The Same Sky(23)

“Well, see you in school,” said Sam, seemingly as confused as I. He leaned in for a smooch, and Evian held on to him tightly, then let go and started walking quickly toward Macy’s. (Somewhere past the bed-and-bath section was our exit back into the normal world.) “Nice to meet you,” I said to Sam awkwardly.

“Okay,” said Sam. “Bye.” He ambled off, and I hurried to catch up to Evian.

“Slow down,” I said.

“Do you think he loves me?” she asked. “I mean, real love?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Me neither,” said Evian wistfully. “Hey, can you buy me a Cinnabon?”

“Yes,” I said, glad to give her something tangible.

“And a Peanut Butter Cup Chillata?” she said, sidling close.

“Sure,” I said. As I was reaching for my wallet, Evian startled me with a quick, tight embrace. Before I had even registered the hug, it was over, and Evian was pointing to the Cinnabon menu, making her desires known.





17




Carla


I WOKE BEFORE IT was light, opening my eyes and squinting until the familiar metal roof came into focus above me. I could hear my brother’s breathing. For a moment I questioned leaving Tegucigalpa. I had never slept anywhere other than this pallet. Sure, it was lumpy, but it held the memory of my mother’s and grandmother’s bodies. I understood this house: how to make the stove light (it was tricky, and took a deft touch), where to store flour away from ants, how often you had to sweep to make a smooth place for your feet.

I turned to Junior. He was fast asleep, his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. Perhaps he was already too far gone, but if we did not leave, there was only one way his life could proceed. I had seen it happen again and again: the evolution of flesh-and-blood children into dim-witted monsters who cared for nothing but glue.

I thought of my mother. The dream of being next to her, of climbing into her lap … it made me feel light with hope. Resting my head against her chest as she ran her fingers through my hair …

“Get up,” I whispered to my brother. “Wake up. It’s time.”

“Is Mom really waiting for us?” whispered Junior.

“Yes,” I said.

He turned and stared at me, our faces inches apart.

“Do you promise?” he asked.

I had never lied to my brother before. I swallowed. “Yes,” I said, “I promise.”

He allowed himself a tiny smile, then he sat up and stretched. “They have ice cream at Texas Chicken,” he said. “They have a thing where you put a cookie, then ice cream, then whipped cream.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said. He nodded fervently.


I had dressed in many layers of clothing the night before, and now I helped Junior do the same. We shouldered our packs, gathered our many water bottles, and walked outside. Ernesto was already awake, hiding behind the bushes smoking a cigarette. He stood as we approached, tossed the cigarette to the ground, and pressed it out with his foot. He touched his injury, testing it gingerly. He needed a disinfectant, but this was the least of our worries. “Follow me,” said Ernesto.

We passed Humberto’s house on the way out of town. I wanted to go inside to say goodbye, but I did not know how. I could only believe we would be together again someday, and keep moving behind Ernesto. You had to follow God’s plan when it revealed itself to you, and that was that. I touched the cinder-block wall of Humberto’s house, pressed my love inside.

We walked for a very long time, hours, first on dirt roads and then through jungle. It grew very hot and humid; Junior did not complain, but his face was mottled. At one point he pulled the baby-food jar from his pocket. I made a move to take it away, but Ernesto said, “Leave him.”

I set my jaw and kept going. My feet became blistered, and as we pushed on through jungle, it was hard to see anything before us but unyielding vines and their large, sticky leaves. Bugs whistled in my ears and flew into my eyes and mouth. I was glad Ernesto was with us, as I would not have known in which direction to continue. “Will we stop for the night?” I said. The pain from my feet was growing raw; I could see blood when I examined my ankles.

“We must reach the river,” said Ernesto.

I stopped maybe two hours after this exchange, sitting down and drinking from a bottle. Junior sank next to me, reaching for the water. Ernesto was ten feet in front of us, and he turned, saying, “Don’t rest! I’m warning you.”

We stood. We continued. It was sunset by the time we reached the river. Despite the misery in my body, I was moved by the sight of the mountains of Guatemala, outlined by cinnamon clouds.

“Take off your clothes,” said Ernesto.

“I will not!” I said.

Ernesto put his face very close to mine. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “If you listen to me, we might make it to Texas.” Since my grandmother died, I was not used to taking orders from anyone. Though Ernesto scared me, it was a relief not to be in charge. “I’m not looking at your chest,” said Ernesto dismissively. This was true. He was staring at the large waves that surged across the river. Maybe he understood how to move through the current, I told myself unconvincingly.

Junior and I stripped to our underwear. (I kept on my shirt. I barely had breasts, though the area around my nipples was hot and a little puffy. Still, I wasn’t going to expose myself like a prostitute.) We copied Ernesto’s movements, jamming our clothes in our backpacks and holding them overhead as we slid down the side of the riverbank, our feet growing slimy with mud.