The Book of Unknown Americans(54)

Rafael had to rev the engine a few times to get it to start in the cold, and just after it did, someone called from the balcony.

Rafael cranked the window down.

“Is everything all right?” I heard a voice yell. Quisqueya. She said, “I heard some commotion, so I came out to check.”

“We’re fine,” Rafael shouted back.

Quisqueya bent down to peer between the balcony bars. “Who’s there?”

“It’s the Riveras and us,” Rafa called. “We’re headed to the park to take the kids skating.” I caught a glimpse of her face, which betrayed disappointment mixed with a flash of envy.

Rafael said, “Celia will call you later,” and I saw Quisqueya give him a doubtful look as he raised the window.

“I don’t need—” she started to say, but the window closed before she finished.

“Why did you tell her I would call her later?” Celia asked.

“Just to get her off our back. What does she care what we’re doing?”

“But now I have to call her later!”

Rafael put the car in reverse. “Vidajena, that woman,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Mayor asked.

“A nosy person,” Rafael said. “Always interfering.” He started to pull out. “Okay, enough of this. If we wait much longer, the ice is going to melt. Vámonos.”


THERE MUST HAVE BEEN a hundred children at the marsh. As we walked toward the frozen pond, we saw them flailing their arms and squealing as they cast their bodies across the surface, half squatting to steady themselves.

“Will it break?” I asked. “With all those children on top of it?”

“I don’t know how it works,” Arturo said.

We walked over the brittle grass and when we came to the pond, Maribel crouched down and laid her hand against the surface.

“You can skate on it,” Celia said. “See all the kids?”

“Go ahead,” Arturo said. “Let’s see if you can stand on ice. That’s not something any of your friends in Pátzcuaro can say.”

We all waited for her to do something, but Maribel simply squatted with her feet rooted to the ground, staring back at us through her sunglasses.

“Come on, Maribel,” I said. I meant to sound encouraging, but it came out shrill.

Arturo glared at me, and I looked away from him, embarrassed by my impatience.

“Don’t you want to try it?” Mayor asked. He jumped onto the ice and slid with his arms out to the sides. “See? It’s fun.”

Maribel stood and took a step toward the ice, and Mayor hurried back to help her down. He walked slowly, pulling her along. I held my breath, watching her every step, worried that she might fall. But she was walking on her own before long, one foot carefully in front of the other, and I looked at Arturo and smiled.

“She’s doing it,” I said.

Rafael and Celia glided out into the middle of the pond together, and cautiously, with his hands in his coat pockets, Arturo stepped onto the ice and twisted his boots in small Z’s, staring at his feet.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

“It’s like a floor,” he said. “Come try it.”

Arturo skated backwards on the soles of his boots, looking over his shoulder as he moved to make sure he wasn’t about to bump into anyone. I stood on the bank of the marsh and watched him, the way he wobbled and twitched.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. I jerked my head around. The boy, I thought. But when I turned, no one was there. Had he been there? I felt sure of it all of a sudden, sure that he was watching us, waiting for his chance. I looked back to where Maribel had been standing with Mayor, but I didn’t see her. I didn’t see her or Mayor. I scanned the marsh, raking my eyes through all the bodies moving across the ice, the children in their bright coats and wool hats, shrieking and laughing. “Maribel?” I said out loud. “Mari!”

The next thing I knew, Arturo was in front of me again, at the edge of the bank. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Where did she go?” I said. “Maribel!”

Arturo whipped around. “Mar—” he began to shout. Then he stopped. “She’s right there, Alma. She’s standing with Mayor.”

I tried to focus on where he was pointing. “I don’t see her.”

“She’s right there.”

And then: her dark hair, her thin, coltish legs in her slim jeans, her big coat. I blinked and took a long breath, trying to loosen the fist around my heart.

“I didn’t see her,” I said.

Arturo shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

“I lost track of her.”

Arturo stepped off the ice and onto the bank where I was. “No,” he said. “It’s something else. I don’t just mean now.”

And for one compact second, for no real reason, I considered telling him about the boy. It was nothing more than a block of words, I thought, that I could hand him, like a gift. But what would he think of me now, knowing that I’d been keeping so much from him for so long? The boy coming to the apartment, me going to Capitol Oaks, finding the boy with Maribel that day. Besides, before we left México I had promised him I would handle everything here. I had promised myself I wouldn’t burden him with one more thing. And now here it was: one more thing.