The Director called the next morning when Lethe was still in bed. The Senora was slicing vegetables in the kitchen, full of anxious vigor. “Si . . . si . . . un momento.”

Lethe crawled out of bed and came into the kitchen. He looked like a ball of melted wax; expression hadn’t seeped into his face yet. He took the phone from the Senora’s hand and pressed his ear against the garlic-smelling receiver. The Director’s gruff, commanding voice greeted him: “Good morning, Lethe.”

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Chapter 22

Lethe exults in his new-found friendship with the Spaniards.  The Senora is skeptical and wary of his overflowing enthusiasm.  Will he be able to make a smooth transition from lonely and anguished to popular and loved?

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