I blink quickly, doing my best to banish the tears. “I miss him.”
She nods and pauses, looking at the bundle in her lap she’s been working on. I turn back to finish whip
stitching the seam of Selena’s uniform skirt. I’m right at the end, and I do the back and forth, then tie the ends of the thread in a knot so it doesn’t unravel on her.
“There,” I say, folding the piece and setting it on the short stack of clothes I ruined. “All done.”
Reaching into my lap, I start to wrap the remaining thread around the almost-empty spool. I need to figure out a way to buy them more thread since I keep destroying all our clothes.
“Here,” Ximena says, standing. “For you.”
My hair is tied up in a little bun on the top of my head, and the loose, flour-sack dress I’ve worn every day for weeks is damp with sweat.
“What is it?” I say, squinting up at her from where I’m sitting on the ground.
She whips from her lap my old denim dress, only it’s completely transformed. She’s added a seam under the breast line to create an empire waist and cut long, skinny slits in intervals through the bodice leading down to the hem. In each of the slits, she’s added a strip of thin, floral cotton material to expand the width and make room for my growing midsection.
“Ximena!” I gasp, covering my face with my hands. “It’s bunita!” It’s beautiful!
I put my elbows on my bent knees to cover my face. No one has ever done anything like this for me. I never even look for people to do nice things for me. If anyone does a favor, it’s always because they want something in return. In my world everything is tit for tat.
Only, here, this woman who has nothing, who carried me off the dirt road into her home at the cost of a beating and god knows what else, has made this dress for me. Tears stream down my face, and I can’t take my hands away. I’m too overwhelmed. I’m too… grateful.
“Aki, aki,” she says. Here, here.
Grasping my arms, she pulls me up gently.
“Off!” she says, motioning for me to remove my dirty dress.
“Let me go inside,” I say. “I’ll put it on inside.”
I motion to the hut, and she smiles, handing me the new dress. For a moment, I only look at it, running my fingers over the perfectly small, neat stitches she made around the new, floral panels.
It’s unique and interesting, and I can’t help thinking of when Reggie took Ava and me to the designer boutiques at Bal Harbor. Ximena is so creative, and she’s an amazing seamstress. She could design clothes…
I’m inside the small house slipping out of my old dress and using it to dry the sweat off my body. She cleaned my denim dress before altering it, and I consider running to the little shower in the bushes to rinse off before I put on my beautiful new dress.
Taking my time, I step into it, pulling it over my tiny pooch. I have to laugh at my silly little stomach. It’s not even a bump. I’ve simply gotten thick in the middle and back, and I look like a sausage. What would Cal say if he saw me now? Would he laugh? Would he touch my stomach in wonder at what we’ve done, like I do? How would his beautiful eyes change if they saw me? Would they darken with desire?
A lump is in my throat as I pull the dress up and tie the halter part around my neck. I can only see the bottom, but I do a little spin. From what I can tell, it looks beautiful! I’m just about to run outside and thank my friend when I hear the sound of a truck pulling into the yard.
I look toward the cloth door, expecting Ximena to run inside like she always does when anyone comes into our little camp. I wait several moments, and she still doesn’t appear. The noise of voices speaking their language is loud in the courtyard, and I hear a shout. I’m stunned, and I run to the curtain. It’s Ximena shouting.
Slinging it aside, I see Mako is in the yard. He’s with two other men I’ve never seen before. They’re driving a truck and in the back three women are crouched together, their chins tucked into their knees as if for protection.
My eyes move fast from them to Mako, and I see he’s grasping Ximena’s arm. She is pulling back, struggling against his hold, and I run to where they’re standing. He speaks sharply. I make out Selena, and she instantly stops struggling. Their eyes lock for the beat of a heart and she relents. Her fight is gone, and she starts to go with him.
“NO!” I scream, grasping her arm and pulling hard.
My motions seem to enrage him. Mako shoves my chest, and I stumble backwards.
“Cards!” I scream, holding out my hands. “Cards for Ximena!”
His eyes narrow on me. Stepping forward, he puffs out his chest, and I know he’s trying to intimidate me. “You cheat!” he says.
“NO!” I shout. “Cards for Ximena!”
I’ve got to save her. It’s all I can do, even if he’s right and I am cheating. One of the first tricks Seth taught me was to count cards. Still, I’m cheating a pimp—that makes it okay, right? I don’t care. In my world the answer is yes.