English is no better than her Spanish. And she understands enough to watch the telenovelas on TV. She knows a lot of older gay men, divorced women, retired Mexican teachers of English, and retired American teachers of Spanish.
Everyone in the neighborhood knows Mom. Se?ora Sally. Daisy tells Charlotte that Grandma must have shown everyone pictures of her, on her phone. The women selling chilies and mangoes call out her name. Se?orita Daisy!
Daisy’s delighted to be with her grandma. Charlotte feels as if Daisy is the world’s most inspired hostess gift, a present so well chosen for her mother that Mom even seems happy to see Charlotte and Eli.
Mom has never been affectionate. When Charlotte hugs her, she grudgingly allows herself to be embraced. Charlotte has worried that Mom would treat Daisy that way. But she’s been surprised by the heartfelt affection that Mom lavishes on Daisy when she visits them in New York.
For Mom, love seems to have skipped a generation. It doesn’t bother Charlotte. Not really. She’s glad that Daisy has a loving grandmother.
Freed from the duties of childcare, liberated from their worries about whether Daisy is bored or entertained, hungry or thirsty, Eli and Charlotte can enjoy the city. Eli likes speaking Spanish. They take long walks and sit in cafés and eat churros and chocolate and talk. It seems like a good sign to Charlotte that, after being married for years and having a child, they can still have fun.
They explore antiques shops, go to the art museum, and cool off in the incense-laden chill of the cathedral. They ask Luz what she needs in the market, and they do the shopping. They buy artisanal mezcal and woven place mats that Charlotte can’t resist, even though they don’t need them. They purchase a painted wooden donkey that Daisy names Sig. After little white worms begin crawling out of the wood, Charlotte has to spirit Sig into the garbage when Daisy is sleeping.
Charlotte and Eli buy Mom an air conditioner, not because the weather is so hot, but because Mom is developing a worrisome wheeze, a little like Daisy’s. And it will be better for Daisy to have the air filtered. They ask Luz to find a man to install it.
They’ve been in Oaxaca for a day when Rocco arrives. He and Mom seem wary around each other. It’s hardly a surprise. After all, they don’t share a great mother-son history.
Rocco has learned Spanish from two of the guys he works with. Unlike Eli, who is fluent but reluctant to talk to strangers, Rocco will talk to anyone. One night the three of them leave Daisy with Mom and go to see the masked wrestlers. They drink beer and eat potato chips drenched in hot sauce, and cheer and boo along with the rest of the crowd.
Rocco has always liked Oaxaca. But this time he’s not quite his usual Rocco-in-Mexico self. He seems preoccupied. Distant.
One night, after a couple of Mom’s cocktails, Charlotte gets up the nerve to ask if everything is all right with Ruth.
“What’s it to you?” he says. “You and Eli don’t like her.”
“We do,” Charlotte says. “We both do.”
Is that true? They do like her . . . with reservations. But it wouldn’t be helpful to say that.
“Daisy likes her.” There’s something challenging, even hostile, in Rocco’s tone.
Ruth is coming down for Mom’s party. But when Charlotte asks Rocco when Ruth is arriving, he shrugs. She’s been through enough of his breakups to read the signs, but she can’t decipher these. She can’t tell if he’s getting ready to leave Ruth or if he’s nervous about her safe arrival. Or both.
“She’s coming Wednesday,” Rocco tells Eli, ignoring Charlotte, though she’s the one who asked. “Flying in from Mexico City.”
Charlotte and Eli spend Wednesday exploring the ruins at Mitla, and by the time they get back, it’s evening. Rocco keeps checking his phone and trying to call or text Ruth, but she’s not picking up. Mom says that the last plane from the capital landed around six, so if Ruth isn’t there by eight, she probably isn’t coming and they should go ahead and eat without her and assume she’ll arrive tomorrow.
Rocco says, “You’re okay with that, Mom? That’s how we’re going to leave it? Jesus Christ. She texted me this morning that she was arriving tonight.”
“What am I supposed to do?” says Mom. “Call out the Federales? Believe me, dear, we don’t want the police mixed up in this. That is the last thing