FROM THE OUTSET, Evelyn treated Frankie as a rational individual, on the basis that despite appearances he was intelligent. She learned how to move him without breaking her back, to bathe and dress him, to feed him without hurry in order to avoid his choking. Evelyn was so capable and affectionate with him that Cheryl was quickly convinced she could also hand over the control of her son’s diabetes to her. Evelyn measured his sugar intake before every meal and regulated his insulin injections, which she herself administered several times a day. She had learned a fair amount of English in Chicago, but there she had lived among Latinos and had few opportunities to practice it. At first at the Leroys’ she felt her lack of English when she tried to communicate with Cheryl, but they soon developed a friendly relationship that did not rely on too many words for them to understand one another. Cheryl came to depend on Evelyn for everything, and the young girl seemed to intuit her thoughts. “I don’t know how I lived without you, Evelyn. Promise me you’ll never leave,” her employer would often say when she felt overwhelmed by anxiety at her husband’s violence.
Evelyn told Frankie stories in Spanglish that he listened to closely. “You have to learn Spanish so we can tell each other secrets no one else will understand,” she said. At first the boy only grasped an idea here and there, but he liked the sound and rhythm of that melodious language and soon came to master it. Even though he could not form words, he answered Evelyn using the computer. When she first met Frankie, she had to cope with his frequent fits of anger, which she put down to his feeling isolated and bored. Then she remembered the computer her little brothers played with in Chicago and thought that if they could use it at such a young age, all the more reason why Frankie could: he was the smartest child she had ever met. She had little or no knowledge of computers, and the idea of having one of those fabulous machines at her disposal seemed fantastic, but as soon as she suggested it, Cheryl rushed out to buy her son one. They hired a young Indian immigrant to teach Evelyn the basics of computing, and she in turn showed Frankie.
His life and spirits improved remarkably thanks to this intellectual challenge. He and Evelyn became addicted to information and all sorts of computer games. Frankie typed with great difficulty as his hands barely obeyed him, but he spent hours glued to the screen. He quickly surpassed the basics the young instructor had taught them and soon was teaching Evelyn what he discovered for himself. He could communicate, read, entertain himself, and investigate whatever aroused his curiosity. Thanks to this machine and its infinite possibilities he proved that he did indeed have a superior intelligence, and his vast mind found the perfect foil for his challenges. The entire universe opened up before him, and one thing led to another. He would start with Star Wars and end up with a Madagascan dormouse lemur by way of Australopithecus afarensis, a forebear of Homo sapiens. Later on he set up an account on Facebook, where he led a virtual life with invisible friends.
To Evelyn, this reclusive world of gentle intimacy with Frankie was a balm that helped erase the violence she had endured. Her recurring nightmares ceased, and she was able to remember her brothers alive, as she had seen them in the last vision she had with the shaman in Peten. Frankie became as important to her as her distant grandmother. Every sign of progress he made was a personal triumph for her. His possessive affection and the trust Cheryl placed in her were enough to make her happy. She did not need anything more. She spoke to Miriam on the phone, and occasionally saw her on FaceTime, where she could observe how her little brothers were growing up, but not once in those years did she make arrangements to go and see her in Chicago. “I can’t leave Frankie, Mama, he needs me,” she would explain. Nor did Miriam feel any great need to visit this daughter who in fact was a stranger to her. They sent each other photos and Christmas and birthday presents, but neither of them made any effort to improve a relationship that had never really gotten off the ground. At first Miriam was afraid her daughter was going to suffer all alone in a cold city with people she did not know. She also thought she was being paid very little for the work she was doing, even though Evelyn never complained. In the end, Miriam convinced herself that Evelyn was better off with the Leroys than with her own family in Chicago. Her daughter had grown up, and she had lost her.
IT TOOK SOME TIME for Evelyn to understand the strange dynamic within the Leroy household.
The cook and her daughter warned her not to poke her nose into the Leroys’ affairs, because more than one employee had lost their job from being too curious. They had been in the house three years and still knew nothing of what their employer did. Maybe he did not have a job but simply was rich. They only knew that he brought in goods from Mexico and shifted them from state to state, but what kind of goods remained a mystery. No one could get a word out of Ivan Danescu, his right-hand man. He was as dry as week-old bread and it was obviously smart to stay away from him. Their employer always got up early, had a cup of coffee standing up in the kitchen, then went off to play tennis for an hour. After coming back, he took a shower and disappeared until evening or for several days at a stretch. If he remembered, he would go take a look at Frankie from the doorway before he left. Evelyn learned to avoid him and not to mention the boy in front of him.
For her part, Cheryl Leroy got up late because she slept badly. She spent the day at her different activities and had dinner on a tray in Frankie’s room. When her husband was away she used the opportunity to go out. She had only one male friend and almost no family; her activities outside the house were her many classes, her doctors, and her psychiatrist. She started drinking early in the afternoon, and by nightfall the alcohol had transformed her into a tearful child. It was then she turned to Evelyn for company. There was no one else she could rely on: this humble Guatemalan girl was her only support, her confidante. This was how Evelyn learned the details of her employers’ destructive relationship, including the beatings, and how from the start Frank Leroy had been against his wife’s friends, how he forbade her to receive anyone at home, not because he was jealous, as he told her, but to safeguard his privacy. His business affairs were very sensitive and confidential, and had to be protected at all costs. “After Frankie was born he became even stricter. He won’t allow anyone to come here, because he’s ashamed of his son,” Cheryl told Evelyn.
Whenever her husband was away on a trip, Cheryl’s nighttime outings were always to the same place, a modest Italian restaurant with checked tablecloths and paper napkins, where the staff knew her since she had been going there for years. Evelyn knew she did not eat on her own, because before leaving she would arrange on the phone to meet someone. “Apart from you, he’s my only friend, Evelyn,” she told her. He was a painter forty years older than she was; he was poor, an alcoholic, but very charming. Cheryl shared pasta made by the mamma in the kitchen, veal cutlets, and table wine. They had known each other for a long time. Before she was married she had inspired several of his paintings and was briefly his muse. “He saw me at a swimming competition and asked me to pose as Juno for an allegorical mural. Do you know who Juno was, Evelyn? She was the Roman goddess of vital energy, strength, and eternal youth. She was a warrior and a protective goddess. That’s how he still sees me. He has no idea how much I’ve changed.” It would have been pointless trying to explain to her husband how much her platonic affection for this elderly artist meant to her, or how those meetings in the restaurant were the only moments when she felt admired and loved.