Free Out of Darkness by Ashley Hope Pérez Page A

had been asked a question but did not know what it was. She tried to force her lips to form the words her mother had told her to speak, but they sat like lead on her tongue. She studied the milky streaks on the counter, hoping for a miracle.
    The woman came from behind the counter then. She leaned down and took Naomi’s hand. “You can tell me.”
    â€œ Escuse, aye juan tu fin amen namad Henry, es mi papa. ” The words came out in a rush. Naomi trembled with the expectation of failure. But the woman gave no indication either of understanding or of confusion. Instead, she pointed over at the group of men. “You know any of those fellas?”
    Naomi shook her head.
    â€œThen it must be Henry you’re looking for.”
    When Naomi heard the name, she grabbed the woman’s sleeve. “Es hem,” she said, nodding in case the words hadn’t come out right.
    â€œYou wait here. Let me see if I can raise him, darlin’.” She folded her towel into a wet square and moved off behind the shed in the direction of a little white house on the next lot.
    Naomi took a step toward the sleeping dog, and for a moment she thought about stroking his floppy ears, but she did not want to disturb him. He whimpered softly, then his legs began to twitch and move.
    The woman came back with Henry. His hat was askew, and he was still buckling his pants.
    Another man called over to him, “You give old Mona somethin’ to moan about?”
    The other men laughed, but Henry ignored them. He looked at Naomi. “What’re you doing here?”
    Naomi stared up at him. She realized her mouth was hanging open, so she pulled it shut. But she could not bring herself to speak. Her mother had given her words to ask for Henry but no words to speak to him once she found him.
    She swallowed, remembering her mission. “Mami,” she said, “Mami.” She could tell from his eyes that he understood, and he took off running toward the house, leaving her behind.
    â—Š ◊ ◊
    It was the second miscarriage in less than six months. Something was not right, the doctor said, and he cautioned against another pregnancy. When Estella miscarried a third time, the doctor spelled the consequences out more plainly: “Another pregnancy could kill your wife.”
    Naomi stood listening at the door to her room as the doctor and Henry talked in the hall. Naomi’s English was getting better, but she did not know what was meant by “abstinence,” “substitution,” “self-care,” or “prophylactics.” Whatever it was made Henry very angry. “She’s my wife, dammit, a man’s got a right,” he said.
    â—Š ◊ ◊
    Naomi had loved the bathtub in Henry’s house. It was the first porcelain tub she’d seen outside of the movies. In those days before the crash, Abuelito and Abuelita had had a nice house, but they still took their baths in a galvanized tin tub. Henry’s bathtub was big enough to float in without touching the sides if she pulled her knees up. She liked to lie there, drifting, until the bathwater turned frigid and her mother called her out.
    Sometimes at night, she would sneak out of bed, creep down the hall, and curl up in the tub. She didn’t dare run the water for fear of waking her mother or, if he was home, Henry. But with her cheek pressed against the cool white porcelain she could swim through imaginary waters and sometimes fall asleep.
    She was there when Henry came into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. She watched as he placed both hands on the wall beneath the mirror and pressed his forehead against the glass. A moment later, one of his hands slid down into his pajamas. It was like some small creature was trying to escape from his throat. His hand moved fast. His body jiggled. He kept his forehead against the mirror and his eyes closed. Then he grunted once and seemed to shudder all over. He stood