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the world should happen to appear in the form of Pepe from down the road, offering a plate of his mother’s tamales in exchange for a bag of chilies, or the milkman with his weekly delivery, Carmen didn’t lower her legs, or adjust her skirt, not even an inch. Instead, she’d smile wickedly and watch to see if they stole a glance at her generous behind, which they always did. Then she’d laugh, as if she’d just proven something very important to herself, although Jamilet couldn’t imagine what it was, but she laughed along just the same, and returned her aunt’s triumphant wink when the show was over.
    The truth was that Jamilet agreed to most things her aunt proposed, and Carmen was prone to sharing her opinion on a wide variety of topics: the need for a cold beer first thing in the morning to clear the mind; the energy wasted on too much courtesy; the secret arrogance that lived in the hearts of the overly modest, just to name a few. But for Jamilet, the important thing was to be in Tía Carmen’s good graces, and to bask in her laughter when it filled the house like a party of twenty or more.
    When Lorena turned up her nose at her sister’s foul language or when Gabriela gave up an irritable plea for the Lord to guide her lost soul, Jamilet was quiet, and in the stillness of her thoughts, at the very center of her cautious admiration, she cheered. How could she harbor criticism in her heart for Tía Carmen, the only person she knew who wasn’t afraid of the mark? In fact, Carmen didn’t pay it much attention at all and wasn’t spooked or bothered by the idea of curses and punishments from God. Jamilet knew that Carmen would teach her how to be strong and how to face the world with her chin up and shoulders back. She’d undoubtedly approve of Jamilet’s manly disguise and they’d laugh until they were rolling on the floor like drunken horse hands. She could imagine every detail of their exchange, and clearly heard her aunt’s voice booming above the droning motor of the bus…
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    â€œAnd you can forget about all those dainty rules your mother and grandmother fed you since you were a baby. They won’t do you a damn bit of good here.”
    â€œI’ll forget everything, Tía,” Jamilet says, smiling. “I’ll even forget my own name if you want me to.”
    Carmen stares at her quizzically. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she says.
    Together, they walk out into the city. The ground beneath their feet is polished marble, like the floor leading to the altar at church. The buildings surrounding them are a multitude of angular shapes and colors that reach beyond the clouds. Tía looks around, and even she, who’s never been too impressed by anything other than a good-looking man’s backside, is momentarily reverent.
    â€œThere’s no dirt on the ground here,” she says. “And look up.” She points to the uppermost edge of the city, where concrete and glass give way to open sky as blue as any ever seen. “These are the kinds of miracles you can believe in here.”
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    In less than two days, Jamilet was crossing the desert, her path illuminated only by the light of the stars because flashlights might attract unwanted attention. It was more dangerous to attempt crossing without an experienced coyote to guide them, since coyotes knew the passes through the canyons, and the bandits who roamed the border looking for Mexicans to rob. But Jamilet had joined six others near the border who, like her, had no way of securing the money for such a luxury. They’d decided to brave the crossing on their own. They’d be safer, and traverse many more miles walking through the desert during the cooler nights. In three days’ time, if all went according to plan, they’d cross the Rio Grande at a calm, shallow stretch of river and emerge on the other side where all was prosperity and