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CHAPTER SEVENAs they neared Old Town, Linda Martinez murmured in a small, sad voice. “They must hate me. I remember the last words Orlando spoke to me. Felix was throwing his possessions out on the front lawn. Orlando looked at me with those black eyes of his and he said, ‘Mama, you’re choosing him over me. Mama, how can you choose him over me? I’m your child.’ He kept screaming that at me.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” Naomi said consolingly. “Orlando understands. He doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He and Manny want to see you so much.”
Ernesto felt sorry for Mrs. Martinez. She had lived in anxiety and fear for so long that she did not know how to be happy, how to hope. She expected the worst. Ernesto glanced into his rearview mirror. Clay Aguirre wasn’t following them anymore. Ernesto tur
