The Focus Effect

Thirty-two

Mr. Cardozo says that we'll use the bridge in Bartica as opposed to Linden. So when we come to a sign that says-Right to Kurukupari River Bridge-we stay left on Rupununi Road towards Bartica. While I drive for the next few hours, Mr. Cardozo drinks tequila. It's not the perfect combination but it's better than the alternative.

"Mr. Cardozo?"

"Sim, menina."

"What is that? What did you just call me?" I ask curiously.

"Menina? It means 'girl' in Portuguese," he answers.

"Mmm," I smile and nod. I say it. "Menina." I like how this word sounds. "Your daughter said something else today. Um...estus sayo bo-neetus," I attempt.

"Ah," he slowly lifts his head up and down before taking another drink from his bottle. "Estes são bonitos. It means-These. Are. Pretty."

I raise an eyebrow and scoff a little. I'm not sure I agree. But I think it's sweet that she said something nice about my markings. I've often wondered what people would think or say about them if I was ever allowed to live a normal life.

"Why doesn't Isadora speak English? I mean, since you do."

He lifts his shoulders. "I was...a businessman once." I believe the drinking is affecting his accent; it's becoming thicker and harder to understand him now. "A long time ago. It was essential for my job that I speak good English. I prob'ly wood haf taught them the language, but," he rolls his shoulders, "when I loose my wife, I loose my job an...I done think is so importante now."

I steal a look at Mr. Cardozo and see the pain on his face and in his eyes. He has been so nice to me that I feel bad for making him think of a bad memory. I also notice that his bottle is almost half empty. I want to tell him I'm sorry that his wife is dead, but it doesn't seem like enough.

"I lost my family." It just comes out. I don't know why I say it. But for the first time, I feel that loss. And for the slightest of moments, I almost remember everything, I almost see their faces. And then it's gone, like the shadow faces of my parents from my dream, fading and leaving me in darkness.

Mr. Cardozo looks at me and smiles. Then he nods and, I'm not sure why he says what he says, but he says, "Thank you." As if to say-thank you for not telling me how sorry you are. Thank you for not telling me that everything will be okay. Thank you for not saying there is a reason for everything that happens. You know-the whole "Every cloud has a silver lining" spiel. I completely get that. He lays the bottle down on the floor and rests his head against the seat. Before I can say anything else, he begins to snore.

I drive until the sun starts to set out the driver's side window, feeling free and daydreaming about what might happen when we reach the American Embassy and I meet this Mr. Brooks guy. After another hour passes, I fumble to find the headlights, swerving a little in the road and waking Mr. Cardozo. Thankfully, there aren't many drivers on this road. I've only passed a handful of cars and a couple rickety buses since I took over.

He stretches and groans and asks, "Are you ready for me to drive yet?"

"That depends. Are you sober?"

He gives me a frown. "You are one of my daughters," he shakes his head. "Pull over, nature is calling."

I laugh at him and accidentally push too hard on the brakes so we end up skidding to a stop. Mr. Cardozo is thrown forward against his seat belt.

"Easy touch!" he shouts, unlatching his belt. "Easy, please." He opens the door and steps out behind the truck to answer his call from nature. When he returns, I slide over into the passenger seat so he can drive. He sets two oranges and two sandwiches on the dash and lays two bottles of water on the seat between us. "We are making good time," he notes as he puts the truck into drive. "When we reach Bartica we will wait until dawn to cross this new bridge. I don't know what to expect there so I want you in the back when we do. We are less likely to be searched, I think, if we cross with other commuters during the morning hours. From there it should be no problem. I'll have you to the embassy by 9 am," he smiles. He slides a sandwich and an orange my way. "You should eat and try to get some rest," he says before unwrapping one for himself.