Have You Seen Luis Velez?(83)

“Is there anything we can do about that woman now?”

“Like what?”

“An appeal or something?”

“I don’t think you can appeal an acquittal. I think you appeal a conviction. Otherwise you’d run into that double jeopardy thing.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I think you’d need to talk to an attorney about whether there are any options left in a case like this.”

Right. Like I can afford to talk to an attorney.

Then it hit him. He knew an attorney. Luis Javier Velez, Esquire. The man who had given Raymond his business card in case there was anything he could do to help. Now Raymond just had to figure out where he had put the card. Then again, he’d already found the man without a card once.

They spooned and sipped in silence for a minute or two.

“It’s nice to see you caring about the world,” his father said, “and having people you care about. But you have to let people go through whatever it is they have to go through. Just be there for your friends. That’s all we can really do for each other sometimes.”

Raymond nodded, though it was far less than he had hoped to hear.

“You know what I think is nice? That we talk to each other more than we used to.”

“Absolutely,” his father said. “I think that’s nice, too.”

“I have two more little favors to ask you,” Raymond said. “Can I borrow your cell phone? And, next Sunday, would it be okay if I left early? Like right in the middle of the day?”

His father reached into his jacket pocket and frowned. “I think . . . I forgot it.”

“Then can I come in and use your phone when we get back?”

“Seems a shame to come all the way back to the apartment just to make a phone call. You need to go the exact opposite direction to get home.”

Raymond turned his face away. Looked out the window and watched people hurry by, so his father wouldn’t see the disappointment in his eyes. He was not welcome back at his dad’s apartment after they were done with their ice cream, because his dad wasn’t willing to fight it out with his wife.

“Tell you what I’ll do, though,” Malcolm said, digging in his wallet.

Money won’t help this.

“You can take my phone card. It has a PIN number, and you can use a pay phone, and the charges will go directly to my phone bill. And yes, of course, if there’s someplace you need to be on Sunday, then go ahead and be there. We’ll work around it.”



“Mrs. G told me about your nice invitation,” Raymond said. “Thank you for that. I can still close my eyes and taste that chocolate cake. I was thinking maybe next Sunday.”

He stood at a fully exposed pay phone on a busy sidewalk, halfway to the subway station. When Sofia Velez answered him, the din of traffic nearly drowned out her voice.

“Next Sunday would be fine. It’ll be good to see you again. Come around and bring your friend about twelve thirty or one.”

“Okay, good. That’ll be good for her. I hope. She’s been very . . .”

But he couldn’t find the right way to fit the word despair into the sentence.

“Oh, I can imagine it’s hard for her. We heard about the trial. Luisa followed it on the internet. It’s really too bad when a thing like that happens and it’s not even in the news more. You would think people would care more about it.”

“Yeah,” Raymond said. “You would think. Can I ask you a question? What would you do to help a friend of yours if she was just completely in despair?”

A long silence. At least, on the line. In Raymond’s left ear. The rest of the world, in his right ear, nearly overpowered him with its noise.

“That’s a hard question,” she said. “Can I think about it?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe when you come on Sunday I’ll know more what to say.”



Raymond stuck his head into the library the following afternoon. Last period, when he should have been in study hall.

Every time he did, he expected to find other students using the facility. But once again there was nobody there but the librarian.

“Raymond,” she said. Wryly, as if his name were a nice bit of irony. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“Study hall.” He moved closer to her desk as he spoke. “But, seriously . . . can’t I study here? I mean . . . it’s a library.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll write you a note.”

Raymond breathed more fully. He grabbed a chair by its wooden back, pulled it up close to her desk, and sat facing her. He dug in his backpack and took out the book he’d borrowed. The beginner’s book on quantum physics.

“Are you returning this?”

Raymond only nodded.

“Did you read the whole thing? It’s not exactly light reading.”

“No. It’s really not. But I read every word.”

“Do you feel like you understood it? Because I know people two or three times your age who can’t grasp this stuff at all.”

Raymond sat back and thought a minute. He wanted to give her an honest answer. Not fire something off the top of his head. She seemed to be offering him a real conversation. He wanted to take her up on that.