The Butterfly’s Daughter Read Free

where it is quiet and safe.”
    Yolanda snorted. “And Luz won’t be able to bolt like Mariposa.”
    Esperanza frowned and looked off into the biting wind. She thought how sharp words could sting when they held the truth. “Perhaps. I must go now.”
    â€œDo you want me to come with you?”
    â€œNo, no, that’s kind of you. I want to do this on my own.”
    Yolanda caught a note in her voice and reached out to gently pat Esperanza’s shoulder in commiseration. “It’s a good plan. I will say a prayer to the Virgencita that it will succeed. ¡Buena suerte! ”she said with a farewell wave, then returned to her raking, muttering curses under her breath at the gust of wind that brought a fresh torrent of leaves to her yard.
    Esperanza hurried to the street corner to catch the bus she saw cruising up the block. She found a seat and looked out the window at the familiar scenery of bungalow houses, brown brick buildings, and fast-food restaurants. There were so many people, she thought. In cars, on foot, in the windows—all strangers and all with their hands rammed into pockets and their faces set in hard frowns. Her mind flitted back to the small village in the mountains where she’d grown up. Everything was green and she knew everyone’s name. Esperanza shivered and tightened her coat. Even after all these years she couldn’t get used to these cold northern winters. No coat was warm enough. She longed for the warmer climate and the simple tranquillity of her home.
    Stepping off the bus, she felt the chill of the winds off Lake Michigan clear to her bones. It took her a minute to get her bearings. She consulted the small piece of paper on which she’d written the directions, then began to walk. After a few blocks, she sighed with relief at seeing the enormous sign: NICE USED CARS .
    It wasn’t much of a car lot. It was an old filling station surrounded by a long line of wire tethered between buildings, affixed with colored plastic flags flapping in the breeze. Beneath was a small collection of random cars, some with new coats of paint that didn’t do a good job of covering rust. The salesman didn’t see her walk onto the lot at first. She knew the moment he spotted her, though, because he instinctively fixed his tie.
    â€œAre you in the right place, dear?”
    â€œI’m where I need to be,” she replied. “Are you going to show me some cars or do I have to look myself?”
    The salesman was a short, beady-eyed man in an ill-fitting suit. He smiled and led her to a midsize sedan. After looking at the sticker, Esperanza shook her head. “Oh no, I can’t afford this car. Please, something more . . .” She didn’t want to say cheap. What was the better word in English? “Affordable.”
    â€œI can do that,” he replied cheerfully, though his smile was more forced now.
    He led her to the far side of the lot, where the prices dropped significantly. She peered into the windows of a Ford Taurus.
    â€œThat’s a nice car there. You’ve got good taste.”
    â€œI don’t know anything about cars.”
    â€œMay I ask why you’re looking for a car now?”
    She looked at the man as though he was addled. “I need one!” she said, then turned to move down the line of cars.
    â€œAre you really here to buy, ma’am? Or just kicking tires.”
    Esperanza didn’t know what he meant by that, so she didn’t reply. She walked down the first line of sad-looking cars, feeling her heart drop into her shoes. Each looked worse than the next. When she turned to the second row she saw the car she’d come for.
    The battered orange Volkswagen was very much like the one that her first husband, Luis, had found abandoned on the side of the road. He’d spent hours repairing it, then he’d taught her how to drive along dusty roads as she ground the gears.
    â€œYou like that