The crowd laughed along with the patient, who admitted that it had been years since he had taken time off, that he never slept a full night because he feared someone was going to break into his house. And yes it was also true…he didn‘t remember the last time he‘d danced with his wife.

In return, Don Chan and his family were gifted with sweet breads, rice puddings, goats raised on oregano, pigs and fruits from the other side of the island. Don Chan was afraid to admit that full bellies made the Invisible Ones as indifferent to the injustices of the world as the rich whom he often criticized. Now that they had their land, and grew enough food to feed themselves, people spent their days making love and dancing their nights away. Don Chan wondered how long they could isolate themselves from the calamities affecting the cities and campos surrounding them. The people of Los Llanos were too busy enjoying abundance to care about what was brewing in the cities of D.R.

Nueva York

1992

The Colón family were all home for the first time in a long while. Don Chan napped in his bedroom. Esperanza made dinner with Dallas in the kitchen. Santo lounged in the living room, reading, while Bobby slouched on the sofa and watched the baseball game. The small radio was on a news station in the kitchen. The house smelled of frying oil and boiling beans.

—Esperanza, did you hear about this woman? Santo yelled over to the kitchen.

—What woman? Esperanza yelled back, chopping the onions and peppers. Dallas was washing the lettuce and beating it against the sink to dry.

—She lived on Quepasó Street, Santo said, reading the article, but not believing the story could possibly be true. It was right around the corner. It could‘ve been Esperanza or Dallas or him.

The phone rang and Esperanza picked it up, struggling to hold it with her neck. —Aló?

—May I speak to Miss Esperanza Colón, please?

—Sí, this is Esperanza.

—Miss Colón, this is a collection agency, and we‘re collecting a debt of yours for two thousand dollars.

Esperanza felt blood drain from her face, the room spin around. She smiled over at Santo, who looked up in curiosity. She shooed away Dallas, who repeated everything to her father.

In the bedroom, Don Chan picked up the other line, hoping it was a call from Miraluz. It had been weeks since he had last heard from her.

—This poor woman, Santo said, shaking his head. —She was walking on Quepasó and one of those potted plants, you know, the ones people keep on the fire escapes, fell on her head. Can you believe that?

—Just a second…, Esperanza yelled and then leaned out the window so her voice didn‘t carry over to Santo. —Two thousand dollars, what do you mean two thousand dollars? she told the man on the phone. —I haven‘t bought anything for that much. —Ay diosito, Esperanza whispered.