Chương 1: Robin the Problem

"I feel like I'm dying."

"Don't say that!"

"I'm sorry Tita."

"Don't be sorry! Una said, sharper than she meant. Robin Martillo hung his head. A lock of brown hair fell into his eyes. He clutched a turquoise basin, shaped like a kidney bean. She hoped he wouldn't need it, this time. He needs a haircut, Una thought. Robin began to cough. He did need the basin. Maybe not, Una decided. A haircut was two dollars, after all. It was an ugly thought. Robin began to cry afterward. Guilt hit her hard.

"Let's go back inside and get you cleaned up. There's some on your shirt. Do you need my help?"

"I can do it," Robin said. She waited outside the boy's room, and when he came out, the basin was clean. She eyed the fabric; that was his church shirt. Robin had done a good job scrubbing it off. It wouldn't stain.

"Are you ready to go home? We can wait until you settle."

"I'm okay."

"Do you want to walk over? I can pull around." He needed the basin again. Better here than in the car, Una thought. Her bad hip creaked and complained. She was too worried to pay it any mind. The pale blue station wagon baked in the Albuquerque noon. The clear coat on the hood was cloudy and cracked. Though the engine was warm, it still took three tries to turn over. Una frowned at the fuel gauge. Almost empty. She could still remember the day she drove it off the lot, full of new-car smell and spotless.

It was 1961. What a weekend that was! First place at a golf tournament in Vegas while Hector cleaned up at slots. They'd always wanted her to have her own car but it had never been practical. It was such a rush to walk into the dealership with her winnings in her purse. She'd let them do their song and dance about financing. Then, she'd pulled out a wad of cash and watched their faces drop. The manager tried to crawl back on the price but she wouldn't budge. Tómalo o déjalo. (Take it or leave it.) When Una bought the Falcon, JFK was in the White House and Yuri Gagarin was in space. Hector was about to retire after twenty years in the army. Their daughter Lucinda was out in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress. All was well, their only real controversy was whether they ought to retire in Zacatecas or California. Hector was set on San Diego, but Una thought she could win him over if she took it slow. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Eighteen years later, Hector was gone and Una was still in Albuquerque. She lived in the same tiny pink house in Los Griegos. None of them got what they wanted. Lucinda managed a few minor roles but nothing more. She left Hollywood with a baby and a habit. She could never hold a job or stay clean for very long. Robin landed on Una's doorstep many times in the years that followed. The longest stretch was two years, while Lucinda served a sentence at the Narcotic Farm in Lexington, Kentucky.

Una tried so hard to raise the boy right and make amends for all her mistakes with Lucinda. Time and time again, all that work would be undone as Lucinda bounced between boyfriends and in and out of court. That was over now. Lucinda overdosed on New Year's Day. Robin was here to stay. There was no one else left. It was the spring of 1979. Carter was flailing and gas was creeping towards a dollar a gallon. Skylab was about to fall out of the sky. The Falcon was hanging on, somehow.

On that bright day in 1961, Una could have never expected it was the last car she would ever buy. La voluntad de Dios. (God's Will.) Now, the Falcon started when it wanted to. The Bahama Blue paint had faded to pale sky. The headliner fabric drooped in a big bubble at the middle of the roof. Once, she'd caught Robin poking at it and she slapped him, hard. He didn't cry. Robin stared back at her, furious. He was such a willful child, before the sickness.

Her eyes found Jesus on the dashboard, with Mary beside him on her abalone throne.

"Why?" Una asked him, not for the first time. The savior had nothing to say. The pink plastic had faded in the sun, the figurine's back was white as bone. Una put both hands on the steering wheel and took deep breaths. She had to be stronger. Robin seemed a little better when she pulled the Falcon around. She eyed his shirt but it was fine. Una made a mental note, no more church clothes at treatment after this. She drove homeward, toward Los Griegos. The boy stared out the window, too silent. It bothered her.

His fire was out. Una calculated. The Falcon's tires were almost bald, but they could probably coast another month. She turned off Lomas Boulevard into a strip mall. There was a parking space open right in front of the big pink "31" sign. She pulled up and smiled.

"¿Quieres un helado?" (Would you like an ice cream?) Robin shook his head, miserable.

"I can't, Tita." It was so hard to keep the worry from her face. He doesn't even want ice cream. How had it gotten so bad so fast?

"I'll bring you back later, when you feel better," Una promised.

"OK," Robin said. Una prayed for strength and glanced towards the figurines on the dashboard. Past Jesus and Mary she saw a sign. The store beside the ice cream shop was a fresh-painted purple. Over the door, a yellow scroll was painted with chess pieces on either side. Between the king and queen, the scroll read: DUKE GAMES.

"Do you know how to play chess?" Una asked. Robin shook his head. She wasn't surprised. Robin was a wild boy, impossible to keep indoors. All he ever cared about was football and riding bikes with his hooligan friends. A game might give him something to think about besides feeling sorry for himself. But there was no chessboard in the house. Hector used to have a beautiful carved ivory set he'd brought back from Japan. He'd left it to Father Jonás in his will, with Una's blessing.

Better with the priest than gathering dust in her cupboard. Robin had perked up. His eyes roamed over the displays of model trains and toy soldiers in the window. They all looked expensive.

"Let's go take a look," Una said, against her better judgement.