If I told her now, she could handle things and Mom would never know. My mother sits at the table talking with the tow truck guy. I study her eyes to see if anything is the matter, but she seems to be enjoying the conversation. When my father left she cried, and when Tomas was arrested she did not eat for five days.

No, I say.

I start towards the door, but my aunt does not move.

Are you sure?

I nod.

She puts a hand out, catching my chest and blocking me. Her fingers are thin—almost bony—and through my shirt I can feel her sharp, manicured nails.

What’s happened to you, Gabrielito? she says. I thought you’d put all that nonsense with your brother behind you. You seemed to be changing so much for the better.

I shrug.

I’m really disappointed, you know.

Maybe she is waiting for a reaction, but she does not get one. Her lips are hard and pressed and her gaze fixes steadily on me.

She sighs, then opens the inner glass door. All right then, she says coldly. Go inside.

The indifference of her voice surprises me, but I enter and start towards the booth. Mom’s back is to me but the tow truck man’s eyes widen, as if concerned that I have been scolded to an unfair degree. His face appears all sympathy.

Mom turns and, in her excitement to stand, knocks over a glass of water. An awkward moment elapses as she senses the man’s impulse to reach over and upright it. Then—no doubt remembering that she is a maid—he sits back down. My mother looks flustered as water begins sliding off the table. She fumbles to pry some napkins from the dispenser and tosses them on the mess. Stone blushes as he watches.

Mom’s fingers tremble—she wants to turn to me—and finally she stops the flow and steps into the aisle.

She tries to hug me, but seeing Stone’s confused face over her shoulder, I stand stiffly.

She seems to feel this and her body hardens, pulling back. As her coarse black hair pulls away from my face I smell her scent, the same shampoo she has always used, and her favorite makeup.

Hi, I say.

Withdrawn now, she acknowledges my name simply and coolly and begins to sit again, but suddenly rushes back to me and pinches my cheek and grabs my ears. I blush.

No questions, she says. Okay?

She must be afraid that I will bolt off and run away again. I nod quickly, and she senses my desire for her to sit, and we do.