Talia had no idea what her mother did with those ashes. She’d wanted to reserve a scoop for herself, but Mauro said it wasn’t right to divide Perla’s remains, and she belonged more to Elena than to either of them. But Talia thought it was wrong to parcel her away from Colombia, a country she said she’d never leave, even if the gringos granted her a visa, even if her daughter and grandchildren made lives elsewhere. Now what was left of her was already in New Jersey and Talia was the last of her family line in the Andes.
There was a girl at the prison school who called herself an espi-ritista, claiming she could cast spells and speak to the dead, and if a girl gave her their portion of dinner, she would cook up an hechizo or call upon whichever ancestor they wanted. She was fat from getting everyone’s rice and potatoes, but most of the girls only wanted her to harm people they felt wronged by in life—relatives, rivals, the judges who sentenced them. One night Talia gave the girl her whole slab of pork, tough as plastic, but she would eat anything. Later, in their dormitory, Talia told the girl to bring Perla to talk to her. The girl closed her eyes, recited some nonsense words, and said Talia’s grandmother would appear to her that night in her dreams.
It didn’t happen. When Talia complained the next morning, the girl swore her grandmother had appeared to her, she just didn’t remember it. “The memory of her visit will come to you in the future,” the girl said. “Be patient.”
If they’d been in the outside world, Talia might have smacked the girl. But since they were already locked up, all she could do was wait.
* * *
In the bathroom at a roadside restaurant near Oiba, Talia pulled some cash from her underwear. When she came out, she went to the counter and bought two sodas and empanadas. She found Aguja in the parking lot polishing the handlebars of his moto and gave him one of each.
He sipped from the can. The liquid turned his top lip orange. “You said you would tell me why you’re in such a hurry once I got you out of Barichara.”
“I have a flight to catch.”
“Where to?”
“The United States.”
“Why?”
“My mother lives there with my brother and sister. They’re waiting for me.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of what?”
“Over there people walk into schools and buildings with weapons and kill everyone. They’re not even guerrilla or paramilitary. Just regular people. What are you going to do when you’re out shopping and some gringo points a machine gun at your forehead?”
“I don’t think it’s any worse than here. Just different.”
“Do you have a father?”
“Yes. In Bogotá.”
“What does he think about you going north?”
“He always knew I would. I’m American.”
“You’re lying.”
“I was born there. My mother sent me here when I was a baby.”
“Oh, you’re one of those. Sent back like some DHL package.”
“You’re jealous I have a way out of here. Everyone is.”
He gargled the last drops of his soda, kicking the empty can onto a patch of grass. Talia went to pick it up and drop it in the trash with her own can.
“Who’s the guy you robbed?”
“Some pervert.”
“Did he do something to you?”
“He tried.”
“What were you doing in Barichara?”
“Seeing some of my country before I leave it.” She was tired of his questions. “What about you? Are you in school?”
“Not for years. I do odd jobs. Deliveries when people ask. I used to work for a mechanic, but I got bored and stopped going.”
“Who do you live with?”
“My girlfriend’s family. I was outside their house when you found me.”
“Lucky me.”
“Don’t start flirting with me. I told you I’ve got a girlfriend. You’re a kid, and I’m not a pervert like that other guy.”
“Who’s flirting? I’m just saying I’m glad you got me out of that place.”
He climbed onto his motorcycle, sliding his hips forward to make room for her. She eased onto the seat behind him, slid her hands around his waist, clasping them at his navel. “Don’t get attached, ni?a. Just a little longer on this road and you’re on your own.”
TEN
When the police told Mauro his daughter had brutally assaulted a man, that she could have blinded him for life, he was sure she did it in self-defense. She never caused problems at home or school. She had the manners he never had. He was wrong. It wasn’t self-defense, but still he believed she had her reasons and they must have been right and good.