The Middle of Somewhere(35)

“It worked out fine for me because the University of New Mexico was putting together a program in biomed engineering. I did graduate work and earned some money as a teaching assistant.

“It felt like we were playing house. Gabriel would leave for work in the morning and come home by dinnertime. I had more free time, so I did most of the housework and cooking. I guess that’s why it felt like playing house. It was all so grown-up, but even though I knew how to do all the tasks, it felt like someone else was doing them. But I figured all newlyweds go through that—at least they did on TV.”

Dante said, “The idea of TV explaining life scares me.”

“It’s what I had.” She rounded the corner of a switchback without pausing. “Anyway, on weekends we’d see a movie or go for a hike. On Sundays he went to church—I sometimes went, too—then Gabriel spent ages reading The New York Times. It was a habit he started in college. He said he never had time to read most of it when he was in school, but now he did. I thought it was a little odd—to read the book reviews but never the books, to read about sports but never watch a game—but so what? While he read, I talked on the phone with Valerie, or went for a long run.

“Every other weekend we’d drive to Santa Fe to see his family, and sometimes Claire. Claire was odd. She’d greet us at the door as if she’d forgotten we existed, and wasn’t thrilled to be reminded. Then she’d recover a little, show us her latest work, and maybe even convince us to go to a gallery to see her friends’ stuff. Claire was Claire.”

“I don’t think mothers like her exist in Mexico,” Dante said. “I mean, when I met her, if I hadn’t known she was your mother I never would have guessed. Except your mouths are exactly the same.”

“They are?”

“Precisely.”

Liz ran her fingers over her lips and tasted dirt and sunscreen. She adjusted her hat and resumed her normal pace. “Anyway, back to Gabriel’s family. They seemed different to me than when we had visited from L.A. Or maybe they’d always been that way, only now I noticed because I was married.”

“Different how?”

“For instance, Gabriel’s parents never touched each other. They must have had sex a minimum of five times, right? And I don’t mean pawing each other. I mean no pecks on the cheek, not a hand on an elbow. Nada. They were as kind to each other as ever, but physically they treated each other like lepers.

“The other thing was they mostly talked about other people, or causes. When they asked Gabriel or me about our jobs or whatever, they were ticking a box. We were married; we had promising futures, so we weren’t interesting. I wasn’t insulted by it, but over time it struck me as strange.”

“It does seem odd not to be interested in your son’s life. But usually there is a reason.”

She continued around the next switchback and paused to face him. “Are you thinking about your father?” Dante’s father had endorsed his son’s pursuit of both an undergraduate and master’s degree in the States because he believed Dante would return to take up the mantle of his hugely profitable business supplying weapons components to the Mexican and U.S. militaries. When Se?or Espinoza realized his son had no intention of returning home, he was furious. Only his wife’s emotional breakdown averted a complete dissolution of their relationship.

Dante’s tone was somber. “Yes, of course, but I can dwell on failing my father another time. Right now I want to hear about Gabriel.”

“You sure?”

He nodded and she led them upward again.

“Back to the Pembertons. They always drank—pretty sure I mentioned that—but the longer I knew them, the more they seemed to drink. It could have been because we were there mostly on weekends, when most people do their serious drinking. But I wondered about that, too. And all of it started me thinking about the normal life Gabriel said everyone wanted. I wanted. It got me wondering about what it meant.”

“To be normal?”

“Yes. I thought it was the same thing as being happy.”

“It would be nice if that were true.” They traversed two more switchbacks. Finally, Dante said, “You haven’t finished the story.”

Liz took a deep breath. “After about six months at his job, Gabriel started playing around with video games in the evening. Not just playing them—he’d been into that in college—but designing them. It seemed hugely frustrating for him, because he didn’t have a clue how to proceed. I don’t understand much about computing, but systems analysts and programmers are different species. I suggested he take some courses, but he said he didn’t have the time or the money. Which made no sense because he spent a lot of time working at it at home. Hours. He’d stay up late and have trouble getting up in the morning for work.