Moy appeared to enjoy answering the questions the most because he was finally getting to speak to Papa, face-to-face, man to man. I feel as though I can see inside Moy’s head. There must be something in him that feels complete now, just like something in me feels whole, like a piece of me that’s been missing for five years has finally been found.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23

It’s another cold day, but we decided to be brave and go out because Papa was going to take us shopping.

We took a bus near our house to Flatbush Avenue, which gave us a chance to see more of Brooklyn without being too cold. I kept my face glued to the window, watching the streets go by: more row houses, lines of detached ones, too, and then clusters of giant buildings that could house most of Port-au-Prince.

Moy pointed out the parks, which were empty, the trees bared by the cold. None of Granmè Melina and Granpè Nozial’s mango, almond, and avocado trees would survive here in the cold.

Manman called our attention to churches, beauty parlors, and restaurants, all of them bigger than any buildings I had ever seen in Port-au-Prince. I could tell that these buildings amazed her, too, by their size and matching constructions, by the fact that there appeared to be so few people in them, compared to how crowded they would have been in Port-au-Prince.

Moy said the names of the mechanics’ shops and gas stations out loud as Papa corrected his pronunciation in English. The signs here were not as colorful as the ones that Bòs Dezi made or as brightly embellished as the ones in Carrefour, but some were written in lights, which impressed Moy nonetheless.

I wish Thérèse could see all of this. She would be so amazed. Since she has spent even less time in Port-au-Prince than I have, Brooklyn would have been all the more startling to her.

Looking around, I kept thinking the same thing I did the first time I went to Port-au-Prince with Manman. How can some people live in a small village in the mountains with only lamps for illumination at night and others live in a city where every street corner has its own giant lamp? It made the world seem unbalanced somehow.

Flatbush Avenue was so crowded we almost had to walk in the middle of the street. The street felt like a city unto itself, like the market in downtown Port-au-Prince, where every step brings you face-to-face with someone else.

Flatbush Avenue was a kind of market, too, except the vendors were inside and not out on the street. The stores were decorated with Christmas lights and people seemed to be buying everything off the shelves.