2When we arrived home and my mother opened the door, I was wrapped in a sling strapped to her back. Grandfather Mendoza was asleep on the sofa in the sitting room, as usual at midday. He rarely went to his own house nearby, other than to sleep at night.
My mother pushed the door and went inside. ‘I stood stock–still in front of him,’ she said, referring to my grandfather. ‘Father was in front of me and the door behind me. I didn’t expect to go to my room until I’d had my share of insults, and maybe a beating! I was going to show respect by bending down, picking up his hand and holding the back of his hand against my forehead. But then I remembered how he had slapped Aida some years back.’
‘“Father!” I called.
‘He didn’t wake up so I raised my voice and tried again. “Father.”
‘He opened
