“Yes, he’s been here the whole time, Mother, practically locked up in Edward’s room.”
She looked at me and then back at Sophia. “And that’s all of it?”
“No. Jesse insisted we go down to speak to the police. They were pretty nasty. I told them you wouldn’t want us to talk to them without a lawyer, and they ridiculed me, treating me as if I was the one who threw Bradley through the window. I did tell them how we had gone to the Roadhouse and even gave them the name of the waitress who waited on us. You can go and check on that yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Tía Isabela stared a moment and then relaxed and slipped into her chair.
“Inez!” she shouted.
It was pretty obvious to me that Inez had her ear to the door and had been listening to everything. She was there in a second.
“Yes, Mrs. Dallas?”
“Get me a cup of fresh coffee and a glass of ice-cold water.”
“Yes, Mrs. Dallas.”
“How was your weekend, Mother?” Sophia asked her, as if this was just another morning. She finished her cranberry and orange muffin in a single bite. “Where did you go, anyway? Were you with Travis again?”
“Don’t worry about my weekend, Sophia. I told you not to change the subject.”
“Well, I told you everything! What else do you want?”
“Do you or Delia have any knowledge of the whereabouts of these Mexican boys?”
“How would we? That was the first time I had ever met any of them. I’m not in the habit of hanging around with Mexican boys, Mother.”
“I can’t believe this,” Tía Isabela said after a deep sigh. “I’m already a nervous wreck. Tomorrow, we take Edward to his doctor to see how his eyes are healing.”
“What are you nervous about? You said he’s losing the use of one, didn’t you?”
“We don’t know to what extent yet, but most likely, yes,” she said.
Inez appeared with a glass of ice water for her. “In a minute, the coffee,” she said, and left.
Tía Isabela drank her water, thought a moment, and then turned to me.
“Ella está diciendo la verdad?” she asked me.
“You never speak Spanish, Mother,” Sophia said immediately. “What are you asking her?”
“La verdad?” Tía Isabela asked me, ignoring her.
I knew if I said no, that it wasn’t the truth, Sophia would hate me and try to hurt me in some way. I saw what she was capable of doing, and I feared her almost as much as I feared my aunt, but I remembered that Grandmother Anabela used to say, “Es más fácil de atrapar a un mentiroso que a un cojo.” It’s easier to catch a liar than a cripple.
Besides, I had little faith in the loyalty of Sophia and her friends. One would betray the other if she was in any danger, I thought, and eventually, Tía Isabela would know what was true and what wasn’t. Up until now, I had traveled with them into the dark side, but it was time to go back, or at least try to go back. Tía Isabela was no Father Martinez, and I expected no forgiveness nor wanted any from her, but I would no longer bathe in the same water or breathe the same air as my cousin Sophia. To do so would stain the memory of my parents and move them closer to that third death.
“No lo dije a Ignacio. Estaba ella.”
Tía Isabela nodded, smiling coldly.
“What did she say? Huh? What did she say?”
“She said she didn’t tell Ignacio about Bradley raping her and where he was; you did.”
“What? She’s lying. She’s afraid she’ll get into trouble and be deported or something.”
Inez returned with a cup of fresh coffee for Tía Isabela. No one spoke until she left. Tía Isabela sipped some coffee first, thinking. Then she nodded to herself.