white with anger, a familiar sight—it was obvious she’d heard everything the priests had said. She opened her mouth to speak just as her dad came up from behind her and gently gripped her shoulder. Iridian and Rosa were behind him. He leaned down, said something into Jessica’s ear, and started to steer her away. It was time to go. Jessica left with her words unspoken.
The gathering went on. There was still food to be eaten and rumors to be spread about Rafe’s no-good luck and his problems with money and women and life in general, but, in other corners of the house, talk had shifted to the upcoming basketball season and concerns about the neighborhood: rising taxes, petty fines imposed for minor code violations, and families who’d lived in the same house for decades being bought out by developers. There were For Sale signs on almost every street now.
Father Canty finally arrived and joined the huddle of priests. They were on their third helping of King Ranch chicken when Jessica returned. She stormed in through the front door and then right past us, the massive folds of her blue dress swishing around her legs. She smelled like sweat and lawn clippings. She was sisterless, fatherless, alone.
She stopped in front of the group of priests, waiting for them to notice her. When they didn’t, she reached out and tugged on the sleeve closest to her. It belonged to the one who had referred to Ana as “rebellious.”
That priest turned, and the others did the same. Collectively, they wiped the corners of their mouths with their napkins and shifted their expressions to ones of well-practiced sympathy.
“You didn’t know Ana!” Jessica shouted. She spun toward Father Canty. “You didn’t know her, so don’t talk about her like you did!”
If Father Canty was stunned by the confrontation, he didn’t show it. Instead, he stepped forward and bent at the waist so that he was eye to eye with Jessica.
“My dear,” he said tenderly, “I know this is a very difficult time for you, but you are a young woman, and as such, you have to consider that there are many things in life you do not yet understand.”
Jessica lunged. With an open palm, she hit Father Canty in the face. Then she screamed and raked her nails across his cheek.
Hector’s dad rushed forward. He pulled Jessica away, hoisting her into the air, where she continued to kick and thrash, her dark braid whipping around her head. Her dress rode high, exposing the length of her brown legs. Father Canty pressed a napkin against his face and seemed surprised to see, when he pulled it away, that the girl had managed to draw blood.
Jessica was almost through the door of the room when she threw out her hands, gripped the frame, and braced herself there.
“Don’t tell me I don’t understand!” she screamed. “Ana was not a liar! You’re the liar, old man! You!”
Hector’s dad was pulling hard, but Jessica wouldn’t budge. She turned her head and spit in his eye. She tore the paint from the doorframe the same way she’d torn the skin from the priest’s face. Finally, brave Mrs. Bolander went over and pried Jessica’s fingers from the doorframe one by one.
“I hate you!” Jessica yelled, as Hector’s dad tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of lawn fertilizer and carried her through the front door. “I hate you all!”
We watched through the window, mouths agape, as Jessica Torres was carried across the street to her house. The whole time, she kept kicking and screaming.
If anything, once outside, her screams got even louder.
Jessica
(Tuesday, June 11th)
Jessica stocked birthday cards, lip balm, bags of little chocolate bars, whole milk, skim milk, almond milk, soy milk. She worked the register for an hour, and people kept coming in, one right after another after another. She tried to guess what they would buy, and she was right about forty percent of the time. When it came time for her lunch break, Jessica sat in the back room, humming to herself, eating some nearly expired deli meat and cheese she’d bought from the refrigerated section and drinking a cherry Diet Coke. It was all very