The Grief Keeper

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The Grief Keeper Page 13

by Alexandra Villasante

I don’t even get the chance to close the door behind them before Gabi smacks me on the shoulder.

  “Why did you say we didn’t want to go?”

  “Because I don’t want to go.” I know I’m being unfair. There’s no reason Gabi can’t go with Olga and Manny, except that I want her here with me. I move to get past her, but she blocks me.

  “But I do! I’m bored, Sol.”

  I try to sneak under her arm, but she pushes me away. “Watch TV.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Read a book,” I say between clenched teeth.

  “I want to have fun!” She stomps her foot.

  I try not to lose my temper with Gabi. I remember what it felt like when Papá would lose his temper after a bad night of playing cards. He’d prowl around the room like a tiger, looking for someone to yell at or someone to hit. I’d look at Pablo, to make sure he was okay. He would be looking back at me. We’re okay, the look would say.

  “¡Púchica, Gabi! Look at where you are! This whole place is made for having fun. You’re becoming a spoiled brat.”

  Gabi’s face is shocked, and mine must look the same, because I didn’t mean to yell at her.

  “Is this a family thing I shouldn’t be hearing? I can cover my ears.”

  Gabi and I turn around. Rey stands at the door wearing a pair of loose pants that hang low on her hips and a gray shirt that says WORLD’S OKAYEST SISTER.

  I’m so surprised, I’m speechless.

  “If you’re bored, why don’t you come hang out with me?” She looks different, almost unrecognizable. Her face is luminous, like the reflecting pool when it captures the sky. She looks happy, I think.

  My head hurts, and I don’t want to go anywhere.

  But I don’t know how to say no to that happy face.

  Rey leads us to the main house through the gardens. Gabi chats with her, using her arms to act out the robot vacuum commercial again. I hang back a little, trying to think. Rey seems so different tonight. Her smile is alive and when Gabi zooms in circles around her, Rey’s laugh is pure sunshine. Maybe the cuff is starting to work.

  Rey looks back at me, eyebrows raised, and winks. Luckily, it’s starting to get dark, because I don’t want her to see my reddening face.

  “First, we raid the kitchen,” she says once we’re in the main house. “Put out your arms, Gabi. No, bigger, like a big basket.” Rey pulls bags of potato chips and pretzels out of the cabinets and puts them into Gabi’s arms until there’s no more she can carry.

  “Next!”

  I hold out my arms and she gently bends them at the elbow, like I’m a doll. “Like una canasta,” she says.

  “You speak Spanish?” I ask, surprised.

  Rey grabs bags of snacks from a drawer and piles them into my arms. “Nah. I took German. Mostly to piss off my dad, who wanted me to take Mandarin.”

  “So how did you know how to say basket?”

  “I’ve been googling some things,” she says mysteriously.

  This Rey is so different. She isn’t the hurt animal I saw yesterday, and she isn’t the “zombie” I saw the day before.

  “Did Dr. V give you another medicine?” I ask.

  “Nope. High on life.” She grins. She grabs the soda and some plastic cups, then we follow her through the house until I’m a little lost.

  “This is the TV room,” she says.

  It’s not a TV room; it’s a room full of TVs. There are screens on a desk in the corner and a gigantic TV on the wall, the same size as the screen in our local movie theater. On either side of the enormous white couch are tables with more screens.

  “Why do you need so many TVs?” I ask as I drop the snacks onto the side table. Rey snatches up a bag of Doritos, squeezing it until it pops open.

  “We don’t need them. No one even uses this room anymore. My dad used to have business meetings here sometimes. Whenever they were working on a new drug that seemed like it might be a moneymaker, Dad would bring backers here to impress them.”

  “TVs impress them?” Gabi says.

  “Some people, right?” Rey points to a door at the back of the room. “There’s an honest-to-Christ projection room in there for 35mm film. When we were little, Dad would get Disney to send him movies before they hit the theaters. Then we got a digital projector.” She sits in the corner of the couch and pats the place next to her, an invitation to sit. Gabi’s waiting for me to sit first. And my legs are glued to the floor.

  “Then Mom split and family movie night died a gruesome death. Now we have Netflix.” Rey places the bag of Doritos on her lap before looking at us with raised eyebrows. “Guys, those snacks won’t eat themselves.”

  Gabi takes a bag of popcorn and sits next to Rey. I pour everyone a cup of orange soda, like I am the host, and sit next to Gabi. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I spent hours alone with Rey watching TV. Now that Gabi is here, I should be more comfortable. Still, I look anywhere else but at Rey.

  “What should we watch?” Rey asks.

  “Cedar Hollow?” I say.

  “Ugh, not again with that show!” Gabi moans.

  “Not a fan of Amber and Aimee? I’m insulted,” Rey says.

  “It’s only that Sol watches that over and over and over, and it’s so boring sometimes.”

  Rey looks over Gabi’s head to me. “Aimee, I thought you said your sister was cool.”

  “I thought so, Amber.” I shake my head sadly. “I guess she’s not.”

  Gabi rolls her eyes. “Son bayuncas, you know?”

  Rey’s eyes are full of laughter. I thought they were brown, but now I think they might be a very dark blue. I can’t look away fast enough.

  “Is your sister calling me a vegetable?”

  “She’s calling you silly.”

  “I’m calling both of you silly. And weirdos.”

  Rey settles back into the couch. It’s such a bright, clean white, and Rey is leaving orange dust from the Doritos on the armrest. I cringe, thinking of Olga’s face when she sees it.

  “Well, despite your lack of taste, Gabi, we won’t subject you to the masterpiece that is Cedar Hollow. No DVD player on this TV. And since it’s Canadian, you can’t legally stream it in the States.”

  I sit up very straight, stunned. “It’s Canadian?”

  “Yeah, of course. You couldn’t tell from the accents and the goofy clothes?”

  Rey doesn’t wait for my answer, which is good because I don’t know how to answer. Cedar Hollow was how I learned about America. And it wasn’t even American.

  Rey clicks the remote, jumping from image to image until she lands on a picture of three men in front of an exploding car.

  “WAIT!” Gabi shrieks. “That’s the car guys!”

  I don’t know what that means, but Gabi is nearly jumping off the sofa, she’s so excited. Rey selects the TV show, and we are soon watching three old men race in cars and sometimes crash them.

  I’m happy Gabi is having a great time, but I’m so aware of Rey’s every move and every smile that I barely notice when the show is over. The next episode starts a few seconds later. Gabi leans against me, like she used to, and I am calm.

  * * *

  “Do we wake her up? She’s way too heavy to carry, right?” Rey says.

  Gabi is asleep, her head tilted back on the couch and her mouth open.

  “She probably weighs as much as you do. I can’t carry her anymore.”

  “Are you calling me fat?”

  “I’m not calling you anything. Don’t say things for me.”

  Rey bounces her head softly against the back of the sofa. “You mean, don’t put words in your mouth?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  “You’re right. I’d much rather hear your own words.” She smiles.

  Está jugando, I think. She’s
playing. “You are so different now that you have the cuff on.”

  “I’m not different,” Rey says sharply. “This is what I’m always like.”

  “Oh. Good. And you feel okay?”

  “Yeah. Feel fine. Awesome.”

  Her eyes close, and the half smile on her lips relaxes. Maybe she’ll fall asleep too, and I’ll have to leave them both here, or I’ll get some blankets and sleep here too. It’s a nice idea, the three of us sleeping on this soft, wide sofa. But I know Manny and Olga would be worried if they couldn’t find us.

  “We should go.” I reach over to Gabi to shake her awake. Rey grabs my hand, startling me.

  “Wait. Not yet. Um. I had a question.” She lets my hand drop.

  I sit back, waiting. But she doesn’t speak.

  “What’s your question?”

  She licks her lips. It makes me nervous, thinking that her question might be one I don’t want to answer.

  “Um. What does que onda mean?”

  I frown. “It’s like ‘what’s up.’”

  “Yeah, that’s what Google said. I wasn’t sure, though. It also said that onda means wave. Google is sometimes shit at translations.”

  “No, that is correct—it means both things. It’s an . . .” I search for the English word, but I don’t find it. “It’s like a saying, like when you say you are on your high horse, but you aren’t on a horse at all.” I close my mouth, feeling like I’m saying nonsense.

  The shine in Rey’s eyes becomes glassy, like she was the first day, staring off at I don’t know what. Maybe it just takes time for the cuff to work properly.

  “I’m glad the cuff is working,” I say to fill the awkward silence.

  “Oh, yeah,” she drawls. “It’s for sure working. I just, I’m just really tired now.” She leans back into the sofa, staring at the frozen image of the three men and the exploding car.

  I wake Gabi up, and just like when she’d fall asleep in the back of a coyote’s truck, she wakes up completely knowing where she is, as if she were only resting her eyes.

  “Did the BMW win?”

  “I think so,” Rey says dreamily. “The BMW is the one with the four wheels, right?”

  Gabi starts to explain, in exhausting detail, what kind of car she’s talking about. Before she can put Rey totally to sleep, I tell her to help me clean up.

  “Leave it,” Rey says. “The maids will do it.”

  Gabi and I exchange a look. It’s not my business, but I can’t help asking, “Who are these maids?”

  Rey’s face creases into a look of total confusion. “I don’t know their names. They usually come when I’m not here.” She closes her eyes, slipping into sleep. Gabi helps me pick up the snacks and cups and take them to the kitchen.

  Gabi and I walk across the garden back to the carriage house.

  “I like Rey.” Gabi says it like it’s a challenge.

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t you like her?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Not now. I’m angrier than I should be. If Rey doesn’t remember the maids who invisibly work for her, why should that bother me? I will be happy—I will make myself be happy. The experiment is finally starting to work, and that means we are only a month away from being safe. Nothing is more important.

  Chapter 16

  Indranie pulls up the leg of my piyamas. “It’s on right. And Dr. Deng says it’s transmitting fine. I don’t understand.” She frowns at me. I woke up with the same headache I had last night. Other than that, I feel fine. And that is what’s making Indranie frown. I’m not having any of the symptoms I am supposed to have.

  “But Rey is feeling better,” I say. “That proves the cuff is working.”

  “How do you know how Rey is feeling?”

  I lower my gaze. “I saw her last night. She came over to meet Gabi.”

  Indranie sighs heavily. It’s Saturday, but she’s still wearing a suit. Either she’s been wearing the same suit every day I’ve seen her, or she has lots of suits in the same gray color.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to see her anymore, Marisol.”

  “That’s fine.” I’m still angry at Rey, but for no good reason. If I’m honest, I’m upset that she didn’t know the names of the maids who clean her house. When all this is over, she’ll forget my name too, barely remembering the girl who cleaned up her sorrow.

  “Have you and Gabi got any plans today?”

  “Gabi’s going over to a friend’s house. A girl from school.”

  “That’s great! What about you?”

  I haven’t thought about it. “Maybe I’ll swim. Or read.”

  “That sounds like a perfect day to me.” She stands, straightening her suit jacket. “I have to run over to Dr. Deng’s lab for some data, but I’ll be back tonight.”

  “Won’t your boss be upset that you’re spending so much time with us?” Now I’m like Gabi, asking questions that are not my business. But it’s strange how Indranie is always here.

  She gives me a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m helping Scott—Mr. Warner. I need to be where you and Rey are.”

  “But it’s personal, right, not work?” I remember Rey saying, That woman tries too damn hard. Even though Indranie doesn’t seem to sleep here, she’s here early and stays late. That sounds personal to me.

  “I should go. No rest for the wicked,” she says, but she doesn’t leave.

  Idiom. That’s the word I was trying to think of last night. “No rest for the wicked” es un dicho—it doesn’t mean that Indranie is not resting or wicked. I wish I’d remembered idiom before I told Rey about a person on a high horse.

  “You look deep in thought. You okay?” Indranie asks.

  “Why does Dr. V call you Agent Patel?” If I’m asking questions, I might as well keep going.

  “Oh. Well, that was my unofficial title when I was with USCIS. Dr. V uses it as kind of a joke. I’m not at Homeland Security anymore.”

  “What’s U-S-C-I-S?” I ask, saying the letters carefully.

  “United States Citizenship and Immigration Services. We processed asylum cases.”

  “You gave people asylum? Like what Gabi and I want? That’s what you used to do?”

  “No, actually, I was an analyst. I helped the asylum officers with research.”

  “But you don’t work there anymore?”

  “No.”

  “If you don’t work there anymore, how can you help us?”

  Indranie sits back down on the bed. “I don’t want you to worry about that. I have a lot of friends at USCIS, and I know how the system works. I can get you and Gabi asylum status.” She sounds convincing, one hundred percent sure of herself.

  Sometimes, coyotes would tell people that the trip to the United States would take two or three days. That it would be like a pleasant bus ride. That they would stop at hotels and sleep in clean, warm beds. But this was only a story to convince people to pay the money, to take the chance. Tía Rosa told us the truth. She didn’t want us to be fooled. She’d talked to the people who had been on the journey before, the ones who had made it all the way to Mexico, or maybe even just miles from the US border, before getting caught and sent back. But the ones who hadn’t heard the stories, or didn’t want to believe them, got a nasty surprise on the seventh, eighth day on the road. On the ten-mile walk through the selva to avoid checkpoints. Those people were crédulos. They let their hope get the best of their judgment. If they were very unlucky, their misguided belief would lead to death. Too much belief is a dangerous thing. I don’t know if Indranie is una crédula, or if I am, for trusting her. I only know that whatever I am told, my path is the same.

  * * *

  Finally, after drinking a strong cafecito that Olga makes for me, my headache eases.

  I’m lazy today but also uncomfortable, like there is an
itch I can’t reach. Manny drove Gabi to Juliette’s house and I miss her.

  I sit at the desk in our bedroom with a copy of Frankenstein and a sheet of paper. In Mr. Rosen’s library, I would take five or more books at a time, laying them on the floor. I liked to open the same books in English and in Spanish and work out how they were translated differently, making notes when I found something funny or unusual. Mr. Rosen would ask me if I was done ransacking the place, but he was only teasing me.

  I push away the thought of the Rosens, of how much we owe them and how we won’t ever see them again. I try to compare Frankenstein in English to how I remember it in Spanish. But I can’t concentrate.

  “Hey.”

  I turn to see Rey in the doorway. That’s the second time she’s appeared unexpectedly, the second time that I have to wonder which Rey is standing in front of me. She’s wearing a puffy pink dress, like for a quinceañera, but it hangs on her, a little too large. Her legs are white as chalk beneath her dress, and her slouchy boots are wide enough to cover the cuff on her ankle. On her head is a sparkly flower headband, like una corona.

  “Hello,” I answer coolly.

  “Where’s Gabi?”

  “She’s out with a friend.”

  “She asked me about haircuts. I downloaded some cute pics from Short Hair Style Guide.” Rey holds out her phone to show me the images, but I turn back to my book.

  “Gabi will be home in a few hours. You can show her then.”

  She hovers at the door. “Are you pissed at me?”

  “No. Of course not. Why should I be?” I don’t see any advantage to being honest.

  “I don’t really remember too much about last night. I was so tired. I sort of zonked out, you know?”

  “I saw.”

  “Did I say something rude? I do that sometimes. I’m sorry if I did.” She sounds genuinely sorry.

  I hesitate. It’s not even something I should care about. It’s only that she was thoughtless, and why should that matter to me? “No, you were fine. Everything is fine.”

  She smiles hugely and holds up a set of keys. “Does that mean you’ll go for a drive with me?”

 

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