Where Gringos Don’t Belong

Posted on May 9, 2015

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His flesh goose pimpling he reached for his cell. The response to punching her number was immediate. Fuera de servicio… Out of service. He checked to make sure he had it correct and tried again. Fuera de servicio. She wasn’t answering. Or her phone was turned off. Or she’d lost it…

No, if she’d lost it she’d buy a Ladatel card and call from a public phone. Unless…

         Unless she couldn’t. Unless she was with Fernando and they hadn’t gone to Mexico City and had gone to Juxtlahuaca together. Or had gone somewhere else. Or she hadn’t been able to resist his offer of cocaine. Of crank. Or they’d taken downers and…

Violently he shook the images away. You don’t know, don’t imagine what you don’t know…

That he didn’t know festered within him, making him question, making him fear. Images of Patricia overlapped those of Claudi: the e-mail describing her rape, her phone call the night the federal police had grabbed her, his pacing, wishing, wondering…

And Claudi being with him. Claudi counseling him not to imagine the worst, Claudi rushing to the spot overlooking the arroyo to meet him, Claudi saying she loved him…

Why doesn’t she call?

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