May We Be Forgiven

leading cause of tourist death, and about how many people are mugged at the airports, and that there’s been increased violence against white people and diseases like Ebola, and that if you’re stopped at a red light at night, people will come and smash your windows and grab whatever is in your car, or hijack you.
    “Thanks for all the advice,” I write back. “I’ll assume from the attachments that you’ll be joining us in spirit but not in person.”

    S hopping heavily from both the Oriental Trading Company and the Lillian Vernon catalogue, Sofia has ordered pencils, notebooks, and backpacks for every kid in the village. She’s packed giant plastic tubs with soccer jerseys, school supplies, musical instruments, sheet music, a cassette player, and a recorded copy of all the songs she wants them to learn, along with devil’s-food cake mix, chocolate frosting, sprinkles, and candles.
    Meanwhile, on the floor of George’s office are four suitcases that I’ve been packing with clothing for the children—the same items for each kid but in different sizes and colors. I take Ricardo and Ashley to Dr. Faustus for shots, and arrange for Nate to get what he needs at school.
    And as I prepare, I worry; I don’t doubt that the villagers’ affection for Nate is genuine, but without the money backing him up, they would be less enthusiastic. Not wanting to detract from his moment, I say nothing to Nate, but I am aware they are working us for our sympathies, for whatever we can give, as well they should—if ever there was a population entitled to reparations, this is it.

    D uring an increasingly rare afternoon rendezvous, Amanda tells me there’s more to know about the murdered girl, Heather Ryan.
    “Like what?”
    “Like when I found her wallet I found some other stuff too.”
    I look at her. “Like what?” I repeat.
    “Gym clothes, notebooks from school—stuff.”
    “Do you ever think of giving it back to her family?”
    “No,” she says.
    “Why not?”
    “They have a whole lifetime of her stuff, but this is all I have,” she says.
    “But they are her family—”
    “And she is me,” Amanda says, cutting me off.
    “So, when you said there’s more to know about her, what did you mean?”
    “Her cell phone still works.”
    “I guess her parents haven’t turned it off yet. I’m sure it’s not the first thing on their list.”
    “She gets messages. …”
    “What kind of messages, and from who?”
    “Voice mail from her best friend.”
    “Really?” I ask, surprised.
    Amanda nods and hands me the phone. “The first one is from the day she went missing,” she says, pushing the voice-mail button and putting it on speakerphone. “Where are you? Helloooo? Call me. Okay, seriously, why are you being so weird? Call. Should I be worried? If you don’t call me in the next five minutes I’m going to call Adam. … Okay, so Adam doesn’t know where you are either. FYI, you’re officially a missing person. … Helloooo! Okay, so, the police told your parents that they found your body in a garbage bag. Your mom screamed and then vomited all over the kitchen floor. Your dad told me and Mrs. Gursky to stay with her, and he left with the police. Mrs. Gursky cleaned up the mess. I took your mom into the living room. I’m not sure what to think. I spent the night in your room with your sister. We just kind of sat up. I kept thinking you’d come home at any moment—and show everyone that this whole thing with search dogs and people canvasing was all a giant overreaction. Your dad got back at about five in the morning. They made him look at your dead body to make sure it was you. How could you be dead? Is it freaky that I’m calling a dead person? I guess I don’t really believe it. It’s like I won’t believe it until you tell me it’s true. You’re the one who always tells me what is and what isn’t, how weird is that? Who am I supposed to talk to now? I went home this afternoon, my parents kept asking if I was okay. I’m not okay, but I couldn’t take the way they were looking at me, like I was a lost dog. I had to get out of the house, and then all these reporters were chasing after me and I went to your house and your family is a mess, which makes sense. The rest of us are, like, in shock. I met Adam at the park; he thinks that it’s all his fault, on account of how he didn’t believe you when you said you weren’t going out with that guy, and that he fucked everything up.