed down through the ages. But Daniel would become a man the way that boys inherently view a change not only in their bodies, but also in their minds. The world looks different to a teenager. To a teenager, parents are now anathema. Teachers are still strange, but different in a way that makes life harder at times and hopeful at others. Grandparents are surprisingly cool because they are permissive and let their grandkids get into every sort of trouble so long as it makes them happy.

Daniel was leery of the changes that he would undergo as a teenager. Some of his older friends had changed and they no longer were friends with him. Now that his older friends attended the only middle school across town, they no longer saw Daniel on a daily basis. They made new friends with other students who had graduated from other elementary schools scattered around town. Daniel knew that the changes inside of him were inevitable. However, he wanted to savor his last year of innocence at least that was the way he saw it.

Even though Daniel planned to ensure that his simple life stayed the same, he had become estranged from his mother these past few months, invisible in ways that did not matter to him. At least, he convinced himself that it did not matter. His status as persona non grata gave him the free time to think and contemplate his future more than he usually did. He surprisingly thought of his upcoming independence, when he could make decisions on his own, when the need for adults to be a source of transportation to and from places was no longer required, when the future seemed brighter because every door was opened by thoughtful decisions strategically planned as if playing a board game whose outcome was already predetermined. He did his best thinking underneath the apricot tree. So he sat there every early evening like this evening, until the call for dinner was made and he had to join the rest of the family in a traditional repast. The other siblings would not bother him until then. His strange and often awkward demeanor was enough of a deterrent for his brother, Jose Luis, and his oldest sister, Maria. They stayed inside in their respective bedrooms watching television as usual. His younger sister, Sylvia, was oblivious to Daniel's absences. But Daniel did not mind. He was used to being a stranger in a strange family. He often joked that he was switched at birth at White Memorial Hospital. The other siblings were not amused.

This evening, Daniel had taken his writing book with him. The emerald cover was worn thin and a few pages were torn out after those times when he was displeased with the results. Some pages were dog-eared. But the current page where the pink, silk place marker was opened to was left blank. Not a single word or letter was even written that night. It was more of a silent comfort that distracted him. He was not disappointed with the lack of results. Nothing special had moved him that day. Instead, he had been gazing eerily into the distance past the garden as if nothing was within his field of view. The large, golden sunflowers that grew as tall as six feet did not even distract him. His contemplative attitude was engrossing, but he did not understand why it was so this evening. On occasion, he could hear the soft, but insistent calls of a blue-gray gnatcatcher as it hopped and sidled while foraging for insects and spiders in the garden. The gnatcatcher would lurk in the apricot tree just above Daniel's head awaiting more prey. Even this, Daniel would ignore.

What Daniel could not ignore was the inescapable aroma of the evening's meal that his mother, Lucia Maria Mendoza, was cooking because it would waft outside and engulf his senses. He could smell the faint peppery and nutty tones of the orange-red annatto seeds that were harvested from an achiote tree. His mother stirred the fragrant seeds into the olive oil along with the chopped onions and garlic. He could hear the searing of the salt pork and small pieces of ham. Then she would add the diced cubanelle peppers, carrots, tomatoes, and Spanish olives that formed the foundation of the evening's meal. Having watched his mother cook this Puerto Rican dish many times, Daniel knew that she would soon season the ingredients with adobo and cumin and also include a bay leaf or two so that they would add a slight floral scent as well as a pungent and sharp, bitter taste to the dish. Daniel sensed that his mother was making pollo guisado. He knew that she would also make some white rice in the large, metallic caldero that she cooked in practically every evening. The chicken stew, as it is vernacularly referred to, would be served on top of the rice and consumed quickly by the family. Even Daniel was eager to consume it.

“Dinner's ready,” Lucia yelled so that the kids could hear. She knew that Daniel was typically outside. So this evening, like most evenings in the Spring of 1977, she would yell louder so that Daniel could hear her and she did not have to go outside herself to fetch him or send one of the other children to do so.

This evening, Daniel was reluctant to come inside and deal with any of the family drama. But the grumblings of his stomach were too irresistible, so he relented. He arose from sitting on the grass lawn and walked slowly back to the front porch. As he was about to open the front door, he heard his mother say, “Wipe your feet on the doormat before you come in!! I don't want you tracking dirt inside.”