Have You Seen Luis Velez?(87)

“Of course. Anything.”

“Bring them here for just a moment?”

He carried them to where she sat and perched on the edge of the couch, holding them out for her. She lifted her chin, which seemed encouraging. He watched her pull in a deep breath through her nose. Then she raised one ancient hand and began to explore the blooms by feel.

“Roses,” she said. “And irises. I especially love irises. And is that baby’s breath? Thank you for bringing them. They’re beautiful.”

Raymond sat a moment longer than necessary and realized he had expected her to say “they must be beautiful.” Not “they are beautiful.” It was the first time he had stopped to consider that something could be beautiful in the absence of sight. He was glad to know it. Glad for her.

“I brought you these, too.”

He handed her the little box from the chocolatier, and she lifted the cover carefully, as if its contents might be as fragile as a blown egg. She inhaled deeply.

“Oh, it smells wonderful. I haven’t had good chocolate in ages. But tell me, Raymond, why are you spending so much money on me? I feel bad about that. Don’t you have to use your money for your own needs?”

“I just came into some money unexpectedly,” he said.

He sat quietly and watched as she took a tiny bite of chocolate truffle.

Then he said, “I say that a lot, don’t I?”

“I was just about to point that out. What is your secret? Billions of people will want to know.”

“I’m not sure.”

But he did have a thought about it. He simply did not feel ready, or even able, to form it into words. But it was something that had started happening after Raymond began helping. The more people saw him trying to help someone else, the more help they seemed to want to drop on him.

“I hope this is okay,” he said. “I told the Velez family—the other Velez family—that we’d come to supper this Sunday.”

He waited, but she only sighed. She did not refuse, which felt like progress.

“I just want to help you get on your feet again,” he added.

“Yes, I know you do. And I am so sorry, Raymond. I know you want me to put this all behind me, but parts of it I have never managed to put behind me, not in decade after decade of living. I feel as though my spirit has been shattered, and into so many pieces that I just can’t imagine picking them all up and trying to reassemble myself. And I feel guilty, because I wish I could do better for you. You are so sweet to spend your found money bringing me flowers and candy. And I’m not saying it doesn’t help at all. Of course it does. It’s like a light in the nighttime. A little candle flame in an otherwise endless night. It’s a comfort to have you and your thoughtfulness. But it’s still a long night.”

He sat for several seconds in silence. They both did.

“But you’ll go with me to that Sunday supper?”

“Yes,” she said. More resigned than motivated. “I will go because it means a lot to you that I go, and you mean a lot to me.”

He almost told her about Luis Javier Velez, Esquire, and the civil case. The acquitted shooter maybe having to put all three of Luis’s kids through college. He opened his mouth to tell her. But then he closed it again, and decided to wait until he was sure it would genuinely happen. He didn’t figure she could bear even one more disappointment.



“I hope you like chicken and dumplings,” Sofia Velez said.

They had just been called to the table. Raymond and Mrs. G were standing in the dining room doorway, arm in arm, waiting to be told where to sit.

“Oh, wonderful!” Mrs. G said. Raymond couldn’t tell if she felt genuine enthusiasm or was faking it to be polite. If the latter, it was a good fake. “It’s one of my favorite meals. I used to make it for my husband all the time, but I haven’t had it for years.”

“It sounds good,” Raymond said, because it also didn’t sound like anything he had eaten, ever.

Luis Senior showed them to places in the center of the table, carefully pulling out a chair for Mrs. G and holding it and guiding it as she sat. They waited while every member of the family came to his or her place and took a seat. It was a big family, so it was a big production.

“Abuela will say grace,” Luis Senior said.

Raymond felt first alarmed, then relieved. He wasn’t sure how Mrs. G would feel about a Christian prayer, being Jewish herself. Then again, she didn’t have to say it. Just listen to it. But Abuela would say grace in Spanish, which seemed better to Raymond somehow. Safer.

Luisa, the teen girl who had given him the medal, was sitting to his left. She slipped her hand into his. At first it startled him. But he looked up and around and saw that everyone was joining hands with everyone else. He took Mrs. G’s hand with his right.

Their abuela spoke four or five sentences in Spanish, then said, “Amen.” Raymond didn’t know if she had ended the prayer in English or if the word was the same in both languages.

“Amen,” Raymond said, because he couldn’t imagine how or why not to.

“Amen,” Mrs. G said.

They unclasped hands, and Luis Senior began to spoon chicken and dumplings onto plates, which were passed down the long sides of the table.

“Oh, it smells heavenly,” Mrs. G said.