D: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Author's note: I've been misspelling "Senor" and "Senora," forgetting
that Spanish-speakers do it differently. Mea culpa. Damn those Italian
college classes!

Senora Yanez did not have much time to pester her glowing Jesus after
all. Just two weeks after bringing Female home, she sat holding the
baby to her breast while her three sons took turns keeping a lookout
for their father. Senor Yanez had not been home for three days and
nights; his chair in front of the black-and-white television had
remained cold except when his oldest son, sensing an opportunity, sat
down in it when his mother left her couch to go to the kitchen. He only
tested the feel and comfort of the chair for a moment, however,
standing back up before his mother returned.

During the first night of their father's disappearance, the boys had
driven Senora Yanez into the apartment's small bathroom, where she put
Female in the empty bathtub and then proceeded to scream at the locked
door, "Why me? Why me?" The second night, as Senora Yanez stared into
space and rocked Female back and forth on the couch, the boys
understood something was amiss and quieted down, though one did manage
to break a jar of pennies he'd stolen from his parents' closet. The
sound of copper and broken glass hitting the hallway linoleum brought
the other two brothers running to investigate, but Senora Yanez
remained perched on the couch, though her rocking may have increased in
tempo. The boys weren't sure.

By the third night, the apartment was quiet except for Female's
occasional gurgling. The youngest boy, who'd always been more willing
than the other two to hold Female while his mother cooked or cleaned,
had placed a baloney sandwich next to Senora Yanez. He'd been careful
to pull the mold from the bread and had even wiped the kitchen counter
free of cockroaches before making the sandwich - the cockroaches being
so daring that they often came out in full light to see what was going
on - but the Senora had not touched her meal. The brothers had eaten
two sandwiches apiece, and finished off the baloney besides. Now they
were keeping watch.

They were in their makeshift bed between the living room and kitchen
when there was a knock on the apartment door. Senora Yanez gasped,
clutched Female tighter, and stood up from her couch. "Si?" she asked,
as cheerfully as the circumstances would allow, but it went unanswered.
She looked over at her sons, all of whom were sitting upright and still
wearing the clothes they'd worn all day, and motioned for them to
answer the door.

They did, pulling the door open and appearing to the visitor as a totem
pole of wide eyes and dark, brown faces. Senora Yanez thought she heard
the visitor say her last name, his voice deep and not unfriendly. She
could take the suspense no longer, and in two strides crossed the
living room and pulled open the door. Female chose that moment to spit
up on Senora Yanez's shoulder, while all three of the boys cried at
once, "No! No! Police, mama!" But it was too late.

Standing at the door was a man who reminded Senora Yanez of her Uncle
Salvador. He wore a white shirt, a tie, and a name tag. In his hand he
carried a briefcase, and he was smiling under a dark mustache that had
been carefully greased to points at either end.

"Senora Yanez?" he asked.

"Si," she answered. Already the clammy feel of Female's spit up was
soaking through the fabric of the Senora's dress. She shifted Female to
her other hip.

"Ah, buenos noches," the man said. He shifted his briefcase to his
other hand unconsciously, perhaps mimicking Senora Yanez's handling of
Female, or out of nervousness. "My name is Jorge Banchero," he said in
Spanish, pointing to the name tag on his shirt. "I must speak to you
immediately."

Only then did Senora Yanez see the two police officers standing behind
Mr. Banchero. She knew enough to not shut the door, but her sons
apparently did not. All three pushed at the door at once, catching
their mother in the shoulder and sending her and Female out into the
hallway. The door slammed shut behind them.

Mr. Banchero looked surprised, then laughed quietly. The policemen
stood bored in the background. One jingled his keys and cleared his
throat.

"Ah, yes. We must hurry, Senora Yanez," Mr. Banchero said, and begin
the story that Senora Yanez would later call the best news of her
life.

Her sons, on the other side of the door and already at a loss as to how
they could grab their mother and sister and bring them safely back into
the apartment, were not prepared for the shouts of joy in the hallway.
"Madre de Dios!" their mother cried. Then, "Gracias, gracias!" Female
begin a low howl that grew in intensity and only stopped when Senora
Yanez pounded on the door.

"Get packed! Get packed!" she yelled as soon as she was inside, handing
Female to the youngest boy and heading to the kitchen for a garbage
bag. "All the clothes, and the baby's things. Hurry! Don't forget the
towels. We are going home! Home!"

The boys, knowing their current situation was not what their father
would want, nevertheless ran about the apartment. Into plastic garbage
bags went each of their spare blue jeans, their church clothes (not
worn for so long that the eldest boy's would now fit the youngest,
though snugly), several plastic guns, a slingshot, three stolen
billiard balls, and a half-empty package of chewing gum. Thus prepared,
they stood huddled in the living room and waited for their mother, who
had run out of garbage bags and was attempting to stuff three pillows
into one pillowcase. She succeeded.

Their first time in a police cruiser kept the boys occupied, though
they listened carefully as Senora Yanez spoke with the man who'd been
at the door. The man knew where there father was; even better, he said,
he would take all of them to Senor Yanez right away. He smiled as he
said this, turning around to face them from the front seat, where he
was wedged between the policemen. The boys could see only his mustache
and grinning mouth; his eyes were blocked by the shotgun hanging on the
screen between the front and back seats of the cruiser.

"Gracias! Gracias!" Senora Yanez said, so many times that the spell
cast on the oldest boy was soon broken. He nudged his brothers on
either side of him and then flicked his nose with his index
finger.

And he was right. This stranger with the pointy mustache did have a
booger lodged just between his nostril and the dark hairs below it.