He turned to the woman at the registration table, attempting a smile, while he said in broken English, “Can we go in now?”

She didn’t answer. She could maybe have said something, about how troublemakers were not welcome in the camp. But it probably didn’t make any difference. Those who want to make trouble will do so, no matter what, whether they are allowed to enter or not. Sometimes it’s best just to be nice to them.

Hurriedly, I led Lou away, down the road. I had seen things like this before, brawls in food lines, in bars in the evening.

I knew what it was about and that it wouldn’t pass anytime soon. They would keep it up for a long time, these men, because it was always men. They would keep it up until their fists hardened. Till they had hit everything they could find that was soft, throwing punches that landed with hollow thuds. Muscles, bones, flesh, and organs. Strange moans a split second after the blow, when the body absorbed what had happened, as the nervous system did its job.

Their frustration was intensified by the heat, the heat that never relented, not even during the night. There is nothing that makes people more aggressive than not being able to sleep because of the heat.

The heat did something to the air. Like a gas, we inhaled it without noticing it. Like fungus spores. We absorbed them through our respiratory passages. They were growing inside of us. The fungi grew large and gray. Shiny on top, supple lamella skirts under the cap. Poisonous. They spread through us. Altered our nerve impulses, took control of the brain.

But this wasn’t my fight, not my conflict. Spain was not my country.

I had Lou. The only thing I could do was leave.

Nonetheless my feet were dragging. Because hadn’t Thick-Neck stuck his hand into the young boy’s bag? Hadn’t I seen that, really? Shouldn’t I have supported them? Sided with them?

I should have. And I wanted to. Show my solidarity with them. Choosing sides means being inside.

“You are walking so slowly,” Lou said, pulling me.

And I quickened my pace, walking faster, even though I felt I had shrunk. I was convinced that they were staring at us, everyone in the line, that they saw how small we were, what outsiders we were.

He who doesn’t choose sides is damn lonely.

Lou followed the right route, the third lane to the left—no people in the gardens today, the shutters were closed. All the houses looked empty.

As we walked along, Lou’s steps became lighter. She was looking forward to this. Soon she started chattering. She talked more than she had in a long time, about the boat, about the dolphins. I listened only in part. But then she started asking questions.

“Daddy, where is there the most water?”