Esperanza was nervous. Her hands clammy. At least three hundred, maybe five hundred. Even more, she thought and became proud of herself for waiting to dig into the tin for as long as she did. That alone merited a prize.

She opened the tin, spread the dollar bills on the bed, and started to count. It felt like less than what she had expected. Ten dollars. Thirty dollars. She piled the money in small stacks. Eighty dollars. Two hundred and twenty dollars. But she had put money in the tin every day. How could that be? Two hundred and twenty dollars? Her heart sank to her stomach. A pain shot to her head. There was money missing. Her throat swelled up, making it difficult to breathe. Bobby. She had seen him wearing some new things.

—Mom, I’m going to the store, do you need anything? Bobby said, knocking on her bedroom door. Esperanza’s face was in her hands. —How could you? she said and threw herself against his chest.

—Yo, what’s the matter with you? Bobby tried to control his mother’s flailing arms. Dallas and Don Chan ran to the room.

—What happened? Don Chan said.

Dallas hid behind Don Chan.

—How could you? Esperanza yelled at Bobby. —Stealing from your own mother? She pounded on his chest.

—Wait a second, Esperanza. Calm down, Don Chan said.

—Bobby? Hush ran into the room and immediately felt a contraction that made it hard for her to speak.

—But I haven’t done anything! Bobby tried to hold his mother to keep her from collapsing.

Dallas slipped into her bedroom to check to see if the money was still there. Rolled up inside a drawer inside the pocket of a T-shirt was 150 dollars.

—Bobby! Hush said again, tugging at his shirt.

—What!

Hush waddled out of the living area and Bobby ran after her.

—What’s going on?

—The baby, Hush said, breathing deep and fast.

Without thinking twice, Bobby picked up Hush and told her to hold on to his neck. She was heavier than he expected.

—Where are you going? I’m not finished with you, Esperanza said and ran after them.

—Hold on, Hush. We’re having our baby the right way, with a doctor. Bobby ran with Hush in his arms, and between contractions, Hush breathed in Bobby’s skin of orange rinds and garlic. She breathed in the Bobby who fed her vitamins and brought her books. She breathed in Bobby and sucked his neck, leaving a hickie that stayed with him for a number of years.

—Wait for us, Don Chan yelled after him, grabbing his cane. —Wait for us, he said, making sure Dallas gathered Hush’s things.

Hush was ready. The baby was ready, and it was pressing against her bladder so hard that they couldn’t wait to get a taxi. Bobby was going to walk as quickly as he could to that emergency room or else she was having that baby on the street. And as he walked, everyone looked out their window on Quepasó Street to see Bobby struggling to carry Hush, whose belly was now twice the size of a basketball, who didn’t care who saw her, not caring about the gossip that would surface, not caring that Don Chan was struggling to keep up with them.