I looked away, willing a change in subject. She was still staring at me when I looked back.
“What’s it to you?” I asked, meeting her gaze.
“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Just making conversation.”
“Dr. Vera is coming by tomorrow,” I said. “He says he may know what’s making you sick.”
Anne smirked. “We all know what’s making me sick.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do. Everyone does, even though they won’t say it.”
“This isn’t some ancient family curse, Anne.”
She looked hurt. “It isn’t a curse.”
“I’m sorry.”
We didn’t talk the whole night after that.
. . .
I really liked Dr. Vera. He was smart and funny and really enjoyed his work, even if it sometimes meant trekking through the forest to see out-of-the-way patients like Anne. He grew up in the barrio. He was older, old enough that by the
