I still don’t like to think about what happened that day. I believed that even as a child.īut what he told the federale led to a bust on one of our shipments.Īnd because Juan had been in charge of driving me to school for years, I was to be the one to end Juan’s life. Then one day my father found out that a federale had bribed Juan for information. He was the driver for our family, in charge of making sure Marisol and I got to where we needed to go. He was the man who drove me to school in the mornings.
Then it quickly fades and morphs, as faces do in dreams, and becomes the face of Juan Alvarez. She moves, throwing her arm out, birds flying forth from underneath the endless void of her cloak, and she whips the man around until he’s lying at my feet.įor one horrible moment, as the dust rises and falls, I think I’m staring down at my father. She drags him behind her on a leash made of frayed rope.īut though the man is nearly skeletal, his suit hanging off him in dirty, wet tatters, he’s not dead. I want to ask her what she wants from me, but I cannot speak. I’m alone in the desert, wide open and stretching as far as the eye can see. He’d chalk it up to her paranoia again, her guilt over Sophia, that she’s not Ben’s real mother.Ī pile of matchsticks about to go up in flames.īut this time she has blackbirds instead of hair, swirling around her in a gathering storm.
Her eyes are wide open, staring into the shadows of the room while she listens to Camden’s breath grow deeper and deeper as he falls into sleep.īen was acting weird tonight, she thinks. “The only time lies are worth telling.” He holds her close to him, kisses her forehead.
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