connection, his mouth never slowing. “We don’t need no yeast, we will pull bacteria from the air to ferment. Is why mezcal is más puro. ”
A tinny melody shattered the atmosphere, filling the canvas tent. A familiar diva voice sang, At first I was afraid, I was petrified !
A musical hiccup and then again: At first I was afraid, I was petrified !
Neto finally stopped, as frozen as the burro: “Is that…?”
Eve said, “Gloria Gaynor?”
Jay sheepishly removed from his pocket a sleek phone with a fat folding antenna.
Will pointed. “Contraband!”
Neto frowned disapprovingly at the phone.
Jay said, “Sorry. I day-trade, and I told my broker to text me if we hit any limit orders.”
“Any way I can borrow it to make a quick call home?” Eve asked. “I haven’t connected with my son, and Skype’s out.”
Neto redirected his look of disappointment at Eve. Then he said, “I will have the dish looked at for you by one of the peons.”
The term, Eve gleaned, was not derogatory here.
“Feel free to pass on the number in case he needs to reach you.” Jay flipped her the satellite phone, then shot Neto a wry glance. “Not that I’ll ever have it on me.”
Eve retreated to the cantina, choosing a picnic table in the shade. To her side, two so-called peons scrubbed at oxidized patches on the cladding that protected the stove, the shushing of wire brushes against aluminum oddly soothing. Despite the phone’s impressive antenna, the reception bars flickered in and out as she dialed.
A few rings and then a cheerful feminine voice: “Hardaway residence, substitute matriarch speaking.”
“Lanie.”
“Mizz Hardaway.”
“See the number on caller ID?”
“Registered and recorded.”
“How is he?”
“Aside from the F he’s gonna get on his summer-reading book report?”
“An F ? Why?”
“He did a report on the book, ” Lanie said.
“Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?”
“Oh, no. Permit me to read.” Rustling pages. “Here we go.” Lanie cleared her throat theatrically. “‘This book is forty-three pages long. It costed three dollars and ninety-nine cents plus tax. It is filled with chapters and words, except for inside the front and back covers. Those parts are blank. It is a half inch thick and weighs—’”
“Put him on,” Eve said.
“Hold, please.” Then: “Brainiac! It’s your mom.”
Scampering footsteps. “Mom? Hi, Mom!”
His exuberance softened her instantly. She had been warned that in a few years her son would be pathologically unappreciative, that he’d prefer hard labor to spending time with her, but he was still such a baby at times, and she missed the crackle of his voice, the dimples of his knuckles, the way his head smelled when she lay next to him at night.
“Are you in the jungle?” Nicolas asked. “Is it fun? Are there velociraptors?”
“No velociraptors. What’s with this book report?”
The line fuzzed, and for a moment she thought the call had dropped.
Then he said, “I thought it’d be funny.”
“But Lanie didn’t think it was funny.”
“… No.”
“Do it over.”
“It’s Saturday. And it’s summer. ”
“I’m aware of that.”
“If I do it, can I please —” His last words dropped out.
“What? Nicolas? You there?”
The connection came back on, picking him up—of course—mid-request: “—I please sleep over at Zach’s?”
“You want a reward for undoing F work?”
“No.” A beat. “For working on a Saturday.”
“I told you, Little. Not with me gone. I can’t risk—”
“The food. Fine, Big.” Pouty silence.
“What are you doing today?” Eve asked.
“Besides not sleeping over at Zach’s?”
“Besides not sleeping over at Zach’s.”
“Drawing,” he said.
“What are you drawing?”
A beat of pride found its way into his voice. “The outer reaches of the universe.”
Eve grinned, amused. “Some people say they don’t know what that looks like.”
“Well,” Nicolas
A tinny melody shattered the atmosphere, filling the canvas tent. A familiar diva voice sang, At first I was afraid, I was petrified !
A musical hiccup and then again: At first I was afraid, I was petrified !
Neto finally stopped, as frozen as the burro: “Is that…?”
Eve said, “Gloria Gaynor?”
Jay sheepishly removed from his pocket a sleek phone with a fat folding antenna.
Will pointed. “Contraband!”
Neto frowned disapprovingly at the phone.
Jay said, “Sorry. I day-trade, and I told my broker to text me if we hit any limit orders.”
“Any way I can borrow it to make a quick call home?” Eve asked. “I haven’t connected with my son, and Skype’s out.”
Neto redirected his look of disappointment at Eve. Then he said, “I will have the dish looked at for you by one of the peons.”
The term, Eve gleaned, was not derogatory here.
“Feel free to pass on the number in case he needs to reach you.” Jay flipped her the satellite phone, then shot Neto a wry glance. “Not that I’ll ever have it on me.”
Eve retreated to the cantina, choosing a picnic table in the shade. To her side, two so-called peons scrubbed at oxidized patches on the cladding that protected the stove, the shushing of wire brushes against aluminum oddly soothing. Despite the phone’s impressive antenna, the reception bars flickered in and out as she dialed.
A few rings and then a cheerful feminine voice: “Hardaway residence, substitute matriarch speaking.”
“Lanie.”
“Mizz Hardaway.”
“See the number on caller ID?”
“Registered and recorded.”
“How is he?”
“Aside from the F he’s gonna get on his summer-reading book report?”
“An F ? Why?”
“He did a report on the book, ” Lanie said.
“Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?”
“Oh, no. Permit me to read.” Rustling pages. “Here we go.” Lanie cleared her throat theatrically. “‘This book is forty-three pages long. It costed three dollars and ninety-nine cents plus tax. It is filled with chapters and words, except for inside the front and back covers. Those parts are blank. It is a half inch thick and weighs—’”
“Put him on,” Eve said.
“Hold, please.” Then: “Brainiac! It’s your mom.”
Scampering footsteps. “Mom? Hi, Mom!”
His exuberance softened her instantly. She had been warned that in a few years her son would be pathologically unappreciative, that he’d prefer hard labor to spending time with her, but he was still such a baby at times, and she missed the crackle of his voice, the dimples of his knuckles, the way his head smelled when she lay next to him at night.
“Are you in the jungle?” Nicolas asked. “Is it fun? Are there velociraptors?”
“No velociraptors. What’s with this book report?”
The line fuzzed, and for a moment she thought the call had dropped.
Then he said, “I thought it’d be funny.”
“But Lanie didn’t think it was funny.”
“… No.”
“Do it over.”
“It’s Saturday. And it’s summer. ”
“I’m aware of that.”
“If I do it, can I please —” His last words dropped out.
“What? Nicolas? You there?”
The connection came back on, picking him up—of course—mid-request: “—I please sleep over at Zach’s?”
“You want a reward for undoing F work?”
“No.” A beat. “For working on a Saturday.”
“I told you, Little. Not with me gone. I can’t risk—”
“The food. Fine, Big.” Pouty silence.
“What are you doing today?” Eve asked.
“Besides not sleeping over at Zach’s?”
“Besides not sleeping over at Zach’s.”
“Drawing,” he said.
“What are you drawing?”
A beat of pride found its way into his voice. “The outer reaches of the universe.”
Eve grinned, amused. “Some people say they don’t know what that looks like.”
“Well,” Nicolas
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