The Memories of Ana Calderón by Graciela Limón

and slowly, Tavo. Remember all the times you’ve had to go to the toilet at this time and nothing has ever happened. Think that I’ll be coming right after you and that you’ll be safe.”
    Holding hands, the three children cautiously inched their way toward the outhouse. Everything seemed to be going right until the noise of clanking tin tore at the silence. One of the children had stumbled on a plate. There was stirring, and someone grumbled, “Damn kid! Watch where you’re going!” Rodolfo, holding his breath, caught sight of the three forms vanishing behind the outhouse. Then there was silence.
    Again forcing himself to let time slip by, Rodolfo took Jasmín into his arms. He was unable to know if she was asleep or unconscious. His heart sank, however, when his fingers and forearms felt that her small body had become so thin and frail that it weighed hardly anything. Shocked, he cradled his daughter against his body as he felt the bones of her rib cage dig into his flesh. He had known for days that his daughter was ill, but it wasn’t until that moment that he realized how close she was to death.
    These sensations instantly diffused the fear that had been building up inside of Rodolfo. The few seconds that had elapsed between the moment he had taken Jasmín in hisarms and his understanding of her condition forced him to become acutely aware of only one thing, and that was that he had to take his child to where she could be helped. He moved swiftly to his feet and began to make his way toward the outhouse. Alejandra followed him nervously.
    Without thinking, he cast away all the precautions he had mapped out for himself; he didn’t even bother to crouch or to step carefully and quietly. He was indifferent to whatever he might step on causing a commotion, or what he might trip on, or that he might awaken this or that other person. At that moment Rodolfo was aware of only one thing: that if anyone blocked his way, he would kill that person. Nothing, he realized, could stop him from taking this child as well as the other ones out of that camp of wretchedness and degradation.
    No one noticed the man holding the skinny child in his arms. Rodolfo and Alejandra made it to the outhouse and beyond to the oak tree, where the others were waiting for them. Without speaking, he led his brood, walking away from the ranch toward the road leading to Hermosillo. The night became less dark as time passed, but the dust churned up by their feet began to make everyone cough.
    â€œâ€™Apá, where are we going. I’m tired.”
    â€œWe’re almost there. Just a little bit more.”
    Finally, they turned a bend in the road and came up to a battered Model-T truck. The driver jumped out from his seat and approached Rodolfo. They spoke for a while, apparently haggling, almost arguing in a low tone of voice. Ana now understood what her father’s whisperings over past days had meant. It had all been part of a plan to get them away from
Rancho la Concepción
.
    The stranger looked at the children who stood in a circle around him.
“¡Vámonos!”
    Rodolfo laid Jasmín on the front seat of the cab, then the men helped the rest of the children onto the rear end of the truck. The driver, Reyes Soto, told them to hang on tight because they were going a long way, and that when they woke up the next day, they would be on the other side of the border in a town called Nogales.

    Their names were Harry and Opal Carney, and it was the first time we had ever seen people like them. They looked different and we couldn’t understand their language, but they were kind to us when they saw that Jasmín was sick. They even got a doctor for her, but it was too late. My sister died a little bit after we arrived in Nogales.
    When we had crossed the border, Reyes stopped at a gas station while we went to the toilet. Everyone except Jasmín. I think it was then that Reyes became frightened