Page 47

Sofía, the single mom

The boys and I head back to camp to drop off our stuff and find Javi’s binoculars. Lei runs over to the kitchen area, where Raymond hasn’t stopped cooking since we arrived on the island. It’s completely unnecessary. The kids just pick off the fancy mushrooms and wipe off the homemade ketchup. Cooking disconnects him from this experience. Cassie is right about him. That doesn’t make her right about her daughter, though. Dios mío, Cassie. By now, she must have told everyone about me splashing Lily. I check the campground for her. The PO moms sit on the picnic tables, growing quiet when they spot me. The Hollywood parents, the doctors, and the lawyers all stare too. This will replace Sneakergate as the defining moment of third grade. In the distance, Dave emerges from his tent, drying his hair with a towel. He finds me across the way, his good-spirited energy replaced with something so wary I can sense it. I expect Cassie to step out after him, to storm over to yell at me and make a scene that will excite all these parents.

Instead, Javi emerges from the tent beside Dave. Because we are still camped right beside them. His binoculars hang from his neck. These, at least, belong to us. Juan bought them for Javi on his last birthday. I think of Juan, his full belly laugh when I tell him what I’ve done. I think of being home, on continental land, on summer break, with enough time and miles away from this trip to make it a distant memory.

For now, I call to the boys to get going so I won’t have to see Cassie. For now, I avoid a fight that’s inevitable. It’s just a matter of time.

Lei inspects the hillside as we walk toward the lower loop. “See anything?”

The binoculars cover half of Javi’s face as he runs them across the hills. “Nope.”

“Let’s check around the picnic tables.” Lei heads down the path as Javi races to keep up. I stay a few paces behind, giving them several feet of freedom. Their joy is almost contagious. Then I remember Dave’s face, the shock when he’d climbed back into the kayak. I recall his daughter’s propensity for cruelty, his wife’s. More than anything, I’m deeply embarrassed. I can’t control how they behave, but I should be able to regulate myself.

I don’t realize I’ve slowed my pace until I notice that the boys are too far ahead. I pass more picnic tables and the kayak-company huts as I run to catch up with them.

“Guys,” I shout. “Wait up.”

I reach them at the two tables outside the ranch house’s gate, where a family is hurriedly unpacking a metal storage locker as they shout for the boat to wait. It’s sitting at the end of the pier, loaded with travelers. The woman stuffs her jacket into her backpack as she runs down the path to the dock. Lei scans the hills above the buildings with his binoculars as Javi kneels down to peek below the old farm equipment.

“Anything?” I ask them. Lei shakes his head no, without removing the binoculars from his face.

“There,” he shouts. I follow his finger toward the tail of a fox as it trots down the path between the Visitor Center and the gated house. There’s another fox standing there, watching us.

The boys start running.

“Not too fast,” I call, jogging behind them. “You’ll scare it off.”

When we get to the edge of the fence around the ranch house, the fox runs down the path. I put my hand out to stop the boys from following and bring my index finger to my lips. I tiptoe down the path. The boys follow, muffling giggles. We take a step closer, then another. The fox stops. Its ears perk up as it hears us. Then it turns to stare at us. It’s no bigger than a chihuahua, with a stubbed little nose, and brown and gray hair. For a moment none of us move. Then, suddenly, the fox slips beneath a gate.

We run toward it to discover the gate is locked. A sign notes that the space is off limits for bat roosting.

“What’s that mean?” Lei asks.

“They’re having babies,” Javi explains.

“How’d you know that?” I ask, impressed.

“YouTube,” he says.

“Let’s try the other side.” Lei grabs Javi’s arm, and the boys run down the alley toward the other end.

“Not so fast,” I whisper, not wanting to scare the fox, as I’m unsure how many more may be back there. “Let me go first.” Even if there isn’t a pack of foxes lying in wait, there might be snakes. Mice with hantavirus.

They stay back as I slip beneath a set of stairs and tiptoe around the side of the building, hoisting my socks up my calves to avoid contact with any potentially poisonous plants.

I peek my head around the back of the building, ready to jump back if a fox decides to attack.

What I see instead is more startling.

Charles is about fifty yards down, leaning against the building with his eyes closed and lips parted. Below him, someone is on their knees. They’re both wearing the blue fleece jacket we all have. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Cassie. When I do, I let out a little “Oh” of surprise before I can prevent it.

Cassie pulls away as Charles leans up and opens his eyes. They angle away from me. Behind them I see the tails of two foxes dart up the hillside.

“Do you see it?” I hear Lei call, his voice getting closer. This snaps me out of my daze; Charles, too, as he reaches down to zip his fly. Cassie stands, removing something from her tongue with the tips of her pointer finger and thumb.

I race back around the side of the building, catching Lei before he rounds the side.

“Didn’t I tell you to wait?” I say.

“Did you see it?” He angles his head around me. Fortunately, he’s not at the right position to see the far side of the building.

“It’s gone.” My heart is pounding so forcefully that I’m sure the boys can hear it. “I bet more are hanging around the bathrooms by the dock. I think I saw one there earlier.”

Both boys scream as they march toward the front of the building in the direction of the dock. They open and close storage lockers and peek beneath them. I expect to spot Cassie and Charles walking out from behind the building, but there’s no sign of them, almost as if I imagined it.

“Up there.” Javi points to the hillside, where two foxes waddle up the hill to the path above, where we hear someone say, “Shoo.”

“That’s two more,” Lei squeals.

“This is so exciting,” my son agrees.

I sense someone behind me and notice Cassie walking away from the Visitor Center. I expect her to march toward me. Instead, she heads in the opposite direction toward the campsite. A few moments later, Charles emerges. Before he can sneak by us, Lei spots him.

“Dad,” he screams, running toward his father, unalarmed that his father has appeared out of nowhere. Then again, Charles did say that he was going to the Visitor Center to send an email. A cover I helped provide for him. “We saw four more foxes.”

“Did you?” Charles throws his arm around his son’s shoulders. He peers over at me hopefully. I’m not sure what expression I offer him in return. I’m nauseated. Disgusted. Yet there’s another electric sensation beneath my judgment. It’s the feeling of power.