The Founders' Plot

“If this Senator Stern gets a new law,” Julio said, “it might not be as drastic as the one we have now.”

“Getting a new law will not be so easy,” Marisol said. She often studied her children’s books or read history and civics books from the library. “Her party is the minority, and the governor will veto the bill. I don’t want to be pessimistic, but it will be difficult to override the veto.”

“But we have Mexicans in congress,” Carlos said and dipped his spoon into the soup. “We have people with influence. And we have many voters.”

“That didn’t matter in the last election,” Julio said and swallowed a spoonful of soup. “Oh,” he said, closing his eyes and turning his head upward, “delicioso, Marisol. As always.”

She nodded and smiled.

“Perhaps the demonstration next month will make a difference. There will be thousands.”

“Oh, it will make a difference all right,” Carlos said, sarcastically. This was one of the few things he and Julio disagreed on and, therefore, rarely discussed. “It will make the Americans angrier with us than they already are. Fools! Idiots! Out there waving Mexican flags! Do you know what that did to public opinion?”

“There were very few Mexican flags at the last rally. Mostly American flags. And there were so many of us.”

“Yes, but the Mexican flags were there before. Do you think the Americans have forgotten, that they’ll be fooled by this phony display of their flag?” He paused as he took another spoon of soup. “No, mi amigo. They will not. They’ll see right through it. These demonstrations don’t help us. They hurt us.

“And this one will hurt us the most because it’s coming so soon after the riots. That’s still in the minds of the people in this city and probably across the country. Tenga cuidado. Be careful out there. You’ve had hecklers in the past, but I bet there will be more this time. And they will be a lot more unfriendly than before.”

Carlos didn’t want to take this any further but couldn’t stop himself. He raised his hands and rolled his eyes upward. “And then you have those crazy Reconquistas. They want to take back the territory lost to the Americans in the Mexican American War. Lunatics!”

He stopped and looked at Carmella and Julio. “I’m sorry. I know Roberto is one of them. But how do they expect to do that? Guerilla warfare? Do they really think they can get away with that? And as more Americans learn what they want, you’ll see a backlash that’ll make the governor’s law look like charity.”

Carlos knew that Carmella and Julio investigated the Reconquistas when their son Roberto was recruited in high school. They didn’t like it but couldn’t prevent him from staying in the movement. Even their daughter Erika tried to reason with her brother, to no avail. He was too ardent, and rather than continually bickering with him, they finally accepted it.

“They’re not beyond guerilla war if it comes to that,” Carmella said. “But what they mainly want is to operate politically, to dominate state governments with their followers, take governorships and state legislatures. Then they’d declare the states independent and have Mexico recognize them.”

Carlos closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “How can anyone believe something like that? Do they honestly think the Americans would tolerate it?”

Carmella clenched her teeth and glanced down. “They’re true believers. Some of them are ready to die for the cause. It’s an impassioned movement. Very emotional.”

Carlos grimaced. “Ready to die? Well, if they push things too far, some just might. Better they keep quiet. This kind of attitude will only make things worse for us.”

Marisol put her hands on the table. “I think Carlos is right. And I can’t blame the Americans for the way they feel. We come to their country, and we act as if we deserve everything they do as citizens. How do you think Mexicans would react if the situation was reversed?”

Carmella sat upright. “But, Marisol, we had no choice. How can you say that? We came here for a better life. To give our children better lives. What’s wrong with that? It was the same with you and Carlos.”

Julio dipped his spoon into his bowl. “Everyone in this country came from someplace else. They were welcomed. Why not us?”

“Because they came legally,” Marisol said, “when America was expanding. They went through Ellis Island and other processing centers and got medical examinations and had their documents checked. They did all the paperwork and took the tests for citizenship.”

“Why so easy for them?” Carmella asked. “Because they came from Europe, that’s why.”

“No, Carmella,” Marisol said. “It was different then. America was growing quickly, and they needed more and more immigrants to do the manual labor needed to build the country as it expanded. Except for farmers, it’s not like that now. And what other manual labor is needed now the Americans believe should go to them.”

Julio brought the soup bowl to his mouth and swallowed the remaining meneudo. “I don’t agree. Most Mexicans here do the work that Americans will not, or do it for less money.”

Carlos also lifted his bowl and drank the rest of the soup. “We’re getting off the subject,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “We can’t know this new law will be passed. If it does, we might be okay. If not, then we’re back to where we started. And we’ve got to expect the worst and be ready.”

Carmella put the empty soup bowls into the sink, and Marisol set plates on the table. She placed the kettle of stew in the middle of the table, then a plate of warmed tortillas and a bowl of jalapenos next to it. Carlos filled everyone’s plate, then tore off a piece of tortilla, folded it into a scoop shape and shoveled out a large mouthful of the stew. As he chewed, he gave Marisol the okay sign with his fingers.

“Carlos,” Julio said. “You should join the rally next month. The more of us out there, the more effect we have. We’ve got to do everything we can.”

Carlos scooped out another mouthful of stew. “No, I won’t do it, Julio. Better we work on ways to get around this law or make plans to move.”

Carmella pushed away her plate. “I’m not hungry. All this talk about what’s going on—”

Julio put his hand on hers. “Take just a few bites. You need to eat.”

Carmella took a small mouthful and chewed it slowly, looking down at her plate.