Earlier
ON LEXINGTON AVENUE, DEB SLIDES a pie into the oven, blueberry purpling her fingertips. Billy and Cameron work under the hood of the Ford as Billy says he’ll never forget fixing up a car with his own old man. Cameron twists a ratchet, and his dad asks him to pass the doohickey.
In East Texas, Rachel lies on a trampoline beneath the shade of a cypress tree, sorting babysitting wages and college brochures.
She has two scholarship offers, so she decides to flip a coin.
It lands on heads: OSU. Her path is charted by chance, by fate, by George Washington’s stern profile. She paints her toenails orange.
In Boston, Josie takes her seat among a gaggle of Emerson friends who are catching a show at the Colonial.
She gets the familiar rush of a program in hand, an orchestra in the pit.
It’s such an enduring infatuation that it might be a lifelong love.
Her mother will protest, but the lady doth protest too much.
In Argyle, Jonathan Gutierrez sprays his last house of the day. This treatment is for wood-eating insects, not just the general pest. He clomps around the house while sentences and characters swarm his mind like termites.
In Waco, Ricardo Torres sees a Help Wanted sign on the door of Jed’s Hardware. He opens it to a little chime, and he inquires within. A new city, a new start.
West of Odessa, Nacho sticks taquitos in the microwave and asks Izzy if she wants one.
In some other place, a man touches a woman.
Another place, a fire sparks.
In some other time, April floats inside her mother during a City Hall union.
Another time, Deb sits with her father, giggling at Sunday comics.
Another time, Billy’s mother plays a nocturne as he plays Jacks beside the piano.
Another time, Leo submits his résumé to Argyle High School, his fingers crossed.
Another time, Rico takes Ana to a Selena concert, where she sings her heart out.
It is 1988 or 2013 or 2031, and they are members of a family, flowers on a vine.
One particular evening in 2013, Leonardo Torres is carefully setting a table—two bowls, two spoons, and a pair of white taper candles.
He has made pozole, seasoning it just so.
Between the candles rests a book with a simple engagement ring tucked between its pages.
Leo is wearing cologne. April will be here any minute, and so he scans the room.
Music, he remembers, so he clicks on a speaker.
Warmth, he remembers, so he hurries to the hearth.
Eager, Leo kneels down and sets a log on the grate. In one swift motion, he strikes a match, the fire blazing to life. Behind him, there’s a gentle knocking.
He stands and wipes his palms on his pants.
He goes to the door.
And he opens it wide.