Hemingway's Girl by Erika Robuck Page A

in the rain, but guilt slapped
     that thought away. After all, she had been on a boat all day with Papa.
    A sudden fatigue gripped Mariella from the weight of her physical and emotional burdens.
     She looked into the mirror and pulled her long dark hair out of its tie, letting it
     spill around her face. She smelled her own stink from the day on the boat, and her
     stomach growled. Her head pulsed from a lack of food and too much beer and sun. She
     started the water in the tub. It was ice-cold, because there was no money to heat
     it. Mariella peeled off her dirty clothes, stepped into the tub, and washed herself.
     Beforelong, her body became accustomed to the chill, and she sat still, mindful of how alive
     the sharply cold water made her feel.
    In the quiet, Hemingway crept into her thoughts—the touch of his fingers on hers and
     his kiss on her forehead. She knew he’d wanted to kiss her mouth, and was surprised
     at how unafraid she’d been. He was going to be her undoing.
    When she heard the front door slam and Lulu come babbling into the house, Mariella
     stood and stepped out of the tub. She dropped her dirty clothes in the water to soak,
     dried off, reached for her dress hanging on the back of the door, combed her wet hair,
     and walked down the hallway in bare feet to start dinner.
    “You got dark today,” said her mother from her chair. “Were you at the dock?”
    Mariella debated whether to tell her mother that she went out on the boat with Hemingway
     and decided to tell the truth. Lying about it would have meant there was something
     to hide.
    “At first, yes, but then I went out on Mr. Hemingway’s boat.”
    “Was anyone else with the two of you?”
    Estelle came out of the room wearing a dry dress, and she and Lulu watched her with
     large, brown eyes.
    “No,” said Mariella.
    Eva looked at the ceiling and started mumbling in Spanish.
    “Did you catch a fish?” asked Lulu. Someone’s stomach growled, and Mariella smiled.
    “Yes, many, many fish. Even a big marlin. I brought home snapper for dinner.”
    “What did you talk about all day long?” asked Eva. “
If
you talked.”
    Mariella turned to glare at her mother, but she had her face turned away, staring
     out the window. Thunder rumbled.
    “Sounds like the sky’s hungry, too,” said Lulu.
    They laughed, and Mariella kissed Lulu on the cheek, again thankful that she was there
     to lighten the mood. Even Eva couldn’t help but smile.
    “We talked about fishing, and sharks,” said Mariella. “And Dad.”
    Eva looked over sharply.
“
What about
tu padre?”
    “Nothing much, just that his father had died, too, and that he was sad when he heard
     about Dad.”
    Mariella felt the air leave the room. She knew her father’s death was a constant source
     of tension, but this quiet felt different. It felt like something holding its breath.
     The thunder rumbled again, more loudly.
    No one said much during dinner. The tension remained, and lingered after she’d done
     the dishes and put the girls to bed. When Mariella stepped into the living room, Eva
     turned and gave her a dark look that made her stomach flip. But then Mariella remembered
     that she was an adult, and straightened her posture. She crossed her arms and leaned
     on the doorframe. Her mother stubbed out her cigarette and smoothed a lock of hair
     off her forehead.
    “I don’t think you should be spending so much time with him.”
    “Why?”
    “Do I have to spell it out?”
    “You do, because as far as I can see, it’s innocent.”
    “¿De verdad?
When his name’s brought up you flush from head to toe. You’re out late at night and
     all day with him. He’s married, and he’s trouble.”
    “I’m not a child.”
    “It doesn’t matter that you’re not a child. I’m older than you, and you can benefit
     from what I know.”
    “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
    Eva turned her head to look out the front window and put her forehead in her