She shivers. How does he know about the threat to her family?
Elias whispers in her ear. “Sara, do you think that you and I—? Do you think there’s any chance …”
Sara moves away from him and pretends to cough. She’s not good at this kind of game, and she can’t stand being close to him a moment longer. “No,” she says firmly but kindly. “There’s no chance of any relationship between us other than as colleagues who respect each other. I’m flattered you think of me that way, but no. Thank you.”
She walks back to her table, aware that she has left Elias standing alone on the dance floor. She sits down and tries to smile at the people looking at her. Juana has a strange, disapproving look on her face. Sara wants to tell her what she just realized about Elias, but she can’t without revealing all her other secrets. Mami pushes her glass of water in Sara’s direction, and she empties it in one long swallow.
Mami leans over and whispers in her ear, “Luisa says we can go whenever you want.”
“In a little while,” Sara says. She needs a few minutes to recover, and she does not want people to see their departure as related in any way to Elias.
She sits there quietly, listening to the music and watching people dance. Elias is at the bar getting another drink. Juana has spent most of the evening flirting with the man next to her, an anchor for one of Juárez’s television stations. He’s a handsome man in his forties with a deep, almost musical voice, and he’s there alone, although Sara knows he is married. When the man gets up to talk to one of the young men sitting at Elias’s table, Sara asks her, “Is everything all right?”
“That’s what I should be asking you,” Juana says.
“What do you mean?”
Juana reaches over, grabs a half-full bottle of red wine, and fills her glass. “That little scene with Elias. What was that all about?”
“Too much tequila,” Sara says.
“What do you mean? Be specific.”
Sara stares at her for a moment, wondering if the wine is responsible for Juana’s tone of voice. She hates what alcohol does to people. Emiliano feels the same way. Once when she was ten and Emiliano was eight, Papá came home drunk, and in a voice loud enough to wake them up, proceeded to tell Mami their marriage was a big mistake. Mami waited until the tirade was over and then calmly told him that if he drank again, she would leave him. The next day he went to a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, and he never touched another drop of alcohol. He still goes to meetings in the United States and he’s still sober—that’s what he says in his letters. But not everyone has that discipline.
“He claims he has feelings for me,” Sara says to Juana.
Juana snorts and drinks the wine in her glass. “And you said?”
“I was nice. I thanked him. I told him I was flattered—I am flattered. But no. He’s not for me. I’m sure he won’t remember a thing tomorrow.”
Juana pours the remainder of the wine in the bottle into her glass. She turns her chair in Sara’s direction and takes a deep breath, as if to clear the cobwebs created by the wine. When she speaks again, she sounds totally sober and in control.
“Do you know why you will never be as good a reporter as me?”
Sara shakes her head, surprised.
“You feel too much,” Juana says, without any humor in her voice.
Sara laughs, relieved. She thought Juana was going to say that Sara wasn’t as courageous as she is, which is true.
“No, really. I’m serious,” Juana continues. “I can do my job well because I don’t let things get to me. I focus on what needs to be done and I do it. You feel too much. You put too much of yourself into your work. Sometimes the job requires callousness.”
“You’re not callous.”
“Let me tell you something,” Juana slurs. “The only thing that matters to me is my work. And my work is, for better or for worse, tied to El Sol. At my age there’s no way I’d get a job anywhere else. And anyway, that paper is my baby. Felipe and I founded it. We kept it going through the worst of times. Two of our reporters got killed. When Felipe was ready to fold, I found the money to keep us open. You don’t think I’m callous? Who do you think fired, I mean laid off, two-thirds of the staff? Who decided to go from a daily to a weekly? Felipe didn’t have the heart or the guts or whatever it is you need to make those kinds of decisions. Who do you think is keeping El Sol going now? Felipe talks a tough line but he’s a softy … like you.” Juana drains the last drop of wine from her glass. Then, looking into the distance, she says, “That job and two stupid cats is all I got.” She raises the empty glass at a passing waiter.
“Are you all right? We can drive you home,” Sara says.
“I’ll call a taxi,” Juana says. Then, “Your father lives in the United States?”
“Yes, Chicago.”
“So he’s an American citizen?”
Sara can’t help smiling. Where is that question coming from? “No,” she says patiently, “he’s got a green card. I think he’s waiting for his citizenship papers.”
“He married again?”
“Yes. They’re happy, from what he tells me.”
“What does he do?”
“He worked in construction for a while, like he did when he lived here, until he saved enough money to start his own business. He sells and fixes air conditioners.”
“So he’s a good man? You like him.”
“He has a good heart. He does what he can to help out.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Oh, nothing. Just before Elias asked me to dance I was thinking about my father and my mother, and how Mami accepted him leaving and is okay with it. She can even remember the good times she had with him without any bitterness.” Sara looks at her mother, who’s laughing over something Luisa has said.
Juana grabs Sara’s arm and leans close to her face. “Why not get your father to help you get your residency or a work visa? Once you’re legit, find a job in El Paso. The El Paso Times loved that article you did on the joint task force—the one between the FBI and the Mexican Attorney General’s Office. Your English is excellent already. You’ll start at the bottom just like you did at El Sol, probably making photocopies or something, but knowing you, that wouldn’t be for long.”
“Are you firing me?” Sara asks, laughing.
“I’m thinking of what’s best for you. What did you say in that article about the task force? Remember, ‘the U.S. legal system is not perfect in practice, but it may be as good as it gets’?”
“Mmm,” Sara says. “I’m very flattered that you think I would be a good reporter in America. But this is my home, and here is my family. Mexico is where I belong, even with all its problems. As much as I admire the laws and the freedom of the United States, I love my Mexico more. I love this stupid city. I don’t know why, but I do.” She stops, a little embarrassed. It sounded like she was making a speech.
Juana sits there, looking at her. After a while, she speaks in a different, sober tone. “You also have to consider the fact that your life may be very short if you stay here. Especially if you keep investigating that e-mail.”