The Same Sky(24)

Ernesto strode forward, seemingly untouched by the water, which reached my rib cage. Junior cried out, terrified, and I put my arm around him, pulling him alongside me. The water was brown, forceful, smelling of earth. Fear made me strong, even as it made my mouth bitter. My feet lost touch with the ground and I tried to swim forward.

I prayed we would not drown.

“Hold on, Junior!” I screamed. He wrapped his skinny body around my back as I tried to propel myself with my arms and legs. I swam toward the opposite bank, where Ernesto stood on dry land, pulling on his pants. Junior’s tight grip pulled me under the waves. I struggled to keep my mouth above water.

“Help me, Ernesto!” I yelled. Junior’s flailing arms circled my neck. Ernesto turned around and met my eyes. Then he stepped back into the water and held out his hand. I took it, his grip a solid thing. He pulled us both to safety.

In Guatemala, I lay on the muddy bank, breathing hard. Junior did not release me, but burrowed closer. His backpack was gone. “Thank you,” I said, looking up. But there was no answer. Ernesto had already begun walking down a brushy path, headed for the next country, which was Mexico.

We stood, and we followed him.





18




Alice


JAKE WAS ASLEEP in his bathing suit when I got home, half an iced tea in front of him on the coffee table, a Yankees game buzzing on the television. The striped towel he took swimming was damp, hung over a chair at the kitchen table. I let myself be still for a minute, watched his chest rise and fall. Jake wasn’t fat, exactly; he was strong and loved to swim and play touch football. Like his father, Jake had been a star quarterback. His parents’ giant brick house in Lockhart (located across the street from the football stadium) was filled with framed pictures of Jake in his Lions uniform, posing with the team.

High school football was a big deal in Lockhart; Jake had once hoped he’d play in college, maybe even pro. But a knee injury had derailed him, leading him to New York, and to me.

I sat next to my husband on the couch, wrapped my arms around his girth. He smelled like sunscreen and chlorinated water. His skin was hot against my face. He had been looking at the Austin American-Statesman when he’d fallen asleep, and I narrowed my eyes to see that he’d been reading the classifieds. More specifically, the “Pets and Livestock” ads.

Jake rolled toward me, murmuring something about a spaceship. I nestled close, then had a crazy idea. Carefully I took the paper from under his arm. I moved quietly to avoid waking him, going back outside into the blazing afternoon.

In front of their house, Camilla watched her children playing in a plastic pool. She wore a tiny string bikini and her skin glistened with oil. She waved lazily. I waved back. “Come over!” she cried in her lilting accent. “Is it time for margaritas?”

“Not for me, thanks,” I said, walking across the alley to her house. “I’m on a mission,” I confided.

“A mission?” said Camilla, sitting up. Her thick black hair fell in a braid down her back, and she wore a wide straw hat. “Tell me more,” she said. “This sounds very exciting.”

Her kids splashed each other, somehow energetic despite the heat. “Jake wants a dog,” I said.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“What do you mean, oh, no?” I said.

“Dogs,” said Camilla, tossing her hand as if shooing a fly. “What about a fish?”

“Can we get a fishy, Mommy?” asked one of Camilla’s daughters.

“Absolutely not, no,” said Camilla.

“Awww!” the girls cried.

“I had the strangest day,” I said, sitting on Camilla’s front steps.

She made a questioning sound, and I told her all about Evian, Sam, and the movies. I told her about returning Evian to her trailer, where we discovered her mother passed out on the couch, an empty jug of Chablis on the coffee table. “I didn’t want to leave Evian,” I said. “But she insisted she was fine.”

Sadness flared in me as I remembered the way Evian had stepped quickly in front of her mother, embarrassed. “She works really hard, so obviously she’s super sleepy on the weekends,” Evian had said, ushering me back outside. As I drove away, I saw Evian come outside with the empty wine jug, tossing it in the trash, sinking down onto her front stoop, placing her chin in her hand.

“What you need will come to you, Alice,” said Camilla gently. “You don’t have to go trying so hard.”

“That sounds great, Camilla,” I said, annoyance sour in my stomach. “But it’s not so easy for everyone.”

“I know, I know,” said Camilla. “But I thought I was meant to be a scientist, and then Beau ran into me with his bicycle.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” she said. “I was visiting Texas for the summer, taking biology classes at UT and also painting and drawing. I set up my easel along Bee Caves Road to paint the bridge at sunset. There I was, beginning to sketch, and a man in spandex biking shorts came along and knocked me over.”

“Beau hit you with his bike?” I said.

“Beau hit me with his bike!” she exclaimed. “Worse, he sprained his ankle in the fall. You know how he clips his shoes to the pedals? So I had to take him to the hospital. And, well … here I am. Sunbathing in a yard with American daughters instead of on a real beach with an ocean. I’ll be a U.S. citizen next month.” She sat back, satisfied that she had made her point.