Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around

by Pagán, Camille

  “Gracias,” she said, but after struggling with the lid for a moment she passed it back to me. “Do you mind, mija?”

  “Of course not,” I said, trying, and failing, not to worry about her weak grip. I opened it and passed it back to her. “Anything else I can do for you? If you need something, Milagros, just say the word.”

  “Gracias,” she said again. My throat tightened as she touched my arm. It wasn’t as though she replaced either of my parents, but her hand on my skin gave me the same feeling of security and warmth that I’d always had when I was with my father. “What I need,” she added softly, “is to leave.”

  “Shiloh? Hector?” I said, turning to them. “What do you think? Is it time?”

  They looked at each other, then began speaking at the same time. “Not yet,” said Shiloh as Hector said, “Soon.”

  “Escucha,” said Hector—listen. Then he said nothing, and then the family next to us was quiet, too, and within a few seconds the whole room was nearly silent. Which was when I realized I could hear twittering from beyond the windows. “The birds wouldn’t be singing if this was a hurricane,” he explained after a moment. “The storm has passed.”

  I looked at Shiloh, almost afraid to cheer for fear it was a false alarm. “Maybe so,” he conceded. “But it’s probably a mess out there. There’s no saying if we can get back safely.”

  “If we stay until it’s dark, then we’re here until the morning or longer,” said Hector, nodding pointedly at Milagros. “Milly wants to leave. And to be frank, I do, too. With all these people packed in here and the heat only rising, this doesn’t feel any safer to me.”

  Shiloh looked at me and I nodded. “Then we go,” he said.

  That was when I realized Isa was peering up at me from the tile with alarm.

  “Mommy, are we going to die if we go out there?”

  I swallowed hard. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

  “But you don’t know that,” she insisted.

  “No,” I admitted, my eyes flitting to Charlotte. “But what I do know is that it’s time for us to try.”

  At least outside we could begin to look for a clinic, a pharmacy—something or someone who might be able to help us keep Charlotte’s medication cool or replace it if need be.

  Leaving the shelter was no easy feat, since so many people were just as eager to head home. But the possibility that help awaited elsewhere was enough to keep my spirits afloat as we slogged through the crowd and parking lot. Once we were making our way down the road, however, that hope nose-dived. The corner stores, grocers, and pharmacies we passed were shuttered; many had plywood nailed over their doors. Even pulling up to Milagros’ house and seeing that it was relatively undamaged, at least from the outside, wasn’t enough to lift my mood. Yes, a roof was important—but not as important as insulin.

  “Gracias a Dios!” exclaimed Hector, climbing out of the Jeep. He opened the passenger door and embraced Milagros. “Amor, it’s fine. It’s all fine.”

  Milagros let him help her out of her seat, then put a hand on her heart as she stood on the gravel driveway. “Ay bendito.”

  “What will we eat?” I whispered to Shiloh as we surveyed the house. We had water—we’d filled several large pots before heading to the shelter, knowing that the pressure would slowly dwindle and eventually disappear until the electricity returned. But I only had three more protein bars, which would hardly be enough to get Charlotte through the day, and whatever had been left in the fridge would no longer be edible.

  “We have some canned goods and some dry rice, and if we can figure out how to cook the rice, that should be balanced enough to make sure her blood sugar doesn’t tank,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Charlotte, who was in the kitchen with Isa and Milagros.

  “We still need to figure out how to get out of here,” I said.

  He put his hands on his head. “I’ve been thinking that same thing myself.”

  “Do you think the ferry’s running yet?”

  “Unlikely. But the sky’s clear, so maybe we can get on the first flight out.”

  “Assuming there are flights heading out,” I said.

  “Right. Do you think Charlotte’s medicine will be okay for another day or so?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, and I’m super nervous about that,” I admitted. “The pharmacies aren’t open, so it’s not like we can get more. And even if we did, who’s to say it would be in better shape than what we have here?”

  “The pharmacies might actually have functioning generators, though. I’ll go for a drive, see if anything is open or if I can find out anything more about flying out of here.”

  I didn’t even tell him to be careful. His leaving was a risk I was willing to take if it meant keeping Charlotte healthy. “Okay. Thank you,” I said quietly.

  “Hey.” His forehead was etched with all the worry he’d been working hard to keep out of his voice. “We’re going to get through this.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and asked myself: What would Charlotte Ross do? Then I opened my eyes again, and though I couldn’t quite force my lips into a smile, I made sure my tone matched Shiloh’s. “I know we are,” I said.

  After Shiloh headed out, Milagros and I sat on the front porch, which was marginally cooler than the house, while Hector mopped the floor in the places the roof had leaked. It wasn’t time to check Charlotte’s blood sugar, but I’d been watching her like a hawk, and had asked the girls to come out front with us so I could continue to keep an eye on her.

  We’d just sat down when a gaggle of strays appeared next to the porch, wagging their tails and yipping for Milagros’ attention.

  “My babies! ¿Mida, cuántos son?” Milagros asked me as she tossed the cold cuts, which she’d retrieved from the fridge and were no longer cold, onto the soggy lawn.

  I counted them silently. “Six.”

  “Ay, there should be seven! I hope . . .” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around, presumably to take in what she could.

  “You looking for a little guy?” I asked. A small, fawn-colored dog was peering around a bush with one eye; the other was closed, presumably for good. “Tan, kind of scrappy-looking, half-blind?”

  “Pedro! Mi vida!” Milagros exclaimed, smiling genuinely for the first time since the storm had arrived. She was right—she had needed to come home. “Pedro can’t see so well, just like Old Milly. Pedro!” she hollered, extending her hand.

  The dog came trotting up to her, his tail swinging like a metronome.

  “Can we pet him?” said Charlotte, approaching the porch.

  “Careful!” I warned as Pedro trotted toward her. “He doesn’t know you and might bite.”

  “Pedro wouldn’t hurt a mosquito!” Milagros protested.

  “Right, but he probably hasn’t been vaccinated,” I said, glancing at his matted fur.

  “He has,” she said, patting his head. “I had a vet come to my place last winter to take care of them. Couldn’t get Coco or Bene to cooperate, so maybe don’t pet the little black one or the brown one with spots,” she said to the girls, who were both at the foot of the stairs.

  “As you may have gathered, I’m not really a dog person,” I told Milagros, grimacing as Charlotte bent before Pedro and put her hand out. He sniffed it, then stuck his head under it to get her to pet him, making her giggle.

  “Everyone’s a dog person,” said Milagros. Now a mangy-looking brown Lab had joined us on the porch and was rubbing against her legs. Its backside was entirely too close to my face. “You just haven’t met the right dog yet.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, because at least Charlotte and Isa, who was now running her hand down Pedro’s filthy back, were starting to shake the stressed-out vibe they’d had since the storm hit.

  “Pet him, Mom!” demanded Isa, looking up at me.

  “Do I have to?” I said, and for some reason, this got a laugh out of them. I sighed and rose from my chair. “Fine.” After I was down the stairs, I knelt in front of Ped
ro. “Hey there, fleabag,” I muttered under my breath.

  Pedro cocked his head and eyed me. Then he lunged.

  I was about to scream—my cheek was wet, so surely I was oozing blood—when I realized that I hadn’t felt the sting of his teeth. I pulled my head back and examined him. “Did you just . . . lick me?”

  He wagged his tail in response.

  “Naughty dog,” I said, but I couldn’t help but smile.

  The girls were laughing. “See? You’re so paranoid, Mom,” said Isa.

  I was tempted to remind her that I wasn’t the one who’d sworn off the ocean because of a freak jellyfish incident. “It’s all fun and games until you get rabies,” I said, but then I remembered, yet again, that there was no hospital to go to if Pedro changed his mind and decided to have my face for dinner.

  “Pedro doesn’t have rabies,” said Charlotte, scratching the mutt’s ears. She looked up at me with bright eyes. “Mom, can we get a dog when we get home?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation, even though I’d said no each of the four thousand and three times she and Isa had asked me in the past. If all went well, I’d live to regret my impulsivity. But as I resisted the urge to check my phone, which was nearly out of batteries, to see how long Shiloh had been gone, I would have promised them a baby llama if it meant we’d make it off the island without another catastrophe.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The sun was just starting to set when Shiloh returned. I could tell from his posture that the news wasn’t good.

  “Ferry’s down,” he said, leaping over a puddle in the driveway to come to where I’d been waiting on the porch. Hector was inside, attempting to cobble together dinner, while the girls were on the patio, clearing debris under Milagros’ supervision. “The dock was damaged, and no one seems to know what’s going on. There’s no one at the airport, either.”

  “No one?” I said, incredulous.

  He shook his head. “Not a single person.”

  “Pharmacies? Health clinics?”

  He met my eyes but didn’t respond.

  “Crap,” I said.

  “I know. And the gas stations are closed, too.”

  I was staring at him, but for a few seconds it wasn’t him I was seeing at all. Instead, Charlotte was in my arms, just as she’d been a few days ago at the hotel in San Juan. Only this time my attempts to save her weren’t working. “What are we going to do?” I said, my voice cracking.

  He looked away for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he said.

  This was not what I had been hoping to hear. After all, the man had once calmly landed an engine-damaged plane like it was an everyday event!

  But then I realized that however harrowing that had been, our current situation was far more complicated. And if I was being honest with myself—and admittedly, I was mostly trying not to be—I was mostly upset because I was expecting Shiloh to play the role my father had always played. He’d been like a magician, always distracting then amazing us without ever showing us how very hard he worked to pull it all off.

  He pushed at the gravel with the tip of his shoe. “I know this is scary,” he said quietly. “But something you taught me, Libby, is that when you believe the best, you’re a lot more likely to do what it takes to make the best happen.”

  The evening was surprisingly beautiful, considering the sky had been black just hours earlier, and I squinted at him in the low, golden light. Even if I knew where to find this shiny version of me he was referring to, her wishful thinking would not have done a darn thing to fix our situation.

  “There’s got to be something we haven’t thought of yet,” he added.

  Such as attempting to swim to the mainland? Or perhaps we should make a giant sign on the beach—Save Our Stupidity!—and pray someone would fly over and rescue us.

  Then it hit me.

  “The waves are still pretty low, right?” I said, shielding my eyes as I glanced past him at the strip of ocean visible over the fence.

  He nodded.

  “You think it’ll stay that way until tomorrow?”

  “Maybe . . . why?”

  “Someone on this island has to have a boat that we can borrow. Let’s go ask Milagros and Hector.”

  He put his arm around my shoulders. “I like the way you think.”

  “I’m glad,” I said, because at least things between us were starting to feel normal again. Maybe they’d even continue on that path, and we’d never have to discuss the secret phone call he’d gotten.

  As we opened the gate, I saw that the girls were on the patio on either side of Milagros, under a tree whose branches had once been host to at least half a dozen orchids. Now only one bright yellow blossom with fuchsia streaks in its center remained. But the girls were talking animatedly as Milagros listened on. I’d just started to smile about the three of them getting along so well when I realized the girls were actually arguing over Milagros’ head.

  “I get to name the dog,” Isa was saying.

  “No, I do,” insisted Charlotte. “Mom told me we could get one. So I get dibs.”

  “Do not!”

  Before I could interject, Milagros clapped her hands together. “Niñas! Let me tell you about the first time I got a dog. It was a tiny little puppy named Lola, and I kept her in a dresser drawer . . .”

  “Wait,” I whispered, holding an arm out to Shiloh, who’d just taken a step toward them.

  We stood at the gate, listening to Milagros tell them a story about her first dog, who apparently had a thing about doing its business in her parents’ bed. By the time she was done, the girls were rolling with laughter.

  “We have to name our dog Lola!” said Isa.

  “Just so we can watch it poop in Mom and Papi’s bed!” said Charlotte, still cackling. “Milagros, we’ll send you pictures. Do you know how to text?”

  “Hi, you guys,” I announced. “For the record, no dogs will be pooping in my bed.”

  “Bienvenidos!” called Milagros, but I noticed that she didn’t hop up like she usually did. “Hector is just finishing dinner for us.”

  Just then, Hector emerged from the house, a large pot in one hand, a flashlight in the other. “It’s going to be dark soon,” he explained, setting the flashlight on the tile. “I’ll be back in a moment with everything else.”

  I looked at Charlotte. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s time to test your blood sugar, okay? The kit is inside.” We’d moved our stuff back into the guesthouse after confirming that it hadn’t been damaged. In fact, thanks to Hector’s repairs, the roof hadn’t leaked.

  “I’ll go get it. Isa, come with?” She hesitated. “It’s dark in there.”

  Isa looked at her like she was going to say no. But then she grabbed the flashlight and sighed. “Fine.”

  At least they were finally getting along. “Just come back with your meter so I can see the numbers,” I said.

  Hector returned with plates, glasses, and a bottle of rum, which he poured into each glass and handed to us.

  “Salud,” said Milagros. “To being home.”

  To going home, I thought to myself a bit guiltily as I lifted my glass. “Salud.”

  “Hector, Milagros, Libby and I were just talking,” said Shiloh. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, then continued. “If the power stays off—and I see no sign that it’s going to come back anytime soon—it’s not safe for us to be here.”

  “Claro,” said Milagros. “As much as I wish you could stay, the four of you should leave as soon as you can.”

  “Oh no, Milagros,” I said quickly. “We’re not leaving you here without electricity and all the clinics closed.”

  “Eh, this is my home. I have Hector, and who needs electricity? I didn’t have a television until I was twenty years old, mija, and didn’t I make it through Maria?”

  Sure—but I could still remember the days, then weeks, following the storm as Shiloh and I frantically tried to get hold of her, to no avail. Back then I’d been a heck of a lot more
optimistic than I was now, and yet it had still been torture to wait—and wait—to hear if she had survived. I was not about to leave Milagros here and twiddle my thumbs until the electricity was turned back on.

  Shiloh, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, shook his head. “I don’t know, Milagros, that doesn’t sound safe to me. There’s no saying how long this could go on. But yes, we do need to leave—Libby and I are really worried about Charlotte’s diabetes supplies. They’ll go bad if they stay warm too long, and if she’s without insulin . . .”

  She could die.

  Shiloh, who couldn’t make himself finish the rest, turned to Hector. “Do you know anyone who has a boat? Libby and I were thinking that might be the best way off the island. Maybe even the only way,” he added. “I know we’ll need to wait until tomorrow, since it’s late, but . . .”

  Hector reached for Milagros’ hand and gave her a tight smile. I was wondering why when he said, “I know someone with a boat, but I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to borrow it.”

  Shiloh sat up straight. “You think he’d let us if he knew about Charlotte?”

  Hector grunted a laugh. “She’s Flor—my ex-wife. And she’s mad as a hornet’s nest about me and Milagros.” He sighed heavily. “Mira, even if she says yes, that crossing can be rough—and after a storm there’s no telling how the water will be. It could be dangerous.”

  I could feel adrenaline coursing through my veins as I pulled my phone out of my pocket—as if it would miraculously turn on and I could call for help, and we wouldn’t have to rely on the mercy of Hector’s ex to get us out of here.

  The black screen was a potent reminder that we really had exhausted all of our avenues. “That boat is our only hope,” I said to Hector.

  He nodded with what seemed to be a mix of resolve and resignation. “Then first thing tomorrow, we go see Flor,” he said.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The four of us went to bed soon after the sun went down. Except my exhaustion was no match for my anxiety-addled brain; I tossed and turned, but sleep was all but impossible. And every time I opened my eyes, Shiloh, barely visible in the pale moonlight, was either sitting up in bed or staring at the ceiling beside me.