In the internal caverns of her mind in which Fe had gotten lost, she could not accept lost love. She once had Tom’s devotion and would find it again, if it took a hundred years. Even if she had to search through slimy darkness forever, she would get the Tom that had loved her to materialize again as her bridegroom, in that tuxedo he had picked out to rent for their wedding. He would write her another neatly printed note to undo that last one: “Honey, I’m sorry. Forgive me. Just take me back and I’ll make it all up to you.”

She wrote that imaginary note over and over in her head when that image of herself with her eyes bulging and her mouth wide open came to her and she could hear from somewhere far, far away the spine-chilling cry of an agonized woman … And all this can only be said to be a glimpse of what the stubborn Fe must have gone through during her “illness,” which to her was remembered as that, an illness, while to the rest of the household behind her back it was the time referred to as El Big Grito.

“What’s Loca do__out__?” Fe said to her mother, who had just come in through the kitchen. Sofia went over to the window and stood next to Fe to see what she meant. They could see that Loca was down by the acequia, and although they could not see her very well, it appeared very much to them that she was going rapidly in circles around the cottonwood tree. Loca was wearing a pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt and was barefoot, as always. Round and round at a dizzying rate she went, looking down at the ground, and apparently distressed.

“Agh! Oh Mom, stop—!” Fe groaned, thanking God that no one else could see Loca making a complete fool of herself—like usual.

“That’s enough, Fe,” Sofia said to la Gritona. “Maybe your sister lost something out there …”

“Mom! She loo ____ a hamster ____ wheel!”

Sofia gave Fe a dirty look and ran out to call Loca from the front porch. “¡’jita! ¿Qué te pasa? Come on in! You’re getting sunstroke!”

But Loca didn’t stop, she just kept going round and round, until Sofia ran down to get her. Once Sofia was next to Loca she saw that Loca was not just upset, but looked terrified. Her red-toasted dirty cheeks were tear-stained and Loca threw her arms around her mother, glad to be rescued from her never-ending rotation. “Come on in, ’jita,” Sofia told her daughter and arm-in-arm they walked back up to the house.