Chapter 16
Neither Manny nor his mother slept that night as they waited for Flora to come home. Three times, he explained what had happened at the store, when Flora and her friends tried to shoplift. Once his mother understood all she needed to know, they walked the streets, looking for any sign of Flora.
Manny fought his exhaustion with anger. Flora had never thanked them for any of the sacrifices they had made for her. Back when he and his mother worked to save money for their move to America, Flora had plenty of time to attend school and hang out with her friends. In fact, she’d probably had too much time, and he could see now that she was spoiled. She hadn’t even gotten in trouble for spending entire days at that resort. Now that they were here in America and Flora was still acting up, he wished he’d taken the time to discipline her. But now, here they were, walking the streets, looking for her, when they should have been sleeping.
After an hour of searching, Mom was limping. She was under too much stress as it was. She didn’t need to worry about Flora too.
“I’m sure Flora’s staying with one of those girls who came to the store with her,” Manny said. “Let’s try to get some sleep. In the morning, I’ll stop by her school and make sure she’s okay.”
His mother patted his hand. “Thank you, Manny. I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
They headed back to the apartment, where they both went to bed, but Manny couldn’t get comfortable on the sofa. Whenever he did drift off to sleep, he would somehow remember that Flora hadn’t come home, and then he would wake up again.
The next morning, while his mother walked to the dry cleaner, he made his way to the high school.
He had been to the enormous red brick building before, when he registered Flora, so he knew that he should first talk to the secretary, an older, Cape Verdean woman who wore a gray, wool suit.
But it was no use. After consulting her computer, the secretary told him Flora wasn’t in attendance.
“Has she missed other days?” he asked.
“Let me see,” she said, typing into her computer. “No. This is her first.”
“Thank you,” he muttered before he turned and walked out of the school. Had something happened to Flora? She wouldn’t miss school out of spite for him, would she? It didn’t seem reasonable, but then again, Flora hadn’t seemed too reasonable lately.
He was sorry that she’d had to move so much, especially to a place as different as America. Twice now she’d had to leave her friends, and he hadn’t taken the time to understand her feelings about that.
He watched the students as they passed him by in the hallway—all of them wearing clothes that looked new and expensive. They weren’t at all like the clothes his mother made on her sewing machine. The colors were muted and the fabrics clung tighter. Even Flora’s best clothes didn’t look like these, and he realized for the first time how hard it must have been for her to fit in at this place. Her friends weren’t the best either—they were after all, influencing her to shoplift. That would never have happened on Fogo.
He pushed against the heavy front door of the school and wandered back out into the dusty, gray September morning.
Whatever Flora’s reasons for being absent, he was going to have to explain all this to his mother. First, though, he wandered through the neighborhood, showing people Flora’s picture and asking if they’d seen her. With each negative response, his anxiety grew.
He remembered the day he’d found her at the resort with the American boy, and he hoped she wasn’t staying with a boyfriend, or worse, a man friend. He knew from experience that she wasn’t the best at choosing boys, and he wished she’d wait until she was older to get into a serious relationship.
What scared him even more was that a few of the people on the streets that morning didn’t look too reputable—there was the man with over-dilated eyes, a teenage boy who seemed way too jittery, and a woman who kept shouting out obscenities. Flora could easily be hanging around with people like these.
When it was time for him to go to work, he called his mother at the dry cleaner. “Flora wasn’t at school, Mama. I’m sorry.”
His mother didn’t respond immediately. He heard her exhale. “I was afraid of this. The other ladies at work said they’d help me talk to the police about her. They say I can file a missing persons report after she’s been gone twenty-four hours.”
He’d heard about that kind of thing on television. “That sounds like a good idea.”
All day while he helped customers and tried to appear cheerful, he replayed the scenario from last night in his head, wondering if he could have reacted in a different way when Flora and her friends tried to steal the beer.
All he’d ever wanted was for Flora to have all the advantages—a good education, healthy food, and excellent medical care—and now she had all those things. It occurred to him that perhaps she also needed someone to listen to her. He and Mama had been so busy with their jobs that they hadn’t taken the time to talk things through with Flora. He remembered what it was like to be young and to make mistakes—especially where Celia was concerned. This mistake of Flora’s was a small one—nothing to run away over—and he wished he could tell her that.
At around six o’clock, Della came in to buy her usual sandwich. She pointed her thumb toward the front of the store. “Flora’s two friends are outside—those two girls who were with her yesterday. They were out front talking, but when they saw me, they shut right up.”
This was his chance, and he had to take it. He fumbled for the key in his pocket and locked the cash register. “I’ll be right back,” he told the customer who was just coming up to buy a gallon of milk.
Rushing out the front door, he saw the two girls, both wearing the same pastel-colored backpacks from the day before. “Hello, girls, can I help you with anything?”
They looked at each other, both trying not to laugh. “Oh, no, we’re just hanging around.”
“Well, then, perhaps you can help me with something. My sister didn’t come home last night. Do you know where she is?”
One of the girls looked like she was about to answer, but the other tugged on her arm. “I’m sorry. We have to get going.” They began to walk away and after a few steps, he heard them giggling.
For now, that was going to have to be his answer—a giggle from two teenage girls. Surely, it meant Flora was safe. They wouldn’t be laughing if she weren’t.