Page 120 of The Deepest Lake

“Don’t go.”

“It might be a car. I have to check.”

“Be careful.”

I look down at my bare, emaciated legs and suddenly feel self-conscious. Besides, I’ll be outside in a minute. I need clothes if I’m going to get out of here. I grab the only pair of pants in the room and begin to slide them on when I hear an alarming grunt, followed by the boom of something slamming onto the ground, just outside the hut. Then a noise I can’t understand, like the sound of a shovel tamping down earth, followed by three higher-pitched grunts, the last one rising to a shriek.

“Mauricio?”

The door opens. Eva stands, backlit, shovel in her hand. Seeing me, she seems to wake from a dream, and pushes into the hut, shutting the inner door behind her.

“Where is he?” I ask.

The moan from outside has grown louder. Eva’s eyes track across me. My abdomen is still flat. My breasts, the same B cup they’ve always been. “Any nausea today?”

I can’t stop hearing the moan.

“Eva, what happened to Mauricio?”

“Come. Let’s sit on the bed. Come.”

She takes my hand and guides me to the edge of the bed. She starts to finger-comb my hair while I sit—rigid, listening.

To cover the sound outside the door, she starts to hum, and the humming makes me feel so agitated I can’t sit still. Without thinking, I shake off her caressing hand. There’s no time for caution anymore.

“Eva, I want to go see my mother. I know she came here.”

Eva laughs, anxiously. It comes out in choking spurts.

“I’ve figured it out,” I say. “Instead of just disappearing, I’ll tell her that this was my choice. I’ll get a chance to make a clean break of things. I can start my new life.”

I measure the distance to the door. I note the tremble in my legs—I can walk, even if I can’t run. The doors aren’t locked. Mauricio is out there, injured or worse.

“It’s too late,” Eva says, her face collapsing.

I recoil, shocked by her words.

“It can’t be,” I say, desperately searching her devastated expression for clues. I can’t let myself believe she’s already done something to my mother. Unless I know for sure, I can’t give up. “It’s never too late. Right, Eva? Talk to me.”

Her gaze goes to the door. “He’s hurt. Enough to get me in trouble.”

“We’re smart women,” I say. “We can find a way out of this.”

“But only if they don’t find him.”

I have to expel my next breath slowly, silently. I give it a moment. Then I ask, “How hurt?”

“Very hurt.”

She lowers her voice, nodding, like she’s thinking it through. “But if he doesn’t show up anywhere, it might be okay. They hardly investigate disappearances in Guatemala. There are just too many.”

“Yes,” I say, grasping at anything. “It will be okay, Eva. Definitely.”

“The day before yesterday, after Mauricio and I had an argument, I told Astrid and Hans that he stole money from us, just to put people off track.” She corrects herself. “And really, he did steal something from me. Just a few days ago, I had a son. Now that person is gone. He doesn’t exist.”

I can feel her spiraling into self-pity. I don’t care about her metaphorical take on things. I need facts.

“The police didn’t come and arrest him?”