again—another cycle passing. I sometimes watch the wind blow across the desert and wonder what you’re doing. Third grade now. You’re probably a pretty big boy. My friend Naomi’s boy was in to visit her last week, and I saw him. He was up to her chin.
Sometimes, now, I get so angry. For a long time, I didn’t feel anything at all. But now I get so mad at the unfairness of all of this that I can’t breathe. I just want to see you. For five minutes. I wouldn’t even have to talk to you. I could just see you walk by. I get angry at Victor’s sisters for pushing to keep you away from me. I’m angry with myself for agreeing to a legal adoption. I thought it was the right thing, but I don’t think it is anymore. I just want to see you. It hurts like a wound.
There’s nothing to be done about it now. I guess I can hope to get out of here and see you. They’re moving me to medium security next week. It’s a step in the right direction.
Love, Mom
The weather Saturday morning was overcast and cool, perfect for picking apples, Desmary told Tanya, who felt a little thrill of anticipation at the coming activities. She wore her new blue sweatshirt and her good running shoes and a pair of jeans, her hair pulled back in a barrette. With good cheer, she put on a pair of silver feather earrings and took pleasure in the swing of them against her neck.
Tonio came into the kitchen as Tanya was mixing a second batch of pancakes. The flesh around his eyes was a little swollen, as if he’d slept very hard. For the first time, Tanya glimpsed the little boy he’d been, and her heart pinched a little. “Hi,” she said with a small smile.
“Hi.” He stepped close to her. He was taller than she by three or four inches and she looked up, taking deep pleasure in the arrangement of his features, the blueness of his eyes, the blackness of his hair. Such a handsome young man.
“You mind if I give you a hug?” he asked.
Startled, she said, “No, not at all.”
He bent and awkwardly put his arms around her shoulders, elbows sticking out, the rest of his body held away from her. It was clumsy and self-conscious, but for one hard, strong minute, Tanya touched the shoulder of her son and smelled the soap on his skin and the shampoo in his hair. It was so sudden and sharply pleasant she couldn’t breathe.
“Thanks for what you said last night,” he said, and straightened, ducking his head as if he were embarrassed. “It helped a lot.”
“I’m glad.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans and shuffled backward. “I just wanted to tell you.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’ll send out pancakes for you and your dad in a few minutes.”
When he had exited, Tanya looked at Desmary, and took a huge, clearing breath.
Desmary smiled.
Tanya shook her head, and went back to ladling pancake batter onto the grill. She couldn’t think about it yet, or she’d cry.
After breakfast about twenty boys, including Tonio and Edwin, who cut each other a wide berth, along with two counselors, and Ramón and Tanya gathered outside in a little square of bare earth made by the house, the barn, the corrals and the dorms. A faint misty rain fell, hardly noticeable except for the jackets they needed to keep warm. Big stacks of bushel baskets waited by the barns.
“Listen up, everybody,” Ramón said. “Some of you have been here long enough that you’ve done this before, and I expect you to help the others who haven’t.”
A voice at her elbow said, “Have you done it before?”
Tanya looked down and saw Zach standing there. The sleeves of his jean jacket were too short, the cuffs frayed, and he wore only a thin T-shirt underneath. She frowned and knelt without thinking to button his jacket. “Don’t you have another coat?” she whispered.
“I’m all right.”
“Okay.” She stood up again to listen to Ramón explain the process of harvesting the apples. Next to her, a slim cold hand slipped into her own. She