“That’s correct. But thankfully there are special schools where she can get the help she needs, and where she will be among others like her, where she will no longer be singled out and bullied.”

Patricia felt all of a sudden hot and woozy at the same time. Then she began to cry. “It’s my fault. Her birth, it went on for far too long. I wasn’t pushing right. She was distressed. The doctor had to perform a caesarian section…”

“No, Mrs. Diaz. María’s ailment is not the result of something you did or didn’t do, so don’t blame yourself.”

“Oh dear me…my María…my poor María…”

“I know how hard all this must be for you to take in, Mrs. Diaz. I know how hard it was for me to tell you—”

Patricia stood decisively. “Where is María right now?”

“She should be in class, I imagine.”

“Would you please fetch her for me? Tell her I’ll be waiting out front the school. I’d like to spend some time with her.”

2

María burst out the front doors, her book bag slung over her shoulder, Angela gripped in one hand.

That doll, Patricia thought with vitriol. I never should have let her keep that doll. Maybe if I’d put my foot down years ago, maybe she wouldn’t be…

“Mamma!” María said, her face lighting up. “Why are you at school?”

Patricia knelt on the pavement and opened her arms wide. María crashed into her, hugging her tightly—and in that moment Patricia realized her daughter was the same daughter she had always known, and she would continue to love her, she had a duty to love her, feebleminded or not. “I thought you would like some ice cream,” she said, brushing fresh tears from her eyes. “Would you like some ice cream?”

“Yes, please! Can I have chocolate? Can I have chocolate? Can I?”

“You can have anything you want, sweetheart.”

“What about after? Do I have to go back to school after?”

Patricia stood and took her child’s hand. “That’s something we’re going to talk about.”

Elizaveta

1

Not long after Jack and the others left, a mild wind picked up, and the slate-gray sky began to spit. Then, maybe twenty minutes after that, the sky let loose, unleashing torrents of driving rain, which now plinked against the hut’s corrugated iron roof, sounding like a carnival Wheel of Fortune at the height of its spin. Elizaveta sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against a support post. Jesus and Pita were seated across from her. Dolls covered almost every inch of wall behind them, their eyes glinting in the murky half-light, shadows carving hard edges into their round childlike faces.