The e-mail. So somehow Juana knows that she’s continued looking into it.
“I want you to leave it alone, Sara. I mean it.”
“I can’t. Not yet.” Sara catches her breath, tries to explain. “Linda was … is my best friend. I’ll work on it on my own time if you tell me absolutely as my boss that you want me to stop.” Sara waits for her to respond, but all Juana does is glare. She goes on, “You know you’re my role model, don’t you? You know I’m only doing what you taught me to do.”
“Go ahead, then, get yourself killed. See if I give a damn.”
Sara knows that Juana doesn’t mean that. It’s the alcohol speaking. Right?
Emiliano, lying on his bed, picks up the letter and reads:
I wanted to talk to you tonight but you didn’t want to come to the phone. I don’t write very good. But I am still your father, even if you don’t think so. Your mother told me about the shoplifting and how you were caught. Why, Emiliano? Because you are angry at me? Why do you want to hurt your mother and sister and your future just because of me? You and me spent a lot of time talking about what is right and wrong. It is the most important thing a father can teach a son. When you came home from school with those binoculars you took from a friend, didn’t we take a bus all the way to his house so you could return them and apologize? Stealing or doing other wrong acts is not about me, Emiliano, or what you think of me. It’s about the kind of person you are. Even if I was the worst person in the world and as bad as you think I am, that would not make it right to be a criminal or even dishonest. I’m not perfect but at least I can say that I’m not a criminal. I want to do well doing honest work. It would have been easy enough for me to make lots of money doing something illegal, trust me on that. I hope you find it in your heart to love me again. You don’t know how much it hurts me that you may think I don’t love you. What I want most of all, with all my heart, is for you to know that I do. I do love you, Emiliano. I hope someday you understand that divorcing your mother was something I believe is best for all of us, including you. Most of all, I have not stopped being your father and I am going to continue to remind you to be a good, honest, kind person, just like I did when I was with you.
He hears a knock on the door and for a moment he thinks it’s his father. Emiliano puts the letter down.
“You decent?” It’s Sara. He looks quickly at the digital clock on a stool next to his bed. Three a.m.
“No.”
Sara opens the door anyway. He’s fully dressed. He didn’t even bother to take off Paco’s loafers. He got home before Sara and Mami were back from the quinceañera and threw himself on the bed. Then, when he thought that Sara and Mami were asleep, he got up and took a shoe box full of unopened letters from his father out of his closet. He searched for the only one he ever opened and read, and when he found it, he read it again. Now the shoe box is on the floor and the letters are scattered over the bed. He’s been lying there staring at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” Sara asks. Emiliano sees her look at the shoe box on the floor. When he doesn’t answer, she says, “I can’t sleep either.”
He closes his eyes. Why he thought of reading that particular letter now is something he doesn’t fully understand. It has something to do with the decision he needs to make, he realizes that. But how is that letter going to help one way or another? And, besides, hasn’t he already decided? Didn’t the conversation with Mr. Esmeralda and that kiss with Perla Rubi pretty much seal the deal?
“How was Mrs. Esmeralda’s birthday party?”
“Okay.”
“Did something happen? With Perla Rubi?”
Emiliano shakes his head. Then, with his eyes still closed: “Why can’t you sleep? Did something happen at the quinceañera?”
That’s enough of an invitation for Sara to pull out the desk chair and sit. Emiliano opens one disapproving eye but doesn’t say anything. The truth is that his sister’s presence makes him feel better. “It’s not just the quinceañera. Stuff at work.” She grabs her head with both hands.
Emiliano pushes some of the letters out of the way and sits up. “Like what?”
Sara raises her head. He sees her hesitate. “Oh, things, you know. My work with the Desaparecidas. It gets to me sometimes. My bosses don’t want me to write about them anymore. I’m supposed to write about happy things. Show how much better Juárez is now than five years ago. So tourists and businesses can come back.” Her words have a bitter tone.
“Things are better. Aren’t they?” Or maybe the bad people look more like the good people, he thinks. Armando, Mr. Reyes, Mr. Esmeralda. They don’t look like your typical narcos.
And what about you, Emiliano? You getting ready to be a narco too?
The words in his head sound distinctly like his father’s. In place of reprimands, he liked to ask questions. How do you think Paco is going to feel when he finds his favorite marble is missing? He knows he didn’t lose it. He loves that marble. He’ll know it was stolen. What if someone stole that collection of soccer cards you treasure so much? Those kinds of questions.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re white as a sheet. Tell me,” Sara insists.
“I hate parties.”
“I know. They can be hard if your mind is full of other things. They’re probably more fun if you drink. Although, I don’t know, Mami had fun tonight and she didn’t drink.”
Emiliano is quiet. It’s not really true that he hates parties. What exactly did he hate about Mrs. Esmeralda’s birthday party? He loved Perla Rubi’s house. The terrace, the turquoise pool, the kitchen the size of his own house, the Mexican paintings adding touches of color to the solemn rooms and halls. It’s the kind of house he would like to have someday. The kind of house he dreams of building for his mother and sister. Perla Rubi was beautiful. That Federico guy was a jerk, but he doesn’t hate him. And Mr. Esmeralda? He made clear the conditions under which he would be allowed to be Perla Rubi’s boyfriend.
It’s those conditions that you hate. The conditions for having a house like Mr. Esmeralda’s, for being allowed to be his daughter’s boyfriend. That’s why you didn’t like the party.
Emiliano shakes his head. He folds the letter next to him and sticks it in the envelope. Then he places it and the other unopened letters back in the shoebox. What would Sara say if he told her everything that happened that day? It’s clear she’s preoccupied with something heavy—probably another threat. The last thing he wants to do is add to her worries.
“Speaking of happy things,” Sara says as Emiliano puts the letter in the envelope, “I’m supposed to do an article on the Jiparis.” She waits for him to say something. When he doesn’t, she continues, “I told my boss that I would try to go on an overnight hike with you guys. I know you have one next week. Do you think it would be okay if I come with you? Interview people, take some pictures?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The article will be great publicity for the Jiparis. Brother Patricio will get some good donations, I’m sure.”