I must have been working at Friday’s about a year and a half when this happened. A weekday, an average day. I was waiting on a gringo couple. They must have been over sixty years old and seemed to be married. They were very friendly and talkative, and at a certain moment the husband got up and asked me where the bathroom was. I told him I’d show him, and as we walked through the restaurant’s dining room, he took me by the hand. I was surprised, and then I looked at our hands. I must have looked closely at his, because I remember he was wearing a big ring with a blue stone on his ring finger, and that the texture of his skin, in spite of the wrinkles, was soft. I was surprised, it infuriated me, I felt sad, but I let him take my hand. And I did it for the tip, because he was a gringo and gringos always left good tips, and because I assumed, in that brief moment when I looked at his hand over mine, that if I showed my annoyance he wouldn’t leave one. So I let an old man take my hand, for money.

It may seem ridiculous, but I’ve never told that to anyone. I could have told Dorothy that day we met for lunch—it would have offset her story and evened out our experiences. But I didn’t. And it wasn’t because I was ashamed—which is the reason I’ve never shared that story—but simply because I wasn’t thinking about it during our meal. I didn’t remember. I guess that’s how it works. It’s not about being naïve; what you do is fool yourself, and you do it so well that one day your actions come back to you and take you by surprise, sneak up behind you. Or that’s what I think now, as I once again wander with no fixed direction. I have to hold on to that idea, because I’d rather play the wise guy than come off as wide-eyed.

Laika

Laika

Josefa woke up from a brief dream. In the darkness, someone was shaking her shoulder, gently but insistently. Someone was saying her name, whispering. “Josefa, Josefa, wake up.”

“Hi, Fede,” she replied in a sleepy voice.

“Hi, Josefa,” he said. She could barely see his face as she reached out her hand to be sure he was there; he caught it and kissed her open palm. “We’re going to the beach to see UFOs,” said Fede.

“I’m sleepy,” she said, and now she could see him in the darkness of the room. She loved that, how her eyes could adjust to the night like a cat’s.

“Come on, kiddo,” Fede insisted, and when he said it she felt afraid. Fede’s eyes shone like a sky full of UFOs.

“I’m scared,” said Josefa.