Furia(54)

Before I could reply that Diego wasn’t like that, she placed the forms on the table, her clear signature at the bottom.

“What’s he going to say?”

We both knew who he was.

She placed a finger on my lips. I tasted the sugar from the pastry. “The hunger for money and power eat away like rust, too, hija. I love your father, but . . .”

She didn’t finish her sentence, and I desperately wanted to know what she was going to say. But she loved me more? But she didn’t trust him?

“No matter what, you can’t play with that leg, hija.”

“Diego said that Doctor Gaudio at the polyclinic could help?”

She wrinkled her nose. “He’s kind of a jerk, but we’ll go Monday. He’s not in on the weekends. In the meantime, I know someone else who can help.”

I trusted her. For the first time, I felt like she was my friend.

While my mom got dressed to go out, Roxana called the house to tell me the scrimmage was cancelled because of the rain, but the meeting was still on.

“It’s better this way,” she said. “You’ll have time to rest your leg, and we can find a replacement for Sofía.”

“Sofía left? Ay, our defense is destroyed.”

“We’ll find someone.”

“We need more than someone. We’ll need subs.”

“Let’s talk more at the meeting,” she said. “Don’t be late. Write down the address . . .”

My mom made a sign for me to hurry. I hadn’t imagined she’d be ready so soon. I lowered my voice so she wouldn’t hear me. “Send me a text. I got a new phone. Here’s the number.”

Roxana’s surprise traveled through the line. “What? How?”

“Pablo.” Roxana didn’t press me for more information, and I left it at that.

“The taxi is waiting,” my mom called. I hung up and joined her outside. The rain had stopped, but the fog was thick. I was basically inhaling water.

“A taxi? How far are we going, Mami?”

She pressed her lips together and winked at me. “You’ll see.”

In the taxi, she turned to the window with wonder, as if she had forgotten how powerful a Santa Rosa storm could be and how the city looked with its face washed. How long was it since she’d been out beyond Circunvalación?

We arrived at a nondescript house in Arroyito just as Central’s game was starting. The streets were deserted, but I felt the energy and anticipation radiating from every house on the block as fans gathered around TVs, radios, computers, and phones.

An older lady opened the door. She smelled like cigarettes and roses. Seeing my mom, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Hola, Miriam,” my mom said, a smile in her voice.

“Isabelita, nena! It’s been too long! Since . . .”

My mom and the woman shared a charged look. Words seemed insufficient to describe the last time they’d seen each other. Then the woman turned her attention to me. Her eyes roved over me.

I averted my gaze as she scrutinized me, but her features were already imprinted in my mind. The deep wrinkles crisscrossing her face and the bright red lipstick contrasting with her white skin were not the marks of a witch, but there was something about her that screamed the word. Hair too golden to be natural framed her face in stiff curls.

“Nice to see the woman you’ve become, Camila.” She had a deep smoker’s voice. She moved out of the way so we could follow her into her house. “Last time your mom brought you here, you were seven months old and had pata de cabra.” Her fingers gently touched my shoulder, urging me inside. Electricity zipped along my spine, stopping at the base of my back. I didn’t remember this woman, but something inside me did. The door clicked closed behind us.

I tried to catch my mom’s eye, but she didn’t notice.

A set of rattan chairs and a sofa were the only furniture in the living room. A white cat peeked at me from the kitchen, but when I smiled at it, it hid behind a vase of lush devil’s ivy.

“Carmelita likes you, but she’s shy,” the woman said. “She likes bright, pretty things.”

My mom cleared her throat. “Thanks for seeing us so soon. This is urgent.”

Miriam scanned me up and down. Her yellowish teeth flashed briefly in a sad smile. “You got it bad, don’t you?”

I felt myself burning up. The image of Diego kissing me on the beach flashed in my mind, and Miriam laughed, clapping her hands.

“No, it’s not that.” My mom spoke too loudly to sound natural. “She has a sprained ankle. The doctor won’t be in until Monday, and by then, you might cure her already?”

After a nod, Miriam motioned for us to take a seat. “You know better than that, Isabelita. I don’t cure. It all depends on your faith and the will of the Lord. I’m just an instrument in the saints’ hands.”

“Which saints?” I asked, looking around to see if there was an altar, but she didn’t even have a cross on the wall.

Miriam shook her head. “The saints that guard you. I can see their protection all around you, bonita. The prayers of so many are layered upon your head.” She hovered her hand over my hair. I felt a current of energy, of warmth, flow from her palm to my head. I shivered.

“It’s the left leg?” she asked, her eyes looking beyond me. “A strained muscle, swollen tendons in your ankle.”