My Name Is Venus Black(61)

And they had fought. They had had terrible fights about her family and about the fact that, no matter what Maria said or did, he was convinced that she felt embarrassed in front of them for marrying him; he also suspected she was grateful when he opted out of family gatherings.

Given that strict Catholics had raised Maria, she didn’t believe in birth control, and she became pregnant within months of their marriage. They’d both been delighted by the news, and apart from morning sickness during the first trimester, Maria’s pregnancy seemed to go smoothly.

Tony was in the delivery room to see Tessa born. But then he was alarmed to realize something wasn’t right with Maria. He was ushered from the room and told to wait in the hall. Shortly, their doctor returned to give him the bad news. “I’m so sorry, Tony,” he said. “Maria suffered a retained placenta and hemorrhaged….She lost too much blood. She didn’t make it, Mr. Herrera.”

After Maria died, Tony had been so shocked, overwrought, and inconsolable that her family had taken the baby, and he’d actually let them. For a few months, he couldn’t see a way to go on and he figured Tessa was better off with a rich, if snooty, family.



He was also ashamed. Clearly he hadn’t caused Maria’s death, but every time he thought of her family and their disdain for him, he was overcome by the certainty that if she’d only married someone Catholic, someone better, she’d still be alive.

It was his older brother, Marco, who saved him next. Marco once had aspirations of going to law school. He never went, but he did graduate from UCLA and he did have a corporate job where he made pretty good money. It was Marco who helped Tony find the will—and the finances—to fight hard to reclaim Tessa.

The law was on his side, thank God. By then Tony had opened his first tattoo shop—a hole-in-the-wall off Beacon Street. He no longer took drugs, though he did still drink on occasion. Once in a while, he smoked pot—which in retrospect seems an irresponsible thing for a father to do.

Once the Delgados were forced to return Tessa—she was five months at the time—they threatened further legal action to prove that Tony wasn’t a fit father.

But that never happened. Instead, Maria’s mother, Mary, must have finally talked some sense into Maria’s father, Gerardo—because they turned on a dime. Tony was pretty sure they realized if they wanted access to Tessa and a chance to act as grandparents, they had to be nice to Tony. Had to at least pretend to accept him.

At the time, it was in Tony’s interest to involve them. After all, what did he know about taking care of a baby? His own parents lived too far away to help. So Tony was grateful when Mary offered to babysit her granddaughter. Marco helped, too—and so did a neighbor Tony trusted.

Somehow, they made it through. As Tessa got older and she and Tony bonded more deeply, the Delgados loosened their grip. They had half a dozen other grandchildren to focus on. And since they moved to L.A., the visits had dwindled to a few per year.



When Tony took in Leo, the Delgados had been his greatest concern. How to explain the sudden appearance of a blond, gray-eyed boy Tony claimed as family? In the end, he concocted a story wherein Tony had a cousin who had adopted the boy as a child but then the cousin died—and no one wanted Leo because he was developmentally disabled.

The ruse could never have worked if Leo hadn’t been Leo. At that age, he wasn’t interested in or able to contradict the convoluted tale of his origin. Tony knows Leo must have memories of his life before, but he gets angry when Tony or Tessa tries to probe the mystery.

Tony wishes he could say he has no regrets about Leo, but over the years the enormity of what he’s done by keeping Leo has kept him awake nights.

At one point, when he pulls off for gas, he decides to call home. Tessa would be home from school. After two rings, she picks up—only she won’t speak. There is simply silence on the other end. “Tessa? Is that you?” He can hear breathing. “Leo? Leo, did you answer the phone?”

Leo grunts yes in reply, and Tony starts to laugh. Leo has never picked up the phone before. When Tony and Tessa had tried to coax him to use the phone—they thought he should know how, for safety’s sake—he had refused.

Now Tony is shaking his head in wonder. “Where are you?” Leo asks.

“Remember? I went on a trip to Seattle,” Tony says. “Is Tessa home? Does she know you answered the phone?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Oh,” says Tony. “How is everything going?” he asks Leo.

“Fine.” Fine is one of Leo’s favorite words.

“That’s great. How was school today?”



“Fine. Goodbye,” says Leo. And then he hangs up. Tony can’t stop laughing and shaking his head. God, he loves that kid. Hearing his voice just now gives him the boost he needs to keep hope alive. Hope for a miracle. Hope that whoever is looking for Leo isn’t fit to care for him. Or, better yet, doesn’t really want him back.





Tony spends Friday night in a ratty Motel 6 somewhere in northern Oregon, drives away before dawn, and arrives in Everett on Saturday by late morning.

The library is easy to find. But he feels conspicuous, especially with his tattoos and ponytail. A reference librarian leads him to a desk with a microfiche reader. Then she brings over film for the Everett Daily Herald newspaper for February 1980. She shows him how to load the film and press the right button to make it go one frame at a time; another button makes it go very fast. Sitting in the wooden chair taking directions makes Tony feel like he is back at school.