Without Borders (16 page)

“
Hola.
Hello?” Juan’s voice broke through their tangle of roaming hands and lips, and Felipe rolled off of her. “Do not mind me,” Juan said. One hand covered his eyes, but he kept peeking out from behind parted fingers. “I only need a few things.”

Annie stared at the ceiling, motionless, as all the blood moved from her more exciting parts into her face. Felipe groaned. “At least he’s not dressed as a clown,” he whispered in her ear.

On the other side of the room, Juan dug through his bag at fatally injured tortoise speed, glancing over his shoulder at them every few seconds.

“
Dios mío
, get out of here, old man.” Felipe threw a pillow at Juan.

He caught it without ever turning around, tossed it back, and scurried out the door.

“How does he do that?” Annie asked.

“What?” Felipe leaned over her, tracing her cheekbone with one finger.

A shiver ran through her. “Never mind.” She tugged him closer, her body anxious to pick up where they’d left off. “We’ll get him back later.”

Felipe led them down the four steps of the maternity home into the bright morning sun. Annie looked at the plywood shacks with their rusty metal roofs and tried to picture a miniature Marisol running around outside, bossing everyone in sight. In her imagination, a tiny Felipe released a bucket of worms into the wild.

They reached a blue, two-story house. Sharp spears at the top of the iron fence glinted at eye-level. Inside the gate, Felipe’s aunt waited for them in a frayed plastic lawn chair.

“
Buenas, buenas
.” She eased out of her chair and opened the gate, pulling Marisol into an embrace and kissing her cheek. She shook Phillip’s hand, then Annie’s, and as she did, her cedar scent hit Annie’s nose.

She looked at Felipe before she turned to Annie. “
Carlos dijo
—”

“
Sí
.” Felipe took Annie’s elbow and steered her to the backyard.

“What did she say? I wasn’t—” Her face crinkled as she tried to remember his aunt’s words.

“She wanted to know your name.” He smiled. “Here is the laundry sink.”

“But she already knows my name, right? What was the thing about Carlos? I’m understanding more things now, but—”

He ducked his chin and kissed her, cutting off her words and her air supply. His mouth was soft and teasing against her lips, and when he pulled away she was left gasping for more of him. He handed her a crusty jar of white powder and planted a feathered kiss on her lips. “Here is the soap. I have to go be interrogated by my
tía
now.”

Annie dumped her clothes into the boxy laundry sink and tossed a scoop of detergent inside. She filled the basin with tepid water to her elbows, and a thin film skimmed the surface. She dunked her things again and again, swishing and swirling them through the water in her best impression of a washing machine. Within seconds, the water turned a vile shade of gray.

As she worked, a group of children gathered in clumps of two or three at the iron fence until they made up a single knot of at least ten kids, the oldest as tall as Annie and the youngest riding on the hip of another. She recognized a few of the faces from the last clinic and waved at them. Dirty water dripped from her fingertips.

“You have a fan club.” Felipe’s voice floated over her shoulder.

“Annie-watch. Like the zoo,” she said. “Now with more gingers.”

He cocked his head.

“Never mind.”

“Have you ever washed your clothes this way?”

“By hand?” she asked, self-consciousness creeping up her spine.

“
Sí
.” Felipe stepped in beside her, watching her amateur, improvised technique. “You must scrub. Here.” He nudged her over with his hip and a smile. His body echoed against hers as she stood next to him, fingers wrinkled and dripping, sharing the square sink. He dunked his hands into the water and came up with the old, gray sorority tee Annie had worn the day before. He rubbed the sides of the shirt together, hard and brisk. His face crinkled with the effort, but he sang under his breath in time with the movement. It wasn’t a tune Annie recognized, but soon Felipe raised his voice and swayed his hips in an excellent lounge singer impression. The kids on the other side of the fence giggled and some joined in, singing at the top of their lungs and mimicking his horrible dance moves.

Annie’s laughter bubbled over. Her hips moved in time with the song as she took the clean shirt from him and hung it on the line. But they shuttered and halted when she realized what Felipe held in his hand. With the fervor of a hockey player, she hip-checked him and seized a bra from his hands. “I think I can take it from here.”

He kept singing as he shook his hands dry, but between beats he leaned in behind her. “
Interesante
.” His breath cooled the sweat on her neck, and a chill rolled down her back.

Annie looked at the bra in her hands. A pink lacy thing she’d thrown in her luggage at the last minute, which now seemed like both her stupidest and best idea ever. Her stomach fluttered, and her skin flashed hot as she remembered the way his fingers had crept up her ribcage the day before. She glanced behind her to the throng of eager children watching their every move.

“I will distract them.” He tossed a blue soccer ball over the fence and followed with his body, smiling at her over his shoulder. The kids fanned out, breaking themselves into teams as she scrubbed.

• • •

The kids protested and shook their tiny fists at him, but Felipe picked up his ball and declared the game a tie. He hopped over the fence and wiped the sweat from his face as the crowd dissipated.

Annie pulled clothes from the laundry line. “It sounds like they want to keep playing.” She reached for a pair of shorts, and he ran a hand down her side.

“I promised them a rematch tomorrow.” His mind zeroed in on the way her hips shifted beneath his hands. It reminded him of how they’d arched to press against him yesterday, and he wondered if anyone would notice if he snuck her back to their temporary living quarters to explore them some more.

“Annie! Annie!” Three lanky boys stood at the fence, still sweaty from the soccer game.

She waved to them as she stacked a pair of shorts on top of her other clothes.

“You have
novios
.” Felipe chuckled.

Annie smiled and shook her head at him. The freckles on her nose scrunched with the movement, and he found himself following her to the fence, where the boys dangled their arms and legs through the gaps.

“Annie. I am Leonardo,” the tallest one said. His hair fell over one eye, and he pushed it away every few seconds.

“
Hola, Leonardo
.” Annie shook the hand he stuck through the posts. “
¿Cuántos años tienes?
”

The boy told Annie he was sixteen, but Felipe knew Leonardo was thirteen. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t out the kid. Annie’s smile was wide and welcoming, and her shorts showed off her smooth legs. Felipe couldn’t blame Leonardo for trying.

“Brothers?” Annie asked, pointing at the threesome. Their heads bobbed, quick and eager.

“You get brothers?” Leonardo asked. His gangly limbs hung through the slats in a comedic mix of awkwardness and machismo.

Annie shook her head. “How do I say I am an only child?”

Felipe told her, and when the boys overheard, their eyes bloomed. Hands fluttered and weaved in and out of the fence as their flurried words moved between broken English and fluid Spanish.

“That is unusual here,” Felipe said.

Annie smiled. She stood with her hands wrapped around the fence posts, talking to the boys. They pelted her with questions, some in Spanish, some in their rudimentary English. Sometimes Annie understood and answered. Sometimes he translated, wishing they would leave so he could have her to himself. The boys wanted to know her parents’ names.
John and Linda.
Her birthday.
February third.
Her favorite color.
Purple.
Whether she liked Shakira.
Who doesn’t?
Felipe wanted to know all those things too, so he didn’t send them away.

“
¿Le gusta melocotón?
” Leonardo asked.

She twisted her mouth in concentration. “
¿Melocotón?
”

“I think you call this star fruit.”

“
No sé
,” she told Leonardo.

The boy scrambled up the fence. At the top, Leonardo’s arms gave out, nearly impaling him on the sharp edges. He fell to the ground, brushed his pants leg off, and tried again. This time he made it over on wobbling arms. The boy pulled himself up tall, and Felipe and Annie parted to make room for his teenage ego.

“
¿Vamos? ¿El árbol de melocotón?
” The kid bounced on his toes.

“There is a star fruit tree near his house. He wants to take you there.” Felipe translated, praying she would say no. The trip would leave him no time to pin her against the laundry sink and run his hands along every part of her.

“Is that okay? I mean, can I leave my clothes here?”

“
Sí
,” he sighed. “We will be back. I promised my aunt we will stay for dinner.” Leonardo watched them from beneath his shaggy hair. “
Vamos
,” Felipe told the kid.

Leonardo looped Annie’s arm through his, and Felipe fell in step behind them. The boy led them out of the gate, where his brothers waited. Together, they left the dirt road and headed into a maze of stilted houses, drawing a few stares as they went.

They arrived at the tall, slim tree, and Leonardo dropped Annie’s arm. He circled the tree, and under his feet the grass was worn thin and brown. Around them, small shacks dotted the landscape, and the thin cover of the tree split the searing hot rays of sun. After two complete loops, the boy chose a spot and snaked up the trunk. His long legs and bare feet gripped the bark, and he yelled to Annie, asking if she could see him. She shielded her eyes as she watched, shouting encouragement in halting Spanish. The other boys called out, guiding Leonardo to the closest fruits.

“I think he is too young for you.” Felipe elbowed Annie in the ribs.

She twisted her mouth in a perfect impression of his sister. “A girl has got the needs.”

With a thud, Leonardo came down from the tree and walked toward them. His hands were raw from the climb, and he’d tucked the hem of his shirt into his collar, creating a pouch for his spoils.

“Look!” He untucked his shirt, revealing four of the yellow fruits. He handed the biggest, ripest one to Annie and the smallest to Felipe. His brothers swarmed, taking the last two and leaving him empty-handed. Leonardo yelled after them and waved his fist in the air, but they were already kicking up dirt on the way home.

“Here.” Felipe handed his to the boy, who accepted the fruit with a nod.

Leonardo nudged Annie. “Try. Try.”

“How do I eat it? Do we have to peel them?” Annie’s glance darted between them, then to the angular fruit in her hand.

“No. They do not have this in the store where you are from?”

Annie shrugged. “Maybe. I’m more of berry kind of girl.”

“Berry?”

“You know. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, mulberries. Pretty much anything you can put in a pie.”

Leonardo coughed. “Try, try.” He nudged Annie again, his features flashing from fascination to eagerness.

“Okay, okay.” She laughed and took a large bite from the middle of the star fruit. Juice pooled in the corners of her mouth and ran down her chin. “
Muy bien
.
Muy, muy bien
.”

Leonardo’s eyes widened at the sight.

“We must go. Try not to break his heart,” Felipe said.

Annie let out a stiff laugh, but her ears turned pink. She held out a hand to Leonardo—her intent to shake unmistakable. “
Adios, amigo. Gracias por la
…” she turned her face toward Felipe.

“
Melocotón
.”

“
Melocotón
,” she repeated.

Leonardo nodded, and his smile stretched the width of his face. He took Annie’s arm and insisted on chaperoning their walk home, rambling the entire way in stunted English.

• • •

They watched as Leonardo slipped through the gate toward home, looking over his shoulder every third step. When the boy was out of sight, Felipe pulled Annie in for a deep kiss, and she came utterly undone.

“How long until dinner?” she asked, her breath shallow.

He shrugged, kissing her again. It was softer this time, and she raked her hands along his chest. “Come on,
Americana
. I will give you the tour.”

Barbara bustled in her dark, boxy kitchen, buzzing between the refrigerator and table. Phillip darted around the tiny room with her, sporting a yellow apron over his t-shirt.

“What’s up, guys?” He held a wooden spoon. “Your aunt made me the sous chef. Cool, right? And she has a refrigerator, even though the electric doesn’t work all the time. She keeps it cold with ice. And I’m not allowed to open it. Marisol’s extra insulin is in there.”

“Where’s Mari?” Annie asked, trying and failing to wrap her mind around Phillip dressed as June Cleaver. The scent of sweetness and cumin clung to the sticky air, growing stronger with every inhale. “What are you making? Smells fantastic.”

“It’s this giant banana thing.”

A warm, solid hand pressed against Annie’s back, the weight of its palm inching past the waistband of her shorts. Phillip’s words fell into a blur.

“Cool. Good luck with that.” She pulled Felipe out of the kitchen. He guided her toward a steep set of unfinished wooden stairs.

The top of the staircase opened to a balcony that looked down at the street. Homes climbed the rolling hills beyond the road, and on the horizon a single jagged tree climbed toward the setting sun.

“This is the porch.” Felipe gestured toward the long, narrow perch. But his eyes never left her face, and he trailed a finger down the length of her neck.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and when she opened them, her gaze fell on a photo in an old wooden frame. The colors were faded, but there was no mistaking Felipe’s dimple, even with the toothless smile. Her feet halted and refused to move. “Is this your mother? Your biological mother, I mean?”