Mayor
We heard they were from México.
“Definitely,” my mom said, staring at them through our front window as they moved in. “Look at how short they are.” She let the curtain fall back in place and walked to the kitchen, wiping her hands on the dish towel slung over her shoulder.
I looked, but all I saw was three people moving through the dark, carrying stuff from a pickup truck to unit 2D. They cut across the headlights of the truck a few times, and I made out their faces, but only long enough to see a mom, a dad, and a girl about my age.
“So?” my dad asked when I joined him and my mom at the dinner table.
“I couldn’t really see anything,” I said.
“Do they have a car?”
I shook my head. “The truck’s just dropping them off, I think.”
My dad sawed off a piece of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth. “Do they have a lot of things?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem like it.”
“Good,” my dad said. “Maybe they are like us, then.”
WE HEARD FROM Quisqueya Solís that their last name was Rivera.
“And they’re legal,” she reported to my mom over coffee one afternoon. “All of them have visas.”
“How do you know?” my mom asked.
“That’s what Nelia told me. She heard it from Fito. Apparently the mushroom farm is sponsoring them.”
“Of course,” my mom said.
I was in the living room, eavesdropping, even though I was supposed to be doing my geometry homework.
“Well,” my mom went on, clearing her throat, “it will be nice to have another family in the building. They’ll be a good addition.”
Quisqueya took a quick look at me before turning back to my mom and hunching over her coffee mug. “Except …,” she said.
My mom leaned forward. “What?”
Quisqueya said, “The girl …” She looked at me again.
My mom peered over Quisqueya’s shoulder. “Mayor, are you listening to us?”
I tried to act surprised. “Huh? Me?”
My mom knew me too well, though. She shook her head at Quisqueya to signal that whatever Quisqueya was going to say, she’d better save it if she didn’t want me to hear it.
“Bueno, we don’t need to talk about it, then,” Quisqueya said. “You’ll see for yourself eventually, I’m sure.”
My mom narrowed her eyes, but instead of pressing, she sat back in her chair and said loudly, “Well.” And then, “More coffee?”