Chapter 3: Sandy

Sandy was leaving the house just as Ike came back, and she immediately stopped and shouted:
Hey, come here!
He approached, not sure what she wanted. She seemed calmer now, though, although she bit her lip when he came closer.
Terrible way of greeting someone, I know, she said, but I have forgotten your name.
It's Ike.
Right. I'm Sandy.
I know.
Whatever. Let's get this over with. She was quickly becoming irritated again, but managed to repress it. I'm terribly sorry about yesterday. I was way out of line. You see, I was in a bad mood, and you just happened to be in the way of it.
But you were right. I shouldn't have said those things.
Well, men do that, don't they? she said with a wry grin. They talk about women like that when they think we're not listening or watching.
Ike nodded, and he began to see the humourous in the situation.
We're kind of terrible in that way. I only meant that I think you're very beautiful.
Her face got strained. Which brings me to another subject. She silenced so long that he was starting to wonder if that was his cue, before she blurted out in an almost hostile way: I don't date. Ever. I mean it.
It would have been funny if she hasn't been so dead serious. Still Ike couldn't help smiling as he answered:
That's okay, I already have a girlfriend.
You do!? The relief was obvious. A warm smile spread over her face. You don't want to go out with me then? God, what a relief! Then her face turned blood-red. That didn't come out very well, did it? I'm sorry. The stress is on don't, not you. You understand that, don't you?
He nodded, very amused. When she wasn't angry she resembled her sister a lot more, even though the age difference was still obvious.
Well, then that's sorted out. Then a thought struck her. What are you doing here alone, so soon?
I got tired. I have an injury that's healing, and I needed some rest.
Oh, I'm sorry. Her face got troubled. Do you want me to keep you company?
He shook his head.
Are you sure?
You were going somewhere.
Yeah, well, the graveyard. I think it can do without me.
Now it was his turn to get compassionate. Is it your father's grave you go to?
My father's? She found the question very funny and shook her head. My father isn't dead. He lives in San Diego with a woman called Lola, a widow with two daughters. They're twins, but not identical. Their names are Pilar and Conchita, and they're very nice. Anything else you want to know?
He didn't know what to answer to that. Now she actually laughed a bit.
If you're curious, you can just ask. If you step on any toes I'll definitely let you know.
Mrs. Girón - aunt Becky - seemed to think that it was better the less we said about your family.
Sandy got serious again.
Tía Becky is very nice, but she's got it all wrong. Keeping things like that hushed up just makes them seem bigger. Sure I have secrets I don't tell people, but my parents' divorce isn't one of them.
Her frankness made Ike dare to ask:
Why did they split up?
She sighed, and it took a few seconds before she answered, but not because she minded the question.
My sister Pepita died when she was six, and papá took it pretty badly. Well, I suppose there's no good way of taking a sudden and unpleasant death, but things got pretty awful around here. Mamá tried to keep things together and papá just turtled. Their marriage couldn't survive it. Apparently, that happens to lots of people. So it's Pepita's grave I'm going to. She looked inquiringly at him. What about you? Any tragical sceletons in your closet?
When she asked him like that it somehow didn't hurt to think about it. He sat down and told her about himself and his life. When he had finished, she whistled thoughtfully.
So, to sum up: family brutally murdered, bullied at the orphanage, lovelife only recently shaped up, strange tendency to get in the way of bullets - and a handicap to spice it all up. She shook her head disbelievingly, and her eyes glittered. Your life is way worse than mine!
Thank you so much.
Her attitude was somewhat confusing. She realised this and explained:
Well, I can't very well feel sorry for you when you don't seem to feel sorry for yourself. Besides, a very good friend of mine says that pity does more good for the one who feels it than the one exposed to it. Therefore self-pity is the only decent kind. In all other cases you should just try and be there. So, I'm here alright. I plan to leave, but you can come with me if you like.
The moment she had said this, she looked surprised at her own words, and Ike hurried to answer: I don't want to intrude.
She shook her head, frowning - at him or at herself he didn't know. If I thought you did, I never would have asked you. I'll just sit there for a while. It's a pretty place.

It was in truth a pretty place, and Ike found that it was in no way uncomfortable to sit there while the young girl tended the grave. A little bit sad, maybe, to see the small cross with the words: Aquí yace María Josefa Fernandez, 1844-1850. Nuestra niña valiente, but after all, it had been a long time. And Sandy hardly seemed about to start crying. On the contrary, she looked quite cheerful as she rose.
Do you want to go home? Or should we blaspheme this place with wordly conversation? she said with a smile.
He shrugged, less interested in which than in how different she seemed now.
Am I to make all the choices? Very well, then, we'll stay here.
She sat down beside him and then immediately seemed to regret doing so, because she moved a bit away and buried her hands in her lap, suddenly unfriendly again. Ike's speeding pulse made him realise what the matter was with her, and he asked:
Do you always get angry when you're nervous?
Is it that obvious? she said, amazed. You should see me when I'm really scared. Then I shouldn't be anywear near other people.
But at least you're not afraid of me.
Not at the moment, she said with a grin.
Not since I said I don't want to go out with you.
The grin disappeared from her face, and Ike regretted that he had mentioned it. He also wanted to get rid of that little treacherous voice in his head that kept saying but you do. He didn't. He had Emily.
Her silence was getting so uncomfortable that he wildly searched his mind for a safe subject. What he found was the question that had been bugging him for a long time.
How come you know signs?
It seemed to be a good ice-breaker, because she seemed quite as ease when she answered:
I knew you'd come to that sooner or later! My boss made me learn it, in case I ran into some Indians. It's not a skill I've had to use a lot, though. Well, until now.
He was intrigued. Boss? What do you work with?
I'm a reporter. You don't have to look so surprised! I work for an experimental paper in Chicago, which has the unusual practice to hire anyone who will do a good job. They're also very generous with letting you work from a distance if your home town has been destroyed by a storm and you want a few weeks to check on your folks. Anyway, when I was new at the job I felt quite awkward, which of course meant that I was a nuisance to everyone. So Pierce - that's the editor - called me into his office and asked me if I knew any Indian languages. When I said no he told me to learn one. Signs seemed to be the most useful one.
She looked thoughtful.
At first I was offended, she explained. I figured he looked at me as the closest thing to an Indian, and not that there's anything wrong with that, but Nita calls us 'mutts', and I think there's pride in being a little bit of everything. My mother's part of the family tree is full of aztecas, but I believe that if you just checked the branches closely you'd find I have ancestors from every part of the world. When I knew Pierce better I realised that he simply wanted to give me so much work I would forget about my exposed position and start giving people a break.
Were you that terrible, then?
Oh, worse! Much worse! My roommate, Lena, used to stay out all night just so she wouldn't run in to me. His amusement made her frown, pretending to be offended. Mind you, that wasn't only my fault, she's kind of hard to get used to herself.
She was so pretty when she said this that he couldn't help leaning over to kiss her. She moved aside with surprising quickness and rose to her feet.
What's her name? she asked. When he didn't seem to understand she continued: Your girlfriend. What's her name?
He felt through his pockets for something to write with and found a small stump of a pencil, but no paper. He scribbled on the stone wall they were sitting on.
Aha. Well, maybe you should think a little bit more about Emily and a little bit less about me.
She started to walk away from the graveyard and he followed her. She waved away his attempts to apologize.
Forget it. I should have known better. Listen, you seem like a very nice guy, but if you're going to make a pass at me every time I relax we ought to stop this right now. It's not because of Emily. Apparently you can't keep things on a friendship level, so we shouldn't meet alone. It's a shame though, up to now I had a really great time.
She wasn't yelling. She wasn't angry. But that only made everything worse, because she meant it.

You never gave me an answer about the Estrella thing, Carlos reminded Lou when she came home that evening.
I don't know really. She tried to stall him. Was he flirting with her? And what if he was? Sure, she and Kid were on a break, so it wouldn't be like cheating on him, but would it be fair to Carlos? If she only knew whether or not he knew that she was a girl. You don't think we could do it some other time? We'll be here for a few weeks.
Okay, a raincheck then. His eyes were teasing her although the rest of his face was serious. But I won't let you get away another time.
Carlos went inside the main house, where he found Sandy waiting by the window. She didn't look to happy about what she had just witnessed, and made sure to talk to him in private.
Are you crazy? she asked.
What do you mean? Carlos looked completely innocent, and his sister snapped:
You know damn well what I mean! You're flirting with Lou, aren't you?
What if I were? His eyes were serious now.
Out there, where everyone can see it! It's outrageous!
Oh, look who's talking! What have you been doing with Ike, then?
I'm not flirting with him!
No, you're pulling him towards you with one hand and pushing him away with the other. That's what I call repulsive!
How dare you condemn me! At least Ike is of the opposite sex!
She had raised her voice but quickly lowered it again, grateful that they had kept the quarrel in English. Then the elderly living there wouldn't understand.
Lou's a girl, Carlos said very calmly.

She's a girl. Take a good look at that cute little bottom. It belongs to a girl alright, I can see the difference.
Really? I'm amazed.
Oh, don't give me that!
She turned away from him, and when he tried to put a hand on her shoulder she shook it off.
, he said, softly. I'm worried about you. Don't you think this game you have been playing has lasted long enough?
It's not a game.
Whatever it is. You're a strong girl, and I know you can take care of yourself, but everyone's a lot better of with someone to love. Man or woman, he added with a provoking smile. I think mamá hoped you would find someone in Chicago, but you never did.
I don't want anyone.
Just because you never try. Why can't you admit that you're attracted to this guy, that you were flattered when he noticed you?
I'm not. I wasn't.
Oh, come on, you could never fool me. Not even with Duncan.
Her face was filled with pain, and he wished she would cry, just to get it out of her system. But she didn't.
Admit that you want him, he persisted.
I don't, okay? I don't want any man to do that She silenced, and he felt so sorry for her he almost couldn't stand it.
'That' can be a wonderful thing.
Not for me. She was so certain. And besides, he has a girlfriend.
Carlos lent very close to her and whispered:
A little infidelity never hurt anyone.
You are so awful! But her features lightened up and she actually laughed. I don't understand how you can be my brother.