Fire Sale

I added an introduction to Mr. Contreras, without explaining his relationship to me—that was so complicated I didn’t think I could do it in one sentence. My neighbor astonished me by bypassing Rose to pick up the wailing infant. Maybe it was his deep, soft voice, or just because he was calm: Rose was so wired she could have powered the whole South Side, with enough to spare for Indiana, but in a matter of minutes Mr. Contreras had the baby quiet, resting against his flannel shirt and blinking sleepily at the room. I knew he’d raised a daughter, and he had two grandsons, but I’d never seen him in action with babies.

 

The couch, where Julia was usually planted watching television, had been pulled out into Rose’s bed. Beyond, in the dining room, I saw Betto and Sammy, lying on their air mattresses under the dining room table. They weren’t moving, but, as I looked, I saw the living room lamp glint on their eyes: they were awake and watching. Rose was pacing round and round in the tiny space between the bed and the door, wringing her hands, bleating disjointed, contradictory statements.

 

I took her arm and led her forcibly to the bed. “Sit down and try to think calmly. When was the last time you saw Josie?”

 

“This morning. She was dressing for school, and I was leaving, I was going to the alderman’s office, he’s a good person, I’m thinking maybe he knows of a job, something that pays better than By-Smart, and I went to two places, but they’re not hiring, and I came back to make lunch for Betto and Sammy, they come home for lunch, but Josie, she eats at school, and that’s it, I never see her since then, since this morning.”

 

“Did you two argue about anything? About Billy, maybe?”

 

“I was very angry that she had this boy staying here. Any boy, I would be angry, but this boy, with his family so rich, what is she thinking? They could hurt us. Everybody knows how they don’t want their son dating no Mexican girl, everybody knows they called down to the church and made threats to Pastor Andrés.”

 

Rose sprang back to her feet in her agitation. The disturbance made the baby start to whimper again; Mr. Contreras interrupted to ask for María Inés’s bottle.

 

Rose fished for it on the floor next to the bed, and went on talking. “I said, how did she think she was raised, to have a boy in the room with her overnight? Does she want a baby, like Julia? To ruin her life for a boy, especially a rich boy who don’t need to worry about nothing? He says he’s a Christian, but the first sign of trouble they run away fast, those rich Anglo boys. She is supposed to go to college, that’s what I tell her, she wants to go, with April. Then she don’t have to be like me, going around begging for jobs and not getting hired.”

 

“Did she say anything back, threaten to run away, anything like that?”

 

She shook her head. “All this, we say all this after that boy’s family come here. They accused her, they call her ugly names, and, God forgive me, we all lied, we all say, no, Billy don’t come here. The grandfather, he was like the police, he listen to nothing, nothing I say, and he actually go into the bedroom, into the bathroom, checking to see if something is there from Billy. He says, if Billy comes here, if I hide him, he’ll deport me. Don’t you try, I tell him, because I am a U.S. citizen same as you, I belong in this country same as you.

 

“And the son, Billy’s father, he’s even worse, looking in my Bible, looking in the children’s books, like we have money we stole from them maybe—he even take my Bible and shake it all over the floor, so all my page markers come loose, but when they leave, Dios, what a fight I had with Josie then. How could she put us all at such risk and all for a boy. They’re like buses, I tell her, always another one will come along, don’t ruin your life, not like Julia here.

 

“She fights, she argues, she cries, but she don’t say she’s running away. Then in the afternoon, this boy, this Billy, shows up with a box of groceries, and Josie acts like he’s Saint Michael coming down from heaven, only then he left again, without her, and she sat all day like Julia, in front of the television, watching their telenovelas.”

 

I rubbed my head, trying to take in the torrent of information. “What about Julia? What does she say?”

 

“She says she knows nothing. Those two, they fight day and night now, not like before, before María Inés. Then they were so close, you think they were one person sometimes. If Josie has a secret, she don’t say nothing to Julia about it.”

 

“I’d like to ask her myself.”

 

Rose protested, halfheartedly: Julia would be asleep, and she was too angry with Josie to know anything.

 

Mr. Contreras patted her hand. “Victoria here won’t say nothing to upset your girl. She’s used to talking to young people. You just sit down and tell me about this beautiful little girl here. She’s your grandkid, huh? She’s got your beautiful eyes, don’t she?”

 

His reassuring rumble followed me as I picked my way through the tightly packed dining room to the girls’ bedroom. The skin prickled at the back of my neck, knowing the two boys were lying under the table watching me.

 

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