The Mare

Ginger

Later that night I tried to call Velvet’s house. Mrs. Vargas answered, spoke angry-normal Spanish, then sad-brightly said, “Okay?” It was the first English word she’d ever said to me. It was also the first time I’d heard any sadness in her voice. Or brightness.

I called Lydia. She said as soon as she walked in, the mother started crying and thanking her, and that Velvet did nothing but curse and yell. She said, “I told her, if you talked to me that way, I’d hit you too.”

When I got Velvet on the phone, she said, “She acts so nice in front of everybody else! I am so sick of her bullshit!”

Paul said, “And you want them to move up here? Really?”