Blood Lake Read Online Free Page B

a minute,” says César, who is using the bottle opener to serve the customers.
    â€œNever mind,” says Uncle Lucho, putting the bottle cap between his teeth and biting it off with one pull. He hands me the bottle and spits the cap onto the floor. Antonia is impressed.
    â€œDon’t be
cochino
,” says Yolita. “Offer her a glass.”
    â€œThis is fine.” Aah …
    Two caramel-colored men in oil-stained T-shirts are sharing a big bottle of Pilsener beer on the sidewalk in front of the store. They are already sweating. I check my watch. It’s not even 9:00 A.M.
    â€œCome here, Filomenita,” calls Guillermo. “I got something for you. Give me your watch,” he says, already unstrapping it from my wrist.
    â€œWhat?”
    He shushes me, makes my watch disappear and replaces it with what looks like a shiny, new Rolex.
    â€œThere!” he says, excessively triumphant. “Welcome back.” Guillermo kisses me on both cheeks.
    Now I get a good look at the watch. The name, when observed closely, turns out to be Rolux. The factory where Guillermo and seventy-nine other underpaid Ecuadorians grind out imitations of expensive foreign products, mostly for export.
    â€œI’ll wear it with pride,” I say, swinging my wrist up with a showy snap to check the time.
    â€œEasy!” shouts Guillermo, grabbing my wrist. He looks at the watch, taps the face with his fingernail, and shakes my wrist. The second hand starts moving again, and Guillermo lets out a puff of air. “Careful with it,” he says.
    â€œI will be.” I’ll also keep my other watch around.
    â€œWe’ve got a barrel of rainwater on the roof,” says Uncle Lucho. “You can use a couple of pitchers of it to shower.”
    â€œ
Thank you
.” Two quarts of germ-free rainwater and I’m ready to get down on my knees and sing God’s praises. Funny how your values change when you’re away from your safe and constant home.
    â€œNow let’s get you gals settled in upstairs.”
    César says, “Watch out by the stairs. We broke a bottle of soda.”
    â€œYeah, there’s all this sticky red crap and broken glass on the floor,” I observe, feeling a tingling in my veins, and in an eyeblink it’s gone. “Careful, Toni. The floor’s all sticky.”
    Antonia says, “Okay, so don’t go licking the bottom of your shoes.”
    â€œThat’s a good plan under normal circumstances, but—”
    â€œBut? You got a but to go with that?”
    â€œI just don’t think we should be ruling anything out at this point.”
    â€œMom?”
    â€œLook, I’m just tired and a little freaked out now, okay? I’ll feel better after I shower and change.”
    â€œ
¿Qué significa
‘freaked out’?” Suzie asks.
    â€œThat’s what I keep asking her,” says Antonia, poking me. “Some expression from the Paleolithic era, I think.”
    â€œ
Neo
lithic, please,” I correct her.
    We lug our bags up three flights of cement stairs to the upper floors, which the family built by hand under Uncle Lucho’s supervision. Upstairs, we unpack the essentials. Suzie sneaks a friendly peek in my handbag. “You carry a lighter?” she asks.
    â€œSure. You never know when you might need to set something on fire.”

    The rich rhythms of Afro-Colombian
cumbias
float through the air like high-grade opium. A turkey my aunt raised on theterrace is slowly roasting over a homemade barbecue crafted from a fifty-five-gallon steel drum cut down the middle and laid on its side, and the flat rooftop terrace is filled with the hot bodies of bronze and brown-skinned family and friends. Some of my relatives would be considered black in the U.S.
    I refuse drinks, have others, dance with cousins I haven’t seen since Antonia’s first communion, and with one of Luis’s classmates, who has