—Ah yes, my father didn’t want us to grow up and serve tourists. Not his children. He wanted us to go to school and work for ourselves, like he did. He was a fish man, from a line of fish men, Don Chan continued talking, but no one was listening. Esperanza was anxious to put Santo to rest; by spreading his ashes she could once again sleep through the night without him whispering in her ear. Dallas, still buzzing from the rum they gave her at the airport, was holding on to Consuelo.

—Bobby, go get one of those guys with the vans. It doesn’t matter which one. They’re all thieves in this country. Puros ladrones!

—Dallas, don’t take your eyes off the luggage. Give them a chance and they’ll steal your clothes right off of your body, Esperanza said.

Dallas suspiciously looked at all the young men hovering around them, offering to help. She held Consuelo tighter against her.

—Ah! Don’t listen to her. People only steal when you suspect them, Don Chan said. —If you trust people, you disarm all their bad intentions. Isn’t that true, primo, Don Chan told one of the young men extending his hand. To Don Chan, every man could be a cousin.

Bobby returned with the driver.

—Whatever the driver said it cost, we pay half, Esperanza told Bobby and then pushed her way into the van. The heat was unbearable. —Don Chan, sit in the front, Esperanza yelled out to him. —Here’s some water so you don’t dehydrate. People can die from the heat.

Once the luggage was packed in the back, Bobby and Dallas climbed into the van with Consuelo. Bobby looked at the rubble, buildings in the midst of construction, big posters of future presidential candidates, piled palm leaves, broken bottles, tin barrels holding contained fires, kids fencing with branches, and stands selling fried fish and batata, close to the road to tempt drivers. Music blared out of car hutches; meat fried behind doors, luring the hungry who hovered around open windows.

—A year ago, you never saw the city so dirty. This government is robbing us of our money, the driver said.

—What else is new? Esperanza said. —No one ever follows the laws here.

—God, Mami…why you being so negative? Dallas said. Her mother had a different air about her. From the moment they landed, her mother was bossing everyone around and complaining.

—Me, negative? Esperanza looked out the car window to see the sea along the Avenida de las Américas.

—It’s something else, Don Chan said, admiring the horizon, the sparse palm trees bent over as if they were bowing to the sun.

Esperanza had forgotten how beautiful it was. The familiarity of the sea smell, the dense air, the taste of salt on her lips. The muscles around her neck immediately began to relax.

—Sure does look pretty, Esperanza said and grabbed Consuelo so she could look out the window.

The traffic was slow moving. Don Chan noticed three large buses pass by.