Afterlife - Julia Alvarez Page 0,44

element of high drama. She was going to Nicaragua to join the Sandinistas; she was going to be a human sandbag at the border; she was walking across America barefoot to call attention to the Pies Descalzos Foundation and would not put on a pair of shoes until every child in the world was shod.

But what about when it snows and you’re barefoot in Kansas with half a continent to go? Antonia queried. And how will you know for sure when everyone in the world has a pair of shoes to wear?

There you go again, always ruining everyone’s parade. Izzy shook her head. The naysayers she had to put up with!

Then, there was the time after the election when Izzy bought a bullhorn. She was going to park herself in front of the White House, like that lady in The Arabian Nights Antonia was always talking about, and tell Sultan Trump a thousand and one tales in as many nights. What do you think? she asked Antonia.

I think you’ll get arrested.

Meanwhile, ordinary self-maintenance was beneath her standards. Izzy couldn’t hold on to money; she fell for men who took advantage, cheated on her, stole from her, went shopping with her credit card. Lately, the rootlessness. Her house for sale, her house as refugee camp.

Even Dot is looking weary. She keeps returning to the criminal element where she’s on surer ground. What about those ex-boyfriends or refugees in her house—could they have done Izzy harm?

Antonia’s phone rings, a number she doesn’t recognize, but she decides to take the call anyway. She needs get away from Dot’s universe. She excuses herself, slips out the door of the sunporch, and walks a few steps into the dark yard to a wooden bench. Thank goodness she is sitting down when the familiar voice says, Don’t get mad, okay?

She was on her way to Tilly’s. She had every intention of getting there in time for Antonia’s birthday. As a matter of fact, her car is full of gifts. She just happened to be driving through a town where a pottery shop was having a liquidation—

Antonia cuts her off: Do you have any idea what we’ve all been through in the last—what is it now?—nine, ten days? Antonia has lost count. She is sobbing with relief. Izzy is alive! But now that she is, Antonia is ready to kill her.

Izzy does not want to be guilt-tripped. You promised you wouldn’t get mad!

She did? Either way, Antonia better scale it back or Izzy is going to hang up before Antonia can get the information they need to track down their lost sister. For an unreal moment Antonia wonders if this is a trick? Izzy calling from beyond the grave. A heaven wink? A narrative bump? In which case, put Sam on!

Slowly, the rambling story sort of coheres—which is as much as can be expected of any of Izzy’s narratives. Izzy was on her way to Tilly’s but she had to stop to make a deposit on a motel. Turns out the people next door had llamas about to be put down, as the owners couldn’t take care of them. Izzy offered to adopt them. Didn’t you get my message? Izzy asks in a cross voice.

What message? Antonia feels she has entered an alternate universe where nothing follows logically from anything else. Why haul the llamas to Illinois? Tilly lives in the suburbs. There’s probably an ordinance against llamas on Happy Valley Road.

That’s why I called you, Izzy explains. They’d be better off in Vermont. I would have driven them there. But you didn’t pick up.

You knew I was in Illinois, Antonia reminds Izzy. Or did this information even register with their older sister? Could Izzy also have a touch of dementia?

We could drive back from Illinois together, Izzy proposes.

If she wasn’t before, Antonia is sure now. She agrees with Mona: Izzy needs help. Izzy, listen, honey, just tell me where you are, okay?

At some roadside stop, which is why she’s calling. She just went into the bathroom and there was a wanted poster of her on the wall. A really bad photo. It didn’t even look like her. Otherwise someone might have recognized her.

Izzy, this is serious, Antonia interjects. The police are looking for you; we hired a private investigator. The time and money they’ve spent. Most of all, the anguish.

You’re raining on my parade! Izzy scolds in her I’m-the-oldest tone of voice. How dare a younger sibling tell her what’s what.

Antonia can hear it; she’s losing