she was overwhelmed—and grateful—to know that she still had any.
Chapter 20
A few young boys hung over the railing on the top floor, looking down on their heads as they climbed up. One of them threw or spit a wad of gum into the stairwell. It just missed Louise’s hair. “ No me joda ,” Louise yelled without looking up. A few giggles overhead assured her she had used the right expression to say “Don’t fuck around with me.” The boys were laughing at the culprit, not at her. At the next landing, she ventured an upward glance, and they stepped back a little. “Hey!” she said loudly and gruffly. It was a greeting.
“Hallo,” only one of them answered. They were probably about ten or eleven years old. Any older, and she’d be petrified they’d have switchblades or ten gang members behind them. They probably did anyway. But they were still young enough to be just a little afraid of her and of their parents. She followed Yolanda Santiago up the last flight, deliberately exaggerating her panting for the boys’ entertainment. They laughed when she pretended to collapse, out of breath. She ruffled two heads as she went by, waiting for Yolanda to unlock her door.
“Elena!” The shrillness of Yolanda’s voice made it a shriek. A girl of about nine came running to kiss her. “Hi, Mommy.”
“Say hello to the lady, Elena. This is Señorita Sidway from the Welfare.” When the girl saw Louise, she swayed slightly, swinging her hands behind her back. “Come on, say hello. Hey, you want her think I don’t teach you no manners?” Elena shyly played with her skirt.
“Hello, Elena.” Louise casually dropped her hand on the girl’s shoulders. “I hear a lot about you, about how you help your mother with the twins and everything. Where’s your brother and sister?”
“They went to the store with Señora Sanchez,” she mumbled behind Yolanda.
“Gee, you’re real pretty.” Louise felt obligated to compliment her.
Elena tilted her head in a little laugh, trying to bury herself in her mother. She was pretty. Her long hair was in a neat ponytail. Pulled straight back, it left a few dark threads at her temples, which trailed loosely along her jawbone. She was so serious. Louise wondered how she would look with that thick hair in a short, stylish cut, bouncing with body. She’d turn into a real beauty. Unless she got pregnant during puberty or ran away from home at thirteen with some pimp. Louise saw girls like Elena, with four kids by the time they were twenty or twenty-two. They might start out trying to be good mothers, but alone, with no money, how could they cope? She hoped that wouldn’t happen to Elena.
Her mother must’ve been pretty once too. Yolanda was still attractive but haggard and worn-looking. Who wouldn’t be? After her twins were born six years ago, her husband ran back to Puerto Rico. Then her mother ran from Puerto Rico to suffer the last year’s ravages of cancer, living with her daughter. The husband stayed in Puerto Rico, then came back, and then left again. Yolanda never knew when he closed the door if it was for the last time.
Now that Louise saw where Yolanda actually lived, she felt even more compassion for the woman. To live in a dump like this, to have to hold your nose to get past the stench of urine and garbage in the hallway, to practically seal your door against invading armies of roaches, to have so few possessions and all of them faded, bare, mismatched, although clean and comfortable…Yolanda had evidently trained her children well, too. Louise noticed the neat piles of books and crayons on the table, which must serve as dining/cocktail/kitchen table. And desk. Good for her. Louise Sidway was determined to help Yolanda Santiago.
Louise remained where she was, examining the contents of the apartment, trying to figure out what had brought her here. This was a far cry from the great criminologist she had intended to be. When her friends were daydreaming about
Chapter 20
A few young boys hung over the railing on the top floor, looking down on their heads as they climbed up. One of them threw or spit a wad of gum into the stairwell. It just missed Louise’s hair. “ No me joda ,” Louise yelled without looking up. A few giggles overhead assured her she had used the right expression to say “Don’t fuck around with me.” The boys were laughing at the culprit, not at her. At the next landing, she ventured an upward glance, and they stepped back a little. “Hey!” she said loudly and gruffly. It was a greeting.
“Hallo,” only one of them answered. They were probably about ten or eleven years old. Any older, and she’d be petrified they’d have switchblades or ten gang members behind them. They probably did anyway. But they were still young enough to be just a little afraid of her and of their parents. She followed Yolanda Santiago up the last flight, deliberately exaggerating her panting for the boys’ entertainment. They laughed when she pretended to collapse, out of breath. She ruffled two heads as she went by, waiting for Yolanda to unlock her door.
“Elena!” The shrillness of Yolanda’s voice made it a shriek. A girl of about nine came running to kiss her. “Hi, Mommy.”
“Say hello to the lady, Elena. This is Señorita Sidway from the Welfare.” When the girl saw Louise, she swayed slightly, swinging her hands behind her back. “Come on, say hello. Hey, you want her think I don’t teach you no manners?” Elena shyly played with her skirt.
“Hello, Elena.” Louise casually dropped her hand on the girl’s shoulders. “I hear a lot about you, about how you help your mother with the twins and everything. Where’s your brother and sister?”
“They went to the store with Señora Sanchez,” she mumbled behind Yolanda.
“Gee, you’re real pretty.” Louise felt obligated to compliment her.
Elena tilted her head in a little laugh, trying to bury herself in her mother. She was pretty. Her long hair was in a neat ponytail. Pulled straight back, it left a few dark threads at her temples, which trailed loosely along her jawbone. She was so serious. Louise wondered how she would look with that thick hair in a short, stylish cut, bouncing with body. She’d turn into a real beauty. Unless she got pregnant during puberty or ran away from home at thirteen with some pimp. Louise saw girls like Elena, with four kids by the time they were twenty or twenty-two. They might start out trying to be good mothers, but alone, with no money, how could they cope? She hoped that wouldn’t happen to Elena.
Her mother must’ve been pretty once too. Yolanda was still attractive but haggard and worn-looking. Who wouldn’t be? After her twins were born six years ago, her husband ran back to Puerto Rico. Then her mother ran from Puerto Rico to suffer the last year’s ravages of cancer, living with her daughter. The husband stayed in Puerto Rico, then came back, and then left again. Yolanda never knew when he closed the door if it was for the last time.
Now that Louise saw where Yolanda actually lived, she felt even more compassion for the woman. To live in a dump like this, to have to hold your nose to get past the stench of urine and garbage in the hallway, to practically seal your door against invading armies of roaches, to have so few possessions and all of them faded, bare, mismatched, although clean and comfortable…Yolanda had evidently trained her children well, too. Louise noticed the neat piles of books and crayons on the table, which must serve as dining/cocktail/kitchen table. And desk. Good for her. Louise Sidway was determined to help Yolanda Santiago.
Louise remained where she was, examining the contents of the apartment, trying to figure out what had brought her here. This was a far cry from the great criminologist she had intended to be. When her friends were daydreaming about
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