Papa, remember when I was little and would wake up crying, thinking I had heard Galipòt at our front door? You would whisper, “Cécé, many things like Galipòt exist only in the streams of our dreams. They cannot hurt us.” I want to say the same to you now, Papa. Five years of absence cannot hurt us. Besides, we are no longer a three-legged horse. We have now found our fourth and it is you.

Your daughter, Celiane

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 19

This morning, while driving me to school, Papa thanked me for my letter. His eyes were moist as he asked me what I thought he should do about Moy.

“I think you should talk to him,” I said.

“I will try,” he said. “For you.”

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 20

After the threats from the landlord to throw them out or call the authorities, Immacula’s mother is now sleeping at home with her daughters a few times a week. Immacula looks as though a huge burden has been lifted from her shoulders. Even though she still only wears black clothes, she smiles more often now.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 21

After supper tonight, Papa had Manman call Moy to ask him to come over so the two of them could talk. I think this was the happiest telephone call Manman has made since talking to Papa from the Teleco in Léogâne.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22

Moy came over and had supper with us. After a very long and heavy silence, Papa finally asked him how he was.

Moy said he was fine. He had found a job at a laundromat and had gone back to his classes at Saint Jerome’s, since he realized he needed to speak English better in order to communicate with the customers.

Papa advised Moy to save his money, not to waste his pay.

Papa said one way Moy could save money was to come back to live with us. After all, we were going to move upstairs next month and have an extra room.

Moy thought about this for a while, then said, “I didn’t like it when you told me you were going to send me back to Haiti. You leave me behind, then you send for me, then you threaten to send me back again. I am not a package. I am your son. I am a man. I had to do all the things you used to do in Beau Jour after you left. I had to step in and take your place. I am a man.”

Papa said nothing for a while. He was sitting there quietly, thinking about what Moy had said.

“Okay, so you are a man,” he finally spoke up. “But you will find that it’s not so easy being a man.”

“It has not been so easy being a boy, either,” Moy said.