—I‘ll pick them up on my way home from work.

—But I‘ll prepare them, you use too much oil for my taste, Don Chan said.

—As you wish. Esperanza walked back into the kitchen. He followed her because he wanted her to know that she couldn‘t hide from him. He was there to accuse her of something. Of what exactly, he didn‘t know. And she was making it difficult for him by being so nice.

Dancing around the living room with Esperanza convinced Santo that what they needed was a night alone where they could forget all their problems. And what better place than the Palladium?

—Esperanza, what if we go dancing tonight? Santo asked her as soon as she arrived home from work, before she could take off her work clothes and change into her housedress. That matronly housedress that he disliked. It covered all her curves. Don‘t change, not yet, he wanted to say. He took a good look at her while she was dressed for the world. Makeup, hairdo, and all. Was there something for them to celebrate, an anniversary perhaps?

—I‘m working tomorrow, early, she said. She tasted her lips. She played with her bangs covering her eyes.

—We‘ll order fried chicken for the kids. My father can watch them tonight.

Santo put one arm around her waist and kissed her on the lips. When was the last time they had kissed each other like that? He did it again, sucked her bottom lip and pressed her pelvis onto his. Yes, tonight he wanted to dance. And he wanted to fuck her. Not make love. No, he wanted to be with her as if he‘d just met her in a club. To feel the heaviness of his wife over him and get lost in her flesh. He wanted them to sleep naked like they did before Bobby was born. They could lock their bedroom door for privacy.

—C‘mon, amor. Let‘s break the routine for once.

—Maybe next week, she said, but didn‘t mean it. She had no time to dance. Or energy, for that matter.

What had gotten into him? Esperanza couldn‘t bear how loving he was, not after what she had done. Secrets were awful in that way. He was trying to get closer to her and all she could think about was the debt she was in, the trouble this was going to cause for them. She wanted to be left alone. She needed space to think. It had been a horrible day. Her client spent the entire day complaining. Her agency told her she could do overtime, which meant working nights. She had no choice. She had to tell Santo about the overtime. And then, of course, the debt.

—No no, Santo, not tonight, there‘s too much for me to do around the house. Besides, it‘s so cold out there. Don‘t you have to work? You know if you don‘t put in the hours…

—But it‘s our anniversary, Santo said, laying it on thick. Everything about Nueva York was about tomorrow. He wanted it to be about today. —You could wear one of the fancy dresses you have. I could wear one of my new shirts that still have the tags on. You always complain that you never have any place to wear your nice clothes.