explanation.
“She made me go door to door with her selling protein powder to punish me for being in the parade. I went for a few days, but one day we saw my friend Brian and he and I ran off and hid from Mom.”
Simpática shouted, “You are evil!”
Mike continued in Spanish. “Okay, Simpática. And Maya tells me you were angry that she was going to be in the parade?”
Simpática gazed dumbly back at him.
“Did Maya make you angry at the parade?” he prompted.
“Tell him,” Maya said. “Tell him why you didn’t want me to dance on the Sanchez float. I still don’t know myself.”
Simpática’s eyes cleared. “Sanchez is evil!”
“See? That’s what she said to me.”
“Why is Sanchez evil?” Mike asked.
Her eyes got large. “He is rich! Much money! And evil!”
Mike was bewildered. “Did he do something bad to you?”
Simpática would not elaborate. “He is evil! He sleeps with this one and that one!”
Mike turned to Maya for an explanation, but she just shrugged. “Why are you angry at Mr. Sanchez?”
Rather than answer, Simpática fell to her knees and clasped her hands to her chest, then began praying aloud in Spanish. “Jesus, please forgive my daughter Maya who lies to her mother. Please do not let my daughter go to hell, Jesus, because I love her.”
“Oh, Mom, stop,” Maya said.
But Simpática continued, lapsing back and forth between English and Spanish, her voice rising and falling. Then when she realized she was being ignored, she crawled to Maya’s side and hugged her around the waist. “You are my baby, Maya. I lauve you. You are my baby. Don’ tell lies. The Padre, Maya. The Padre.”
By now Mike was certain he would not accomplish anything here. He considered leaving but saw the tension on Maya’s face and remembered it was she, after all, who called him for help. He decided to give it ten more minutes.
“Wait, Simpática. Please sit down. I wish to ask a question.”
She looked at him.
“That you sit on the couch? That we talk?”
“Yes,” she nodded, the aloof expression returned and