What does he do?”
“Works at a W illiams-Sonoma.”
There was a long pause befor e Lupe ask ed, “What
happened to Geor gie?”
“He got very sick. And then he died.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.” She waited for a moment. “What was
he lik e?”
Jonathan rubbed his eyes. “ Full of life and fun. Every day
was an adventur e with him. He’d be so surprised to ﬁnd outthat he’s dead.”
“Don’t you think he knows?”
Jonathan shrugged. “ Anyway, when the sickness came,
all that fun and adventur e wer e gone. It was a swif t and
terrible end.”
Lupe listened to him with a serious look on her face. “If a
house is ﬁlled with love and song, ther e isn’t r oom for
sickness. That’s what Grandma says; that’s why Grandpa
always puts on music.”
“If I’d known your little secr et, I would have hir ed a
mariachi band,” Jonathan said ar chly. “I’m sur e it would
have made a big diﬀer ence in the critical car e unit. Honestly, I pr obably would have tried anything.”
“Did you cry when he died?”
“Lupe, enough. Ar e you in training with Barbara W alters
or something?”
“Who’s Barbara W alters?”
“Yes, I cried. But I don’t anymor e. I try not to, anyway . I
loved him, and he loved me. The last thing he said to me
was ‘thank you.’”
“And what did you say?”
“I don’t r emember .”
“Maybe you said ‘you’r e welcome’?”
There was a call fr om ne xt door, “ Lupe, L upe . . .”
Jonathan, clearly upset, tur ned away as L upe’s
grandmother walk ed to Jonathan’s door . “Lupe,” her grandmother said, “time to go to the
hospital.”
“Already? I hate going ther e,” she said. Jonathan tur ned back to her . “Why does your grandfather
have to go?”
Lupe tur ned away . “See you tomor row.”
When L upe enter ed the apartment, her grandpar ents
were standing in the foyer, alr eady pr epared to leave. “ Put
on your jack et, Lupe. I know it’s har d. None of us lik es to
go.”
Lupe went into her r oom and put on a lightweight jack et. Then they all lef t the apartment in silence and moved
outside to the bus stop. Her grandfather was using a walk er. “Why ar en’t you in your wheelchair?” L upe ask ed him,
adjusting his collar . “It’s too much tr ouble, with the bus,” he said. When they r eached the hospital, they enter ed a long line
of exhausted-looking patients waiting for their appointment
paperwork. The air conditioner was br oken, as wer e the
water fountains. Everyone was complaining. Once they got their paperwork, they sat in another lar ge,
penlik e area that was even hotter than the ﬁrst. L upe and
her grandpar ents sat in straight-back chairs against the
wall. Ther e wer e dozens of families, many speaking Spanish,
others talking languages L upe couldn’t place. One man held his head in his hands; several childr en
moaned in a par ent’s ar ms, as if something inside of them
were broken. “When can we get in?” a young girl ask ed her mother,
but her mother shook her head and said wearily, “I don’t
know, honey . Please sit still.”
Lupe tur ned her gaze to the vending machine and tried
to imagine what she’d buy if she had all the money in the
world. But even the vending machines wer en’t tempting
here; only oﬀ-brand sof t drinks and stale-looking nuts and
chocolates that had melted in the heat. Both her grandpar ents fell asleep, their heads leaning
inwar d, towar d Lupe who had also closed her eyes. She was
softly chanting: “ I love myself; ther efore, I live totally in the
now, e xperiencing each moment as good and knowing that
my futur e is bright, joyous, and secur e.”When a nurse called out their name, both grandpar ents
woke with a start. They all stood and ﬁled into the oﬃce,
wher e their infor mation was enter ed into the computer . Lupe felt as if they wer e stuck in a pr ocess that they’d
repeated hundr eds of times. What was the sense of
computers if every time you had to pr ovide the same
material? But her grandpar ents showed no sign of being
angry . Her grandmother got out a small notebook fr om her
purse and r eported all the data ask ed of her in a pleasant
voice. L upe admir ed her fortitude and level mood; if she
ever got sad or scar ed, she didn’t show it. Poppy was mor e emotional. She had once seen him gr ow
so angry that he br ought his big ﬁst down on the dining-
room table, splitting one of the boar ds. But he never acted
this way in public. His hair was even grayer lately, and much
of it had fallen out at some point she hadn’t noticed. “Do all thr ee of you need to be in her e?” the nurse ask ed
roughly when it was time to enter the doctor’s oﬃce. “Yes,” said L upe’s grandmother . “All of us.”
OceanofPDF .comCHAPTER 8
A crowd of par ents and grandpar ents wer e taking their
seats in the school auditorium. L upe’s grandmother sat in
the fr ont row, wearing a hat and a brightly ﬂower ed dr ess. A
long pr ocession of girls walk ed onstage, one a r eplica of the
other—long pale hair with bangs and dark dr esses with
white collars. Mrs. Saldana clapped loudly when L upe
enter ed the stage, trailing in at the end. She was smiling,
but clearly out of place. Her long hair had partly escaped fr om its elastic and was
curling ar ound her face, and her dr ess was cut fr om the
same bright fabric as her grandmother’s. Lupe tried to stand in tight for mation with the other
singers, but following Brie’s lead, they managed to inch
away fr om her, leaving a space that was visible fr om the
audience, as if she wer e infectious. Brie’s face was steely
tonight, without the smirk she usually wor e. She seemed to
be sear ching the audience for someone. The conductor, a tall nun in moder n habit, bowed to
applause and raised her ar ms. The girls all tur ned to her
and, at her downbeat, commenced singing “The L ord Is
Mighty .” As the singing continued, L upe’s voice r ose,
distinctive among the sopranos: sweet, clear, light, and
lyrical. A t the end of the song, several of the girls look ed
over at her in disdain, but L upe was oblivious. There was a small commotion in the back as the second
song began. A man dr essed all in black with a slouched hatwas helped into a back seat. Appar ently, he was blind. During the ne xt two songs, Jonathan gradually sat up
straighter as he hear d Lupe’s voice above all the others. Her
voice had a high bell-lik e ring to it, and Jonathan listened
carefully . When the singing ended, the conductor perfor med the
“zipper movement,” and L upe smiled. Ther e was a small
commotion in the back—the man in black in the back r ow
had now vanished. As Lupe walk ed into the apartment the ne xt afternoon,
Jonathan was wrapping up a phone call. He sounded
exasperated. “ Okay, all right! I agr ee!”
He hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. “What’s wr ong?” L upe ask ed. “My mother’s going to be in town this week en r oute to
Hawaii. She insists on coming to visit.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not good. I haven’t seen her for ages. And I
haven’t seen her for a r eason.”
“What’s the r eason?”
“She drives me nuts! That’s the r eason. She’s a little
dynamo of negativity .”
“What about your father?”
“He never travels with her . He’s glad to be lef t alone. I
don’t know if I can tak e it—I r eally don’t. She’s truly an
awful woman. She’s still trying to ﬁx me up with her
girlfriends’ daughters.”
“I’ll help you entertain her .”
Jonathan laughed. “That’ll be good. She’s also a bigot,
did I mention that? She’ll tr eat you lik e the maid.”
“I don’t mind. I am the maid, in a way .”
“You’re not the maid. Y ou’re my . . .”
“Friend?” L upe said. “Is that har d to say?”“No, it’s not har d. Yes, my friend.”
“What day is she coming?”
Jonathan put his head in his hands again. “Thursday .”
“The bingo club meets at Grandmother’s that day . We’ll
work something out. I’ll help you—”
“The bingo club?”
“All the old people in the neighbor hood,” L upe said as
she walk ed out. On Thursday, Jonathan paced back and forth in fr ont of
his fr ont window . “Lupe, I hear someone—come look.”
Lupe emer ged fr om the kitchen with a tray of snacks. “What’s that?”
“Cheese nachos, the specialty of Grandma.” She look ed
out the window . “It’s a taxi, but it’s not your mother .”
“How do you know? “It’s a woman, but she’s tiny, and she’s wearing some
kind of fur, and it looks lik e she’s ar guing with the driver .”
“Oh, God. It’s her!”
“I don’t see how someone so tall as you could come out
of someone so tiny .”
“Well, don’t ask her . I’m sur e it’s a gory story .”
He tur ned to L upe. “I can’t believe how anxious I feel. This is just my mother!”
“Mothers ar e very str ong inﬂuences.”
“How do you know so much at eleven?”
She shrugged as the bell rang. “I just tur ned twelve.”
“Buzz her in,” Jonathan said in a hopeless voice. Lupe buzzed her in twice, and they stood listening to the
click of high heels as she climbed the stairs. L upe opened
the door, and they stood waiting. Jonathan’s mother, Belle,
stopped at the top, panting dramatically . “No elevator . What a surprise .”As she br eathed, she took in L upe and Jonathan. L upe
could tell by her mottled hands and sunk en neck that Belle
was near her grandmother’s age, but something had been
done to her face so that the skin look ed pulled and polished. “Is this my baby? Is this my blind baby?”
She rushed to Jonathan and wrapped her ar ms ar ound
him, knocking him back into the apartment. She burst into
tears. “ How could this be? How could you lose your sight so
young?”
Jonathan’s face was contorted with feeling. He patted her
shoulder and dislodged her fr om his neck. “It was all a long
time ago, Mother . I’m used to it by now .”
“Well, I’m not! I haven’t been allowed to see you—” Her
tears suddenly tur ned oﬀ as if with a spigot as she eyed
Lupe. “Is this your maid?”
“I told you,” Jonathan said to L upe. “No, this is my friend
Lupe. She’s been a r eal help to me.”
“A child? I hope you’r e not having an inappr opriate
relationship with her .”
“No, Mother . Of course not. Unless dusting my apartment
is inappr opriate to you. Come in and sit down.”
Belle sashayed in, looking ar ound the apartment with
clear distaste. “This is so small!”
“It’s suﬃcient for me. Can I get you anything? L upe
brought some wonderful hors d’oeuvr es.”
Belle sat down gingerly on the sofa. “I’ll have some plain
water, if you can spar e it. I’m watching my weight.”
Jonathan sat acr oss fr om her . “Well, how’ve you been? How’s F ather?”
Belle sniﬀed. “If you wer e really curious, you could have
contacted us.”
“I had some issues I was handling.”
“Yes, I can imagine. And how’s your friend—that Geor gie
person?”
“He died years ago . I told you that. All my good friends
died ar ound the same time.”Belle shudder ed. “From that ghastly virus. But I always
said, if you live a degenerate—”
Lupe inter rupted. “Mr . Jonathan has many new friends
here in the building. They’r e getting together today right
across the hall.” She opened the door, rushed acr oss, and
swung open her grandpar ents’ door . The apartment was full
of every old-timer in the neighbor hood—all sitting on folding
chairs, all playing bingo . “¡Hola!”  several called out. Belle r olled her eyes. “ Those  are your friends? They’r e
ancient! And speaking Spanish! So now you hang out with
childr en and elderly illegal aliens?”
Jonathan was staring at the ﬂoor; a vein in his for ehead
had appear ed that L upe had never seen befor e.
Despite her pr otestations, Belle took a bite of the nachos
and soon had polished oﬀ half the dish, while gossiping
nonstop. “ And Sara Evans—you know she was the last one
of us besides me who wasn’t divor ced—well, as soon as her
decree went thr ough, she found out she had brain cancer! And not the curable kind either . I said—”
“I remember Sara, vaguely . She had that ter rible plastic
surgery on her ears.”
“That’s the one. Y ou should see her now—her eyelids
look melted, lik e candle wax. She had this new therapy
wher e they heat your skin and supposedly tighten it. But I
say, give me an old-fashioned face-lif t any day, rather than
these newfangled pr ocedur es. They never do what they say
they will. And the cost—”
“How’s F ather’s heart?”
Thrown oﬀ track, Belle shook her head and look ed grim. “Not good. He doesn’t eat right. He can’t contr ol his own fat
intak e. The man is eighty -ﬁve years old and completely set
in his ways, so I can’t tell him what to do . Just lik e you kids. Speaking of which, I never  hear fr om your sister . When I
think of the money we spent on her education, I ﬁnd the
ingratitude stunning. Not that I e xpect to be paid back, but Ido expect a certain level of r espect. And your education—
why, we’d be millionair es if we’d—”
“I believe my art-school tuition paid oﬀ,” Jonathan said
archly. “That’s a matter of opinion,” Belle sniﬀed. Lupe, picking up ar ound them, said, “Mr . Jonathan’s art is
very famous.”
“Well, no one I know ever hears of him anymor e.” Belle
looked at L upe suspiciously . “Are you sur e ther e isn’t
something inappr opriate going on with you two?”
“Mr. Jonathan, what does inappr opriate  mean?” L upe
asked. “In this case, it means a demented mind.”
Belle laughed. “That’s rich, coming fr om you.”
“Mother,” Jonathan inter rupted, “how long do you think
it’s been since I’ve seen you?”
Belle rubbed her temple. “ Oh, I don’t know . Many years . . .”
“Well, appar ently it hasn’t been long enough,” Jonathan
said. His mother star ed at him with her usual unsympathetic
eyes. “I let you come visit, against my better instincts. But I’ve
been right to avoid you. Y ou’re full of negativity, and I just
can’t aﬀor d to be ar ound your ener gy anymor e—”
“My energy? Well, I’m sor ry. I’m simply being myself .”
“I know it’s who you ar e. But who you ar e and who I am
are not compatible. So let’s leave it at that. I have to ask
you to leave.”
“Leave? Are you serious? My plane doesn’t go for hours. What am I supposed to do?”
“Yes, I’m serious. Ther e’s a mall nearby . I’m sur e you can
ﬁnd something . . .”
Belle opened her mouth and then shut it again. She
picked up her purse, stood, and look ed ar ound the
apartment one mor e time. “Y our father war ned me thiswasn’t a good idea. I should have listened. But I won’t tell
him how far you’ve fallen. He wouldn’t believe it.”
“Tell him whatever you wish, Mother . He’s the one I
would’ve lik ed to see. I’ll call you a cab.”
“Don’t bother .”
“Lupe, would you help my mother out?”
“I don’t need help fr om either one of you,” she said,
looking nar rowly at L upe. She walk ed out and slammed the door . “¡Hola!”  another bingo player called out as she huﬀed by . “Hola,  yourself,” she said, clomping down the stairs. “I’ve
never been so mortiﬁed in my life.”
Jonathan stood by the window until the sound of her was
gone. “Mr. Jonathan, ar e you ok ay?”
“I didn’t think it was possible that she’d be worse than I
remember ed, but she is. I was hoping I had e xaggerated her
in my mind.”
“She has her good points, I think,” L upe said weakly . “Name one.”
Lupe was silent for too long. “ Her purse was nice; also
her shoes.”
Jonathan laughed. “I think you pr obably should leave me
alone for a while.”
Lupe lef t the apartment and shut the door behind her . OceanofPDF .comCHAPTER 9
The ne xt day Jonathan r eturned to the apartment fr om
his monthly doctor’s visit to hear salsa music blaring fr om
the upstairs window . He climbed the stairs scowling and
then stopped on the landing. The music wasn’t coming fr om
the Saldanas’ apartment, as he’d supposed, but fr om his. The door wasn’t even closed the entir e way . He walk ed in
and hear d what sounded lik e feet scuﬄing. “Lupe! What’s going on in her e?”
The music was lower ed. “Sor ry, I didn’t think you would
be home so soon. I was using the music to help get rid of
any bad ener gies. R emember I told you what Grandpa said
—about music and love?”
“And what did your grandpa tell you about police
complaints?”
“It wasn’t that loud. How was your doctor’s
appointment?” “The same. I’m always the same.”
“No, you’r e getting better . I can feel it.”
“You don’t get better fr om what I have.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She tur ned up the music again, not as loud as befor e.
“Lupe—”
“You don’t get enough e xercise, for one thing,” she said. “Come on, let’s dance. I was just practicing. F ollow me.” She
grabbed his hand and began pulling him acr oss the r oom. “I’ll lead. Y ou be the follower .”
“Lupe, I can’t see. I can’t dance with you.”“Okay, so just hold my hand so you can feel what I’m
doing.”
“I feel what you’r e doing—you’r e driving me crazy .”
She k ept hold of Jonathan’s hand as she moved ar ound
him. “I feel lik e a maypole,” he said. “What?”
“Never mind.”
The song seemed to go on for ever, and when it ﬁnally
ended, Jonathan let go . “I’m e xhausted just being ar ound
you.”
“Ther e’s one mor e,” she said, and sur e enough, the
music changed. “ Cha-cha!”
Lupe took his hand again and began dancing str enuously
around him. Jonathan said, “ Geor gie used to love the cha-cha. He
always tried to get me to do it with him.”
“So you didn’t dance even when you could see?”
“No, it’s just not my thing. It’s so . . . I don’t know . . . public.”
“So, what’s wr ong with that?” L upe was panting now . “It’s a very good work out for your body . For your spirit, too .”
The apartment door had swung open, and L upe’s
grandmother and several neighbors wer e standing out in
the hall, watching. When the song ended, ther e was a r ound of applause
from the hallway, startling them both. Jonathan said, “I didn’t know ther e was an audience. We’ll have to char ge ne xt time.”
Lupe laughed and fanned the air with her hand. “It’s hot
in her e. I better go now .”
The doorbell rang later in the week, and Jonathan pushed
the buzzer, e xpecting a delivery .But when he opened the door, he stopped short and
stood silently for a long moment. “Carla? What is this, old home week?”
“I thought you wer e blind. How’d you know it was me?”
“It’s a family scent. Mother was just her e earlier in the
week, so it’s still fr esh in my nose—or mind, or whatever .”
“I hear d. She called me immediately, in hysterics of
course.”
“Who’s ther e with you?”
“How’d you know—?” Carla smiled. “Y our nephew, my
son. R odney, this is my br other .”
“I didn’t know you had a son.”
“Two, actually . The other, T eddy, is in college.”
Rodney stepped forwar d, slender and pale faced, and
gave Jonathan his hand. Jonathan stood holding it for
several minutes, and a slow smile gr ew on his face. “I’m glad to meet you, r eally. You’re one of the few living
creatur es who possesses some of my DNA .”
“Don’t scar e him, Jonathan,” Carla said. “ Can we come
in?”
“Of course.”
They moved inside and sat down in the living r oom. “So,” Carla said. “Yes, so . Why ar e you her e?”
“Blunt as usual. W ell, hearing Mother talk about you, I
couldn’t get you out of my mind. I always think of you as so
successful and busy . But fr om what she said, you’r e alone so
much, with your . . . condition—”
“You mean my blindness.”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s true, I am alone a lot. And I’m actually glad
you came, Carla. T ell me what you’ve been doing with
yourself all this time.”
“Oh, not that much. I got mar ried. I had the boys. I got
divor ced.” She laughed. “ An old story .”
“Rodney, how old ar e you?”“Nineteen.”
“Truth is, I thought it might be good for R od to meet you. Actually, he r eminds me a lot of you. He lik es design and
fashion and all that. And he deﬁnitely doesn’t get that fr om
me.”
“How about his father?”
Carla laughed again and waved her hand. When she
realized he couldn’t see her, she said, “ Hardly. He was a
sports fanatic. And all my work life has been in banks and
bookk eeping, so anything cr eative is deﬁnitely not coming
from me.”
The boy blushed and look ed down at his shoes. “Well, R odney, I have all kinds of design and fashion
books, and you’r e welcome to bor row them.”
Rodney made a small sound of assent. He seemed
perpetually embar rassed. “Why don’t you look ar ound? Ther e’s pr obably stuﬀ you’d
ﬁnd inter esting.”
Rodney got up and wander ed into the foyer lined with
books; Carla clear ed her thr oat. “The truth is, Jonathan, Mother and I still don’t get along
either . She thought my divor ce was scandalous, and the
boys can’t stand being ar ound her . I’m 51 years old, and
besides Daddy, you’r e the only close r elative I have.”
“You know who your voice sounds lik e? Aunt Mar garet,”
Jonathan said. “Oh, God, r eally?”
“Yes, isn’t that weir d? You know, the most memorable
visual image I have of you is fr om some fair we went to
when we wer e little, and Mother dr essed you in a dotted-
swiss sailor suit and patent-leather shoes. It must have been
around Easter .”
Carla laughed. “I r emember that, too . Another of her
stupid coor dinated outﬁts. That was always her main
concer n, whether our outﬁts matched.”“Do you mind if I feel your face?” Jonathan ask ed. “I’m
curious.”
“No, go ahead.”
Jonathan got up and ran his ﬁngers over his sister’s face. “I’m old now,” she said. “Yeah, well, so am I.”
“Actually, you look better than I was e xpecting.”
“Thanks—I guess,” Jonathan said. “So, as I was saying, I’d lik e it if we could establish some
kind of r elationship, if you’r e inter ested. I don’t mean
anything heavy—just be in touch, you know? I only live
about 20 minutes away .”
“I thought you wer e in Seattle.”
She laughed. “That was years ago .”
Jonathan sighed. “Y ou know, I’d lik e it, too . I’m never
going to be able to get along with Mother, although I would
like to see Dad.”
“Maybe I can ar range something.”
“That would be gr eat.” Suddenly Jonathan’s eyes ﬁlled
with tears. “I—”
Carla was at his side. “ Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s ok ay.”
Rodney was in the doorway . “What’s wr ong?”
Carla stood. “Uncle Jonathan just got emotional.” She
wiped her own eyes. “I guess we’d better go . Can I have
your number?”
“Sure—just tak e it oﬀ the phone.”
Carla copied the number, then hugged Jonathan. “I’ll be
in touch. I’m glad I came.”
“Me, too . I’m glad to meet you, R odney . Come again
whenever you want.”
Lupe was walking in as they lef t.
“Who is that, Mr . Jonathan?”
“My sister and her gay son.”
“Really?”“Yes. I don’t even know if she r ealizes it. But he does. W ill
wonders never cease?”
“Does that mean you’r e glad about it?”
“Yes, I’m glad. I’m not sur e why, but I am.”
Jonathan was setting the table with an antique bone
china tea set when L upe walk ed thr ough the door with a bag
of groceries. “I got everything you wanted—tea, cookies . . .”
“What kind?”
“Milano .”
“Excellent. How about lemons?”
“Yes, those, too .”
“Well, get those out, and I’ll show you how I lik e them
sliced.”
In ﬁfteen minutes, they wer e sitting together in the
dining r oom, having for mal tea. The table was cover ed with
a linen tablecloth that L upe had ir oned just so, following
Jonathan’s instructions. The matching napkins wer e folded
and star ched. The tea set was edged with gold and
embossed with blue pansies. Ther e was a vase of fr esh
hydrangeas and peonies in the center of the table. L upe
kept walking in and out of the r oom, admiring the look of
everything. “This looks so pr etty, I feel lik e we shouldn’t use it. I wish
you could see!”
“I can see it in my mind, as you would say . I had tea lik e
this many times befor e I was blind.”
Jonathan pour ed with gr eat car e, with L upe strategically
moving the items he needed closer . “So, how many sugars do you tak e?”
“Umm . . . two? I’ve never had tea lik e this befor e—just
iced tea.”“I ﬁnd that impossible to believe. Anyhow, Geor gie took
two—occasionally thr ee.”
“Because he was sweet. How many do you tak e?”
“None. Just lemon.”
“Ha! That’s why you’r e so sour .”
Jonathan gave her a mean face, then pour ed her some
tea. “So let’s hear mor e about this quinceañera  dress you
keep talking about.”
Lupe’s face lit up as she began talking in a rush. “I know
just what I want. I even dr eam about it. F irst of all, I don’t
like strapless dr esses, so I want little thin satin straps and
embr oidery on the corpino .”
“What’s a corpino? ”
Annoyed at being inter rupted, L upe said, “The bodice. You don’t know anything, do you? Then on the pick-up skirt,
lace and beading. I’m still not sur e yet about the color or the
fabric. But it should be pale, because I think it should look
like a wedding dr ess.”
“I have a friend who owns a fabric stor e. I used to buy
everything fr om him when I had a tailor . He gets fabric fr om
all over the world—the best. W e could go over and look
sometime.”
“Could we? When?”
“Whenever you want—”
“How about tomor row?”
“Sure, but won’t styles change in thr ee years?”
“Quinceañera  styles never change. Always very elegant. Some girls even wear a tiara.”
Jonathan snorted, and tea came out of his nose. “ A tiara? Now, that’s tack y.”
Lupe smiled conspiratorially . “I know . I’m not sur e about
the veil either . Do you think I should wear one or not?”
Jonathan said, “I don’t think so . Veils ar e to hide behind. But you’r e pretty. I told you.”“You’re the only one who thinks so . The girls at school—
especially this one named Brie—they tr eat me lik e I’m ugly .”
“Brie? She’s named af ter a cheese? What the hell does
she know anyway? She sounds lik e a little snot. Describe her
to me.”
“Well, she’s perfect looking, I mean for our school. L ong
blonde hair with diﬀer ent shades of str eaks in it, pulled back
in a low ponytail. And this little nose, that’s pushed up—
what do you call that?”
“Pig?”
“No pug, I think. And her skin is perfect and tanned even
when ther e’s no sun, and she and her mom dr ess just alik e,
in short skirts and tight tops that show their stomachs. Plus,
they’r e rich.”
“I hate both of them alr eady. They sound dr eadful.”
“Under neath, I think Brie might be all right. Anyhow, I know I’m going to be her friend.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because every day I close my eyes and mak e a little
pictur e in my head of us as friends.”
“And you think that’s going to work?”
“I know it will.”
“I don’t understand why you’d even bother with someone
like this Brie person. I bet you’r e prettier than she is anyway . You’re going to be what they used to call ‘the belle of the
ball.’”
“Does that mean pr etty?”
“It means pr etty and . . . gracious.”
Lupe smiled. “I lik e having tea.”
“You know who used to love it when my friend and I had
tea? Beau.”
“Your dog?”
Jonathan nodded. “Did you still have him af ter your friend died?”
“He died thr ee months later . I ﬁgur ed he might; he was
so close to Geor gie. One day he stopped eating, and thenthe ne xt day, he wouldn’t get out of bed. Soon af ter that, he
left me, just lik e my friend. It was just about the worst day I
ever had. Then it was my tur n.”
“Your tur n?”
“My friend, my dog, my sight, my car eer.” He snapped
his ﬁngers. “ Gone in a heartbeat. But I still have this lovely
tea set, which I haven’t used in years. And I still mak e
money oﬀ my prints, thank God.”
“Do you still paint pictur es in your head?” L upe ask ed. “What do you mean?”
“Do you still imagine painting them?”
“No. I don’t see anything in my head.”
“Maybe that’s the pr oblem. If you would—”
Jonathan inter rupted, his e xpression dark. “ Oh, I see. It’s
my fault. I’m awful. I’m doing something wr ong. That’s why
I’m blind, too, I suppose.”
“Don’t say things lik e that. Ther e’s something in the air
that hears what we say .”
“Wher e do you get these har ebrained ideas?”
Lupe ignor ed him and leaned forwar d. “They’r e little
molecules. When we say something, it gets r epeated to all
the other molecules in the world. And they work together to
make what we say happen to us.”
“Well, thank them for making me blind.”
“If you paint it or say it, then it happens,” L upe
continued, undaunted. “That’s why you shouldn’t swear or
say negative wor ds. And pictur es in our head ar e even
stronger . We paint the futur e with them.”
Jonathan was silent for a long moment. “That is the most
ridiculous thing I’ve ever hear d.”
“Well, I believe it,” L upe said, standing. “ Plus, you’r e not
an awful person. An awful person wouldn’t have come to my
concert.”
Befor e he could r espond, she walk ed out the door .OceanofPDF .comCHAPTER 10
The ne xt afternoon, Jonathan was waiting for her at the
doorway . “Okay, we’r e going to look at fabric today . I called my
friend.”
“I thought you wer e mad at me.”
“I can’t stay mad at you for long, unfortunately . C’mon. I
already called the cab.”
William was waiting at the curb, his engine running. “Hi, W illiam,” Jonathan said as they got in. “We want to go to W ide W orld of F abric. Do you know
wher e that is?”
“Sure do. Hola, Lupe. How’s your grandpa?”
“Okay for an old man—that’s what he always says.”
“Good, good.”
William stepped on the gas, thr owing them back into the
seat. They ar rived at a stor efront with a display window
crowded with wedding gowns and pr om dr esses. L upe was
immediately transﬁx ed. “Ooh, look at that pink one. I love it,” she said as they
got out. “I was going to have you wait, W illiam, but we may be
here all week,” Jonathan said. “I’ll call you for a pick up.”
William saluted. “Ther e he is!” A portly middle-aged man with a
measuring tape ar ound his neck emer ged fr om the back.“How ar e you, Johnny? It’s so gr eat to see you.”
“Leo.” Jonathan bent down and kissed the little man
European style, on both cheeks. “This is my friend L upe,
who I was telling you about. She wants to look at fabric for a
special dr ess.”
“¡Muy buena  Hello ther e, my dear,” L eo said, taking her
hand. “I’ve pulled a selection to show you.”
He led them into a r oom wher e ther e wer e dozens of
fabric samples ar rayed in a rainbow of colors. “What’s this dr ess for?”
“My quinceañera. ”
“A very big day . Well, we have everything, including
patter ns and fabric galor e.”
“I’ve never seen so much material! So beautiful. And look
at the pearls and sequins!”
Lupe’s eyes glowed as she walk ed in a cir cle, touching
each fabric as if it wer e gold. As she ﬁnger ed each one, L eo chanted the type of fabric:
“Lamé, chiﬀon, satin, silk, tulle, or ganza, taﬀeta, lace.”
To Lupe, the names wer e like a song. “Oh, I love them all, but this one’s the best.” She stopped
befor e the palest blue chiﬀon. Then she e xamined beads
and embr oidery webbed in a silvery thr ead. “Some girls
wear bright colors, but I want it to be very pale, lik e a
wedding gown.”
“You’ll have a wedding someday, too,” Jonathan said. “I don’t know,” L upe said. “Well, why wouldn’t you?”
“You didn’t have one.”
“Well, I’m diﬀer ent.”
“Maybe I’m diﬀer ent, too .”
Jonathan laughed. “Let’s stick with this at the moment. L et Leo drape it
around you, and you can see how the shade is with your
coloring.”Lupe went into a ﬁtting r oom with L eo and came back out
with a length of fabric wrapped ar ound her . Lupe stationed
herself in fr ont of Jonathan and waited. “I’m her e,” she said. “I know .” He was quiet a moment. “Ther e are times when
I really wish I could see.”
“Me, too .”
“Look at yourself and describe it.”
Lupe stood looking at herself in the thr ee-way mir ror. She
turned in all dir ections. “I need you to help me.”
“No, you don’t. Y ou can tell me for yourself . Ask L eo if
you’r e not sur e.”
Leo said, “She looks very beautiful in this color . We call it
cloud blue; it has a little shimmer that r eally complements
her skin. I r ecommend it.”
“Ther e you go . Do you want to buy it now?”
“I think I do . I have to see if I’ve saved up enough
money .”
“Remember, you don’t need it for a while,” Jonathan said. “I know, but I have to plan it. It’s my most important
futur e event. I have to see it in my mind.”
“Leo, let her see some patter ns, then ﬁgur e out how
much it’s going to set us back.”
Leo said, “ Let me measur e you, L upe. And we can pick
the style you want, and add some for your gr owth.”
Jonathan sat in a straight-back chair and waited for them
to come out of the dr essing r oom. Lupe’s voice was cr estfallen. “I’m $380 short,” she
explained when they r eturned. “I thought I had enough, but
it tak es a lot of material. I guess I’ll have to wait.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll pay for it, L eo.”
“Mr. Jonathan, you can’t—”
“Who says?”“My grandmother will—”
“I’ll e xplain to your grandmother .”
“No, I—”
“Lupe, we’r e buying this. L eo, wrap up everything and
send it to my apartment.”
“Thank you,” L upe said gravely . “But I’ll pay you back. I
swear to you, I will. And I’ll work double time fr om now on.”
“Please don’t,” Jonathan said. “Y ou’ll drive me nuts.”
Jonathan was listening to the news later that evening
when his phone rang. “Yes?”
A long pause, and then: “ Johnny? Son?”
Jonathan sank into the chair beside the phone. He felt as
if the bones had been r emoved fr om his body . “Are you still ther e?” the voice ask ed. “Dad,” he ﬁnally said. “ After all this time. I can’t believe
how much family stuﬀ is happening this week.”
“Well, that’s pr obably my fault. Y our mother told me your
number was unlisted and that you’d r equested that none of
us call you.”
“What? That’s not true.”
“I should have investigated. I didn’t need to tak e her
word.”
Jonathan sighed, and then fell silent again. He felt as if
his mouth couldn’t pr oduce the right wor ds. “How ar e you? Mother said your heart wasn’t gr eat.”
“Well, I’m eighty -ﬁve. That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to
hear about you while ther e’s still time.”
“Ther e was a time when I’d have had a lot to r eport, but
not anymor e,” Jonathan said. “ As you know, I’m blind—and
I’m pr etty much alone her e.
I can’t paint or do much else. It’s not very pr etty.”His father said, “I know what you mean. I can’t do much
either . I get angina whenever I e xert myself . Plus, Belle
keeps me on a short tether .” He sniﬀed again. “I hear you’r e
living right near the Mission District.”
“Yes, I’m in it, r eally. Most of my neighbors ar e Hispanic. It’s been ﬁne, r eally.”
“I haven’t been over ther e in years. Y our mother’s scar ed
of it, though I know she came to see you.” He stopped and
clear ed his thr oat. “Is ther e something special you called to say, Dad?”
“I guess I called to say that I’m sor ry I wasn’t a better
father . You wer e so diﬀer ent, and your mother just couldn’t
handle it, so I let her set the tone, lik e I’ve let her tak e the
lead in everything. I’ve spent so many years letting her tell
me how to feel, and now my life’s almost over . I should have
been mor e help to you, especially when you lost your sight. But one thing I can do is look af ter you in my will. I want you
to know that when I’m gone, you’ll get a handsome
settlement—”
“Dad, I don’t want anything—”
“No, this is what I want.”
“Really. I should have given you money . I’m the one who
made money .”
“Jonathan, no ar gument. Y our mother doesn’t know, and
she doesn’t need to know . I work ed for 40 years at a job I
hated; now I’m going to do what I want.”
They fell silent again. “Do you want to get together sometime?” Jonathan
managed. “I don’t think I better,” his father answer ed sof tly. “It
would be too har d on me—my heart, lik e I was telling you.”
“Yes. I don’t know how str ong mine is either .”
They both br eathed in and out. “Thanks, Dad. R eally.”
Suddenly the phone went dead.Jonathan held the r eceiver for a few moments longer and
then hung up. Later that week, as L upe r ode her bik e to the gr ocery
store, she stopped suddenly and did a double tak e. Brie’s
Victorian house had a for sale sign on the fr ont lawn. L upe
stood ther e for so long that the lace curtains opened. Brie’s
mother peek ed out, and then pulled them shut again tightly . Back on her bik e, Lupe found herself caught in the
middle of a funeral pr ocession. No matter how har d she
tried, she couldn’t get out of it; she was stuck behind the
hearse with a cask et visible thr ough the tinted windows,
followed by a carload of elderly women, openly weeping. Since the pr ocession str etched as far she could see, she
got oﬀ her bik e and walk ed in the pr ocession, head bowed. When the line of traﬃc tur ned right towar d the cemetery,
she got on her bik e again and r ode straight ahead. The ne xt day, Jonathan was lying on the couch listening
to the news as L upe put away gr oceries. “Mr. Jonathan, do you ever go to the cemetery wher e
your friend is buried?”
“How do you know my friend is buried? He could have
been cr emated.”
“I don’t know, just guessing.”
“Well, the answer is no .”
“No what?”
“I’ve never been to the cemetery . I can’t see, in case you
haven’t noticed. It was too painful to go right af ter he died,
and now it’s too late.”
“How about if I tak e you?”
“Are you going to ride me ther e on your bik e?”
“No, on the bus. I know the public transportation. I could
go with you.”Jonathan was silent for a long time. “ Did you get mor e
Milano cookies today?”
“Yes, on sale. T wo for one.”
“Good.” He was silent again. “I’ll think about it, ok ay?”
OceanofPDF .comCHAPTER 11
Lupe was in the girl’s bathr oom stall when she over heard
snatches of conversation fr om two popular girls who wer e
washing their hands. “I hear d Brie’s dad got ﬁr ed for doing something illegal at
work. I don’t know what. But my mom said it was pr etty
bad.”
“That’s why they’r e selling the house?”
“Yeah, plus I hear d they have to move into an apartment . Can you imagine? I’d be so embar rassed . . .”
When L upe emer ged fr om the stall, the two girls
clammed up and dried their hands, avoiding her eye. Suddenly, Brie enter ed the r oom. “Hey,” she said, somewhat tentatively, as the two girls
brushed by her in silence, “ar e you two going to Cooper’s?”
The girls ignor ed her question as they lef t.
Brie’s face fell, and she stepped into a stall and lock ed
the door . Lupe stood a moment studying Brie’s feet under the stall;
then she washed her hands and lef t.
Lupe disembark ed from a metr opolitan bus and waited at
the bottom as a long ar m extended. She r eached up and
took Jonathan’s hand as he got oﬀ the bus behind her .Jonathan used a cane and held on to her ar m as they
walked. He was dr essed in a pale linen suit and an elegant
hat. L upe was wearing the tr opical dr ess she had wor n at
her choir concert. They walk ed down a str eet, which gr ew
progressively less cr owded and became semir esidential. On
the right stood a sign—WOODL AWN CEMETER Y. They walk ed together under a stone ar ch, and L upe
looked at a badly photographed map. “Section P, r ow ﬁve.”
Jonathan didn’t speak, but k ept holding her ar m. They
walked silently thr ough r ow af ter row of monuments. Lupe swallowed. She had never been in such a huge
cemetery befor e. She found it unsettling that each of these
monuments r epresented a human life that had come and
gone. “Ther e’s so many—as far as the eye can see,” she said. “Tell me about some of them.”
“Ther e are a lot of tablets . . . you know, just monuments
with the names drilled in,” L upe said. “Read me one.”
“Okay. ‘Beloved br other and husband, Marvin R ednick,
1925–1995. R est in P eace.’”
“Original,” Jonathan said. “‘We love you, Mother, Sally Dunn, 1909–1999.’ That’s a
long life.”
“Too long, if you ask me.”
“Here’s section P .”
They tur ned. “These ar e mor e fancy . Ther e’s mor e angels and all.”
“I’m not surprised.”
As they walk ed along, ther e was an odd lack of human
sound, only lawnmowers and bir dsong, and the sweet scent
of ﬂower bouquets str ewn over the most r ecent graves, the
ones L upe avoided. Soon they wer e sur rounded by monuments of angels and
weeping women. L upe stopped stock-still. She had locatedGeor gie’s grave; ne xt to it was another monument with the
date lef t blank:
Jonathan Langley, 1956–  “Here it is,” she said quietly . “Wher e?”
“Right in fr ont of us.”
He walk ed forwar d and touched the headstone, a
weeping woman, her hair thr own over her face, bent in
lament. His ﬁngers e xamined the stone. “This feels lik e what I wanted.”
“You pick ed it out?”
“I had it commissioned. I saw it in pr ogress, but not when
it was ﬁnished.” He paused. “W ould you r ead some other
names?”
Lupe look ed at the sur rounding ar ea. “Okay. Arthur Hill,
Lee Jones, Bradley F oster, Lar ry Jones, P eter Simon . . .”
Jonathan bowed his head. “My friends. They’r e all her e
together . I didn’t r ealize.”
Lupe was silent. Jonathan said, “W ould you mind leaving me alone for a
while? Just tak e a walk and come back.”
“Will you be ok ay?”
“Of course I’ll be ok ay. I can just sit down somewher e
here.”
“Here’s a bench.” She steer ed him towar d a stone bench
nearby, and he situated himself facing Geor gie’s monument. Lupe walk ed slowly and r eluctantly ar ound the cemetery . She sat for a while under a tr ee, closed her eyes, and began
murmuring in Spanish. A gr oundsk eeper dr ove by and
looked at her suspiciously . He stopped his riding mower . “Are you ok ay?”
Lupe opened her eyes. “Y es.”
He moved on, and she closed her eyes again. When she opened them again, she look ed at her watch
and r eturned to the section wher e she’d lef t Jonathan. He’d tak en oﬀ his sunglasses and hat and was leaning to
one side. It wasn’t until she moved closer that she r ealizedthat he had been talking, conversationally, to the
monument. “Mr. Jonathan.”
He look ed up, r ed-faced. It was the ﬁrst time she’d seen
his eyes this closely . They wer e milk y white, ﬁx ed, and ﬁlled
with liquid. “I told you to leave me alone.”
“The ne xt bus comes in twenty minutes, and then ther e
isn’t another one for an hour .”
“Okay,” he said brusquely . “Help me up.” He still seemed
annoyed. “I didn’t mean to inter rupt.”
“You always inter rupt, L upe. That’s what you’r e best at. That’s all you’ve done since I met you.”
In physical education class, a gr oup of miserable-looking
girls, including L upe, stood outside the school in their ill-
ﬁtting gym costumes. The phys ed teacher, a block y middle-aged woman, was
dividing up the girls into teams. “Okay, girls, I know soccer isn’t easy, but let’s try a
game.”
The girls moaned. “Alisa, you head up one team; L upe, you’ve got the other . Pick your members—eleven each. Alisa, pick the ﬁrst ﬁve.”
Alisa, one of the most popular girls, called out several of
her cr owd. “ Heather, Ashley, Laura, Jeanie, T anya.”
She pointedly ignor ed Brie, who stood apart, looking
extremely uncomfortable. When it was L upe’s tur n, she look ed ar ound a moment,
and then said, “ Brie, Lily, Sandra, Lisa, K aren.”
Brie look ed relieved but slightly embar rassed as she
walked over to L upe’s side. Once the game began, L upe came alive on the ﬁeld. She
was the only girl on her team who seemed to r emember therules. The r est of them wer e bumbling and confused. She
scored one goal, then another, assisting Brie whenever she
falter ed. The girls on the other team wer e even worse—out of
shape and disoriented. One of them tripped and fell; one
collided with another player . Lupe continued to pr opel the
ball towar d her opponents’ goal, passing to Brie. “Come on, L upe—one mor e and we’ve got it!” one of the
girls whisper ed. Lupe scor ed, and the team e xploded with cheers. The teacher blew her whistle. “ Okay, gr eat job, L upe! Y ou
play lik e a pr o.”
Lupe’s team cluster ed ar ound her . Brie ask ed admiringly, “ How’d you get to be so good at
soccer?”
By now L upe was br eathless and leaning over; it was
clear that she had over done it in her zeal. “W e used to play
in Me xico all the time.”
When L upe enter ed the library the ne xt afternoon, all the
computers wer e tak en again. Brie was sitting at one of
them. This time, when she saw L upe, she began gathering her
papers. “I’m done—you can have this,” she said. “Oh, that’s all right—” L upe began. “No, I mean it. I’m ﬁnished.”
Lupe could see that Brie had been on a social networking
site, pepper ed with photographs and dialogue. “Do you want me to leave it on F acebook?” Brie ask ed
her. “No, I’m not on that,” L upe said. “I don’t know enough
people.”Brie consider ed this as she stood holding her books in
front of her . “You should try it. If people see you’r e on, they might
friend you.”
Lupe tried to hide her shock at Brie’s cor dial tone. “ Okay. Maybe I’ll try it.”
Brie walk ed out, and L upe sat down and began doing her
homework. When she got home that night, L upe walk ed dir ectly into
the kitchen wher e her grandmother was cooking rice. “Grandma, I know I ask ed you once befor e, but do we
have enough money to buy a laptop computer now?”
Mrs. Saldana tur ned to her with a serious face. “ Lupe,
you know we don’t. W e bar ely have the money to buy food.”
“I keep imagining we have mor e money, but it’s not
working.”
“Well, keep at it,” her grandmother said, stir -ring. “Nothing happens over night. Ask Mr . Jonathan if you can use
his computer .”
Lupe rapped on his apartment door and let herself in. “Hey, Mr . Jonathan, can I use your computer for a
minute?”
“Go ahead.”
She sat down at his desk, in fr ont of his big monitor . “It’s got the audio component tur ned on, so I’ll be able to
hear what you’r e doing.”
“I don’t car e. It’s nothing dirty or anything.”
She typed for a while, and the wor ds This is F acebook
were intoned. Ne xt, silence. “You’re getting on that stupid site? I don’t believe it.”
“Just for a minute.”
She sat ther e in silence. Then ther e wer e mor e wor ds:
Brie Heartland r equests that you be her friend.After a beat:
Becca Zolinsk y requests that you be her friend. Lee Hanley r equests that you be her friend. Danny Miller r equests that you be his friend. “Wow,” L upe whisper ed, as she pushed agree for each
one. They all wer e students in her class. “Did I hear the name Brie Heartland in conjunction with
the ter m friend ?” Jonathan ask ed. “Yes,” L upe said. “Y ou did.”
OceanofPDF .comCHAPTER 12
The ne xt day, Jonathan lay on the couch listening to the
radio, a pensive look on his face, while L upe rattled ar ound
in the kitchen. “Mr. Jonathan, I for got to tell you, I can’t come tomor row. I have a test.”
He lower ed the radio . “That’s ok ay. I don’t need you all
the time.”
He reached back again to tur n up the radio, and a piece
of paper ﬂutter ed down onto his face. “What’s this?” He
touched the wall and felt another one. “ And this?” He felt
them gingerly . The wall was cover ed with what felt lik e Post-
it notes. “Why ar e ther e pieces of paper all over my wall?”
Lupe came to the doorway . “It’s just an e xtra thing I do .”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I know you don’t have good pictur es in your head
or say positive things about yourself, so I do it for you. I put
them ther e because that’s wher e you sit.”
Jonathan sat up and felt up and down the wall. “Ther e’s mor e on the bathr oom mir ror.”
“Oh, for God’s sak e.” Jonathan stomped into the
bathr oom, clearly annoyed. “What do these stupid things
say?”
“Diﬀer ent things. Only good lies befor e me. I’m going to
get my sight back. Or I create my own futur e. Things lik e
that. But most of them say I’m going to paint a lot mor e
beautiful pictur es.”“Lupe, I’m not getting my sight back, no matter what
kind of mumbo jumbo you hang on my walls.”
“Don’t say that. The molecules will hear you.”
Jonathan gr ew incr easingly angry . “I don’t believe  in your
molecules, ok ay? And I’m getting tir ed of hearing about
them all the time. Bad things happen. They happened to
me. And all the wishful thinking in the world can’t do
anything about it.”
“You don’t have to believe in the sun for it to still shine
on you.”
Jonathan erupted. “ And you don’t have to believe in
disease for it to come along and devastate your life and
take away everyone you love. Ask your grandfather . Have
the molecules and the P ost-it notes work ed for him? Have
they stopped whatever is eating him alive?”
Lupe’s faced collapsed. Ther e was a long silence. “I’m sor ry. That was an awful thing to say .”
More silence. “I said I’m sor ry—r eally.”
More silence. Jonathan put a hand out in fr ont of him. L upe wasn’t
there. The door was lef t open. He tur ned ar ound and ran
into an umbr ella stand. He kick ed it out of the way . The ne xt day, Jonathan hear d a commotion outside in the
hall and opened the door . Lupe’s grandmother emer ged,
rushed and har ried. As she lef t, she called back into the
apartment. “I call you as soon as I can, sweetheart.” She ignor ed
Jonathan and hur ried down the stairs, weeping audibly . She collided with Mrs. R amirez, the downstairs neighbor,
and the two of them spok e in frantic Spanish for a moment. “Shit—it must be Mr . Saldana,” Jonathan whisper ed to
himself . He went acr oss the hall and knock ed. “Lupe, it’s me. . .”
Mrs. R amirez walk ed up the stairs and saw Jonathan
knocking. “The hospital call her to come,” she told him. “She sounded upset.”
Mrs. R amirez shook her ahead. “ Poor Juana, all she does
is wor ry. All the time at the hospital.”
“What e xactly is wr ong with her husband?”
Mrs. R amirez look ed at Jonathan in confusion. “No, es Lupe. She’s the one. Don’t you know? Oh, Dios
mío. She has cancer—she dying.”
“Lupe! What ar e you talking about?”
The Saldanas’ door suddenly opened. L upe’s grandfather
stood ther e, leaning on a cane. “Wher e’s Lupe?” Jonathan ask ed. Raul paused. “She in hospital.”
“She isn’t r eally sick . . . ?”
“Yes, cancer .”
Jonathan shook his head in disbelief . “But how could that
be? How can she be sick? She’s always dancing, singing,
laughing?”
“Because she believes  she ﬁne. That’s why she always
talking about quinceañera  and working for you.”
“What do the doctors say?” Jonathan ask ed. “One say right in fr ont of her that she be luck y to live to
14. But she no believe it. She said she have a pictur e in her
head that she gr ow up to be a lady .”
“But why is she at the hospital now?”
“She has a test. Didn’t she tell you?”
Jonathan look ed ill. “She told me, all right. I just didn’t
listen.”
“It’s to see how bad the cancer is. They say test very
painful.”
Jonathan was clearly shak en. “Is ther e anything I can do,
Mr. Saldana? Anything at all?”
“Just believe, Mr . Jonathan. That’s what L upe would say . Believe .”In a hospital r oom, L upe, in a gown, lay on her side on a
table. A doctor with a needle stood behind her . The doctor said, “ Okay, Lupe, this is the spinal tap test I
told you about. It might hurt, but it will only be for a second. Are you r eady?”
“Yes.” L upe’s voice was brave, but her face was ﬁlled
with ter ror. She gripped the side of the table as the doctor
inserted the needle. She caught a glimpse of herself in the chr ome of a
medical cart and look ed into her own eyes. She chanted sof tly, “I am a beloved child of the universe,
and the universe lovingly tak es car e of me now and
forevermore.” She hesitated and then added, “ I’m the belle
of the ball. I’m the belle of the ball.”
Jonathan clumsily put away his gr oceries, swearing under
his br eath, a ter rible look on his face. Eventually, the look
turned to rage. He began to slam the kitchen cabinets so
hard that a loose shelf behind him shook and then br oke
completely fr om the wall. A sugar jar fell and smashed onto
the kitchen ﬂoor . “Shit!” he said, as he knelt down and felt what had
happened. He was about to say mor e but stopped. In a hushed
voice, he began to sing L upe’s swearing song. He felt his
body crumple in sadness and shame. Down on the ﬂoor, he touched the spilled sugar with his
hands. Suddenly his face r elaxed, and his hands began to
work automatically . The window dark ened as he continued. Outside the door, he hear d someone walk by . “Who’s ther e?”
“Mr. A. Are you ok ay, Mr . Jonathan?”
“Would you come her e, please?”The landlor d walk ed in with a wor ried look when he saw
Jonathan down on the ﬂoor . “Are you sur e you’r e okay?”
“Would you look at something for me?”
The landlor d appr oached. “You knock ed over the sugar—I’ll help you.”
“No! I don’t want it swept up. Just look at it. Does it look
like anything?”
The landlor d stepped back and look ed at the sugar
design on the ﬂoor . “It looks lik e a girl’s face . . .” He
hesitated and look ed at Jonathan with a kind of wonder . “It
looks lik e Lupe’s face. That’s uncanny .”
Jonathan lower ed his head. “Thank you.”
After the landlor d left, Jonathan got on the phone. “I want a ten-pound bag of sand,” he said into the
receiver . “Deliver ed immediately . I’ll pay whatever it is. I
don’t car e!’’
He hung up and moved into the bedr oom, wher e he
began pulling out paints, canvas, bowls, and brushes fr om
the closet. The deliveryman ar rived to ﬁnd a frantic Jonathan. “Don’t say a wor d! I’m blind, and I’m nuts, but I have a
lot of money . Come in!”
The deliveryman car ried in the sand and look ed ar ound. Jonathan had laid a canvas on the ﬂoor and ar ranged
several bowls in a line. He was in a fr enzy. He ask ed the
deliveryman to help him mix paint and sand. “They have to be in an or der I can r emember, so in the
ﬁrst bowl I want you to put r ed.”
They work ed for nearly an hour, mixing paint in every
bowl. When all the bowls had paint in them with various
amounts of sand, Jonathan said, “Ther e’s $40 on thedresser . Take it. And thanks.”
Jonathan took a knife and scooped some of the mixtur e
onto the canvas. He spr ead the paint with the knife, using
his other hand to feel wher e the paint was going. After an hour of this, Jonathan was cover ed in sweat and
paint. Exhausted, he lif ted the canvas upright. He took a few
steps back. He couldn’t see what he had painted, but still he
felt satisﬁed. It was, he hoped, a painting of L upe in her quinceañera
dress. OceanofPDF .comEPILOGUE
An autumn day, thr ee years later . Jonathan sat at a cr owded banquet table at a lar ge party
under a banner that r ead congratulations on your
quinceañera, lupe! A Latin band played festive music, and nearly everyone
was dancing. At one table sat Brie with a number of L upe’s classmates;
another table was ﬁlled with family members, including
Lupe’s par ents, r ecently r eturned fr om Me xico af ter
Jonathan helped them ﬁnd work as car etakers at a local
farm. Another table had apartment dwellers and another
was ﬁlled with nurses and doctors. When the music ended, L upe’s grandfather wheeled
himself to the micr ophone and spok e in Spanish. Beside
him, his wife translated. “Not everyone thought our darling L upe would mak e it to
this gr eat day, but we believed, and most important, Lupe
believed. She taught us all how to live with hope and faith
and gr eat spirit. She is our angel on earth. W e all love her
and thank God that she has blessed our lives.”
Everyone applauded, Jonathan the loudest and longest of
all. Lupe, now 15, stood, dr essed in an or nate dr ess, looking
like a princess, her hair coiled in braids ar ound her head. During the ensuing years, she’d gr own nearly a foot; and
her face had become mor e ser ene and beautiful. She smiledand placed her hands over her heart as they continued to
clap for her . She walk ed over to her grandpar ents and put her ar ms
around their shoulders and hugged them tightly; then she
turned to her par ents, who wer e glowing with pride. Then
she walk ed over to the table wher e Jonathan sat. Ther e was
a mixtur e of guests her e: Leo, the fabric purveyor, in a
brocade vest; W illiam, the driver; Jonathan’s sister, Carla,
and her son, R odney; the landlor d, Mr . Antunucci; and the
local deliveryman. Jonathan’s hair had grayed mor e at the temples, and his
face was cr eased and lined, but ther e was a new aspect to
his expression, a look of peace. He seemed surprised when
Lupe tapped him on the shoulder . He reached back his hand, and she took it. “ Can I have
this dance, please?” she ask ed. When he made a courtly bow in r esponse, she guided
him out to the dance ﬂoor . The two of them began to dance as a slow, sweet melody
played. Lupe cir cled Jonathan, and they moved easily, as if they
had been doing this all their lives. Jonathan whisper ed a few wor ds into L upe’s ear, and she
smiled up at him. “You’re welcome,” she said. As the music ended, Jonathan joyfully thr ew an ar m in
the air, and for a moment he became the living embodiment
of The Dancing V agabond. OceanofPDF .comABOUT THE  AUTHORS
Louise L. Ha y, the author of the inter national bestseller
You Can Heal Y our Life,  is a metaphysical lectur er and
teacher with mor e than 50 million books sold worldwide. For mor e than 30 years, L ouise has helped people
throughout the world discover and implement the full
potential of their own cr eative powers for personal gr owth
and self -healing. L ouise is the founder and chair man of Hay
House, Inc., which disseminates books, CDs, D VDs, and
other pr oducts that contribute to the healing of the planet. Visit: www.LouiseHay .com
Lynn Lauber  is a ﬁction and nonﬁction author, teacher,
and book collaborator . She has published thr ee books of her
own with W .W. Norton & Co ., as well as many collaborations
with other authors. Her specialties include ﬁction, personal
narrative, and self -impr ovement. Her essays have appear ed
in The New Y ork T imes. She has abridged audiobooks for
such authors as John Updik e, Oliver Sacks, Oprah W infrey,
and Gor e Vidal. V isit: www.lynnlauber .com
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_OceanofPDF.com_Painting_The_Future_-_Louise_L_Hay.txt
Summarize the following text section accurately and concisely. Maintain specific details and numerical information, and use anti-repetition mechanisms:

        What does he do. ”
“Works at a W illiams-Sonoma. ”
There was a long pause befor e Lupe ask ed, “What
happened to Geor gie. ”
“He got very sick. And then he died. ”
“Oh, that’s so sad. ” She waited for a moment. “What was
he lik e. ”
Jonathan rubbed his eyes. “ Full of life and fun. Every day
was an adventur e with him. He’d be so surprised to ﬁnd outthat he’s dead. ”
“Don’t you think he knows. ”
Jonathan shrugged. “ Anyway, when the sickness came,
all that fun and adventur e wer e gone. It was a swif t and
terrible end. ”
Lupe listened to him with a serious look on her face. “If a
house is ﬁlled with love and song, ther e isn’t r oom for
sickness. That’s what Grandma says; that’s why Grandpa
always puts on music. ”
“If I’d known your little secr et, I would have hir ed a
mariachi band,” Jonathan said ar chly. “I’m sur e it would
have made a big diﬀer ence in the critical car e unit. Honestly, I pr obably would have tried anything. ”
“Did you cry when he died. ”
“Lupe, enough. Ar e you in training with Barbara W alters
or something. ”
“Who’s Barbara W alters. ”
“Yes, I cried. But I don’t anymor e. I try not to, anyway. I
loved him, and he loved me. The last thing he said to me
was ‘thank you. ’”
“And what did you say. ”
“I don’t r emember. ”
“Maybe you said ‘you’r e welcome’. ”
There was a call fr om ne xt door, “ Lupe, L upe. ”
Jonathan, clearly upset, tur ned away as L upe’s
grandmother walk ed to Jonathan’s door. “Lupe,” her grandmother said, “time to go to the
hospital. ”
“Already. I hate going ther e,” she said. Jonathan tur ned back to her. “Why does your grandfather
have to go. ”
Lupe tur ned away. “See you tomor row. ”
When L upe enter ed the apartment, her grandpar ents
were standing in the foyer, alr eady pr epared to leave. “ Put
on your jack et, Lupe. I know it’s har d. None of us lik es to
go. ”
Lupe went into her r oom and put on a lightweight jack et. Then they all lef t the apartment in silence and moved
outside to the bus stop. Her grandfather was using a walk er. “Why ar en’t you in your wheelchair. ” L upe ask ed him,
adjusting his collar. “It’s too much tr ouble, with the bus,” he said. When they r eached the hospital, they enter ed a long line
of exhausted-looking patients waiting for their appointment
paperwork. The air conditioner was br oken, as wer e the
water fountains. Everyone was complaining. Once they got their paperwork, they sat in another lar ge,
penlik e area that was even hotter than the ﬁrst. L upe and
her grandpar ents sat in straight-back chairs against the
wall. Ther e wer e dozens of families, many speaking Spanish,
others talking languages L upe couldn’t place. One man held his head in his hands; several childr en
moaned in a par ent’s ar ms, as if something inside of them
were broken. “When can we get in. ” a young girl ask ed her mother,
but her mother shook her head and said wearily, “I don’t
know, honey. Please sit still. ”
Lupe tur ned her gaze to the vending machine and tried
to imagine what she’d buy if she had all the money in the
world. But even the vending machines wer en’t tempting
here; only oﬀ-brand sof t drinks and stale-looking nuts and
chocolates that had melted in the heat. Both her grandpar ents fell asleep, their heads leaning
inwar d, towar d Lupe who had also closed her eyes. She was
softly chanting: “ I love myself; ther efore, I live totally in the
now, e xperiencing each moment as good and knowing that
my futur e is bright, joyous, and secur e. ”When a nurse called out their name, both grandpar ents
woke with a start. They all stood and ﬁled into the oﬃce,
wher e their infor mation was enter ed into the computer. Lupe felt as if they wer e stuck in a pr ocess that they’d
repeated hundr eds of times. What was the sense of
computers if every time you had to pr ovide the same
material. But her grandpar ents showed no sign of being
angry. Her grandmother got out a small notebook fr om her
purse and r eported all the data ask ed of her in a pleasant
voice. L upe admir ed her fortitude and level mood; if she
ever got sad or scar ed, she didn’t show it. Poppy was mor e emotional. She had once seen him gr ow
so angry that he br ought his big ﬁst down on the dining-
room table, splitting one of the boar ds. But he never acted
this way in public. His hair was even grayer lately, and much
of it had fallen out at some point she hadn’t noticed. “Do all thr ee of you need to be in her e. ” the nurse ask ed
roughly when it was time to enter the doctor’s oﬃce. “Yes,” said L upe’s grandmother. “All of us. ”
OceanofPDF. comCHAPTER 8
A crowd of par ents and grandpar ents wer e taking their
seats in the school auditorium. L upe’s grandmother sat in
the fr ont row, wearing a hat and a brightly ﬂower ed dr ess. A
long pr ocession of girls walk ed onstage, one a r eplica of the
other—long pale hair with bangs and dark dr esses with
white collars. Mrs. Saldana clapped loudly when L upe
enter ed the stage, trailing in at the end. She was smiling,
but clearly out of place. Her long hair had partly escaped fr om its elastic and was
curling ar ound her face, and her dr ess was cut fr om the
same bright fabric as her grandmother’s. Lupe tried to stand in tight for mation with the other
singers, but following Brie’s lead, they managed to inch
away fr om her, leaving a space that was visible fr om the
audience, as if she wer e infectious. Brie’s face was steely
tonight, without the smirk she usually wor e. She seemed to
be sear ching the audience for someone. The conductor, a tall nun in moder n habit, bowed to
applause and raised her ar ms. The girls all tur ned to her
and, at her downbeat, commenced singing “The L ord Is
Mighty. ” As the singing continued, L upe’s voice r ose,
distinctive among the sopranos: sweet, clear, light, and
lyrical. A t the end of the song, several of the girls look ed
over at her in disdain, but L upe was oblivious. There was a small commotion in the back as the second
song began. A man dr essed all in black with a slouched hatwas helped into a back seat. Appar ently, he was blind. During the ne xt two songs, Jonathan gradually sat up
straighter as he hear d Lupe’s voice above all the others. Her
voice had a high bell-lik e ring to it, and Jonathan listened
carefully. When the singing ended, the conductor perfor med the
“zipper movement,” and L upe smiled. Ther e was a small
commotion in the back—the man in black in the back r ow
had now vanished. As Lupe walk ed into the apartment the ne xt afternoon,
Jonathan was wrapping up a phone call. He sounded
exasperated. “ Okay, all right. I agr ee. ”
He hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. “What’s wr ong. ” L upe ask ed. “My mother’s going to be in town this week en r oute to
Hawaii. She insists on coming to visit. ”
“That’s good, isn’t it. ”
“No, it’s not good. I haven’t seen her for ages. And I
haven’t seen her for a r eason. ”
“What’s the r eason. ”
“She drives me nuts. That’s the r eason. She’s a little
dynamo of negativity. ”
“What about your father. ”
“He never travels with her. He’s glad to be lef t alone. I
don’t know if I can tak e it—I r eally don’t. She’s truly an
awful woman. She’s still trying to ﬁx me up with her
girlfriends’ daughters. ”
“I’ll help you entertain her. ”
Jonathan laughed. “That’ll be good. She’s also a bigot,
did I mention that. She’ll tr eat you lik e the maid. ”
“I don’t mind. I am the maid, in a way. ”
“You’re not the maid. Y ou’re my. ”
“Friend. ” L upe said. “Is that har d to say. ”“No, it’s not har d. Yes, my friend. ”
“What day is she coming. ”
Jonathan put his head in his hands again. “Thursday. ”
“The bingo club meets at Grandmother’s that day. We’ll
work something out. I’ll help you—”
“The bingo club. ”
“All the old people in the neighbor hood,” L upe said as
she walk ed out. On Thursday, Jonathan paced back and forth in fr ont of
his fr ont window. “Lupe, I hear someone—come look. ”
Lupe emer ged fr om the kitchen with a tray of snacks. “What’s that. ”
“Cheese nachos, the specialty of Grandma. ” She look ed
out the window. “It’s a taxi, but it’s not your mother. ”
“How do you know. “It’s a woman, but she’s tiny, and she’s wearing some
kind of fur, and it looks lik e she’s ar guing with the driver. ”
“Oh, God. It’s her. ”
“I don’t see how someone so tall as you could come out
of someone so tiny. ”
“Well, don’t ask her. I’m sur e it’s a gory story. ”
He tur ned to L upe. “I can’t believe how anxious I feel. This is just my mother. ”
“Mothers ar e very str ong inﬂuences. ”
“How do you know so much at eleven. ”
She shrugged as the bell rang. “I just tur ned twelve. ”
“Buzz her in,” Jonathan said in a hopeless voice. Lupe buzzed her in twice, and they stood listening to the
click of high heels as she climbed the stairs. L upe opened
the door, and they stood waiting. Jonathan’s mother, Belle,
stopped at the top, panting dramatically. “No elevator. What a surprise. ”As she br eathed, she took in L upe and Jonathan. L upe
could tell by her mottled hands and sunk en neck that Belle
was near her grandmother’s age, but something had been
done to her face so that the skin look ed pulled and polished. “Is this my baby. Is this my blind baby. ”
She rushed to Jonathan and wrapped her ar ms ar ound
him, knocking him back into the apartment. She burst into
tears. “ How could this be. How could you lose your sight so
young. ”
Jonathan’s face was contorted with feeling. He patted her
shoulder and dislodged her fr om his neck. “It was all a long
time ago, Mother. I’m used to it by now. ”
“Well, I’m not. I haven’t been allowed to see you—” Her
tears suddenly tur ned oﬀ as if with a spigot as she eyed
Lupe. “Is this your maid. ”
“I told you,” Jonathan said to L upe. “No, this is my friend
Lupe. She’s been a r eal help to me. ”
“A child. I hope you’r e not having an inappr opriate
relationship with her. ”
“No, Mother. Of course not. Unless dusting my apartment
is inappr opriate to you. Come in and sit down. ”
Belle sashayed in, looking ar ound the apartment with
clear distaste. “This is so small. ”
“It’s suﬃcient for me. Can I get you anything. L upe
brought some wonderful hors d’oeuvr es. ”
Belle sat down gingerly on the sofa. “I’ll have some plain
water, if you can spar e it. I’m watching my weight. ”
Jonathan sat acr oss fr om her. “Well, how’ve you been. How’s F ather. ”
Belle sniﬀed. “If you wer e really curious, you could have
contacted us. ”
“I had some issues I was handling. ”
“Yes, I can imagine. And how’s your friend—that Geor gie
person. ”
“He died years ago. I told you that. All my good friends
died ar ound the same time. ”Belle shudder ed. “From that ghastly virus. But I always
said, if you live a degenerate—”
Lupe inter rupted. “Mr. Jonathan has many new friends
here in the building. They’r e getting together today right
across the hall. ” She opened the door, rushed acr oss, and
swung open her grandpar ents’ door. The apartment was full
of every old-timer in the neighbor hood—all sitting on folding
chairs, all playing bingo. “¡Hola. ”  several called out. Belle r olled her eyes. “ Those  are your friends. They’r e
ancient. And speaking Spanish. So now you hang out with
childr en and elderly illegal aliens. ”
Jonathan was staring at the ﬂoor; a vein in his for ehead
had appear ed that L upe had never seen befor e. Despite her pr otestations, Belle took a bite of the nachos
and soon had polished oﬀ half the dish, while gossiping
nonstop. “ And Sara Evans—you know she was the last one
of us besides me who wasn’t divor ced—well, as soon as her
decree went thr ough, she found out she had brain cancer. And not the curable kind either. I said—”
“I remember Sara, vaguely. She had that ter rible plastic
surgery on her ears. ”
“That’s the one. Y ou should see her now—her eyelids
look melted, lik e candle wax. She had this new therapy
wher e they heat your skin and supposedly tighten it. But I
say, give me an old-fashioned face-lif t any day, rather than
these newfangled pr ocedur es. They never do what they say
they will. And the cost—”
“How’s F ather’s heart. ”
Thrown oﬀ track, Belle shook her head and look ed grim. “Not good. He doesn’t eat right. He can’t contr ol his own fat
intak e. The man is eighty -ﬁve years old and completely set
in his ways, so I can’t tell him what to do. Just lik e you kids. Speaking of which, I never  hear fr om your sister. When I
think of the money we spent on her education, I ﬁnd the
ingratitude stunning. Not that I e xpect to be paid back, but Ido expect a certain level of r espect. And your education—
why, we’d be millionair es if we’d—”
“I believe my art-school tuition paid oﬀ,” Jonathan said
archly. “That’s a matter of opinion,” Belle sniﬀed. Lupe, picking up ar ound them, said, “Mr. Jonathan’s art is
very famous. ”
“Well, no one I know ever hears of him anymor e. ” Belle
looked at L upe suspiciously. “Are you sur e ther e isn’t
something inappr opriate going on with you two. ”
“Mr. Jonathan, what does inappr opriate  mean. ” L upe
asked. “In this case, it means a demented mind. ”
Belle laughed. “That’s rich, coming fr om you. ”
“Mother,” Jonathan inter rupted, “how long do you think
it’s been since I’ve seen you. ”
Belle rubbed her temple. “ Oh, I don’t know. Many years. ”
“Well, appar ently it hasn’t been long enough,” Jonathan
said. His mother star ed at him with her usual unsympathetic
eyes. “I let you come visit, against my better instincts. But I’ve
been right to avoid you. Y ou’re full of negativity, and I just
can’t aﬀor d to be ar ound your ener gy anymor e—”
“My energy. Well, I’m sor ry. I’m simply being myself. ”
“I know it’s who you ar e. But who you ar e and who I am
are not compatible. So let’s leave it at that. I have to ask
you to leave. ”
“Leave. Are you serious. My plane doesn’t go for hours. What am I supposed to do. ”
“Yes, I’m serious. Ther e’s a mall nearby. I’m sur e you can
ﬁnd something. ”
Belle opened her mouth and then shut it again. She
picked up her purse, stood, and look ed ar ound the
apartment one mor e time. “Y our father war ned me thiswasn’t a good idea. I should have listened. But I won’t tell
him how far you’ve fallen. He wouldn’t believe it. ”
“Tell him whatever you wish, Mother. He’s the one I
would’ve lik ed to see. I’ll call you a cab. ”
“Don’t bother. ”
“Lupe, would you help my mother out. ”
“I don’t need help fr om either one of you,” she said,
looking nar rowly at L upe. She walk ed out and slammed the door.
He works at Williams-Sonoma.
What does Jonathan work at?
Lupe is 11 years old (later mentioned to be 15 years old).
What is Lupe's age?
Geor gie is a deceased friend of Jonathan's.
Who is Geor gie?
Lupe wants to get a special dress and has already chosen the design and fabric, but lacks the money to buy it.
What is Lupe's plan for her quinceañera?
Brie is a classmate of Lupe's who is described as perfect and beautiful, and is mentioned as having a negative influence on Jonathan.
Who is Brie?