Harpo

But beside all that, every small pretty American girl needs to put her life at risk once in awhile. It distracts us from the surplus mental fat we deem as suffering. I’ve even stopped whining.

The neighbors in my New Jersey cul-de-sac love to talk. And ever since we moved here my mother started talking too.

“I swear that dad and I are moving, if not for the leafblowers wailing twenty four fucking hours a day then for Pam’s horrendous new vinyl siding.”

To be fair, the leafblowers never do stop wailing, and the vinyl siding is horrendous.

“Jersey suburbs are New York City’s artificial consumptive neighbors. Prosthetic obese appendages,” I wrote in my journal that night.

It was fun to play fill-in-the concept-with-words in the English version, nuances and all. But they were really just words. In truth I couldn’t have been happier to be home to America’s amenities. Hot showers. Double ply toilet paper. Bagels. Abortions.

“What are houses made of in Ecuador?” my mother asked.

“Concrete.”

I felt like an expert all of a sudden.

I took a six hour bus ride to visit Ty at the orphanage. I figured I could squeeze an article for the newspaper out somewhere. Ecuador’s water appropriation was a hot topic at the time and I assumed—correctly—that orphanages were getting a paltry end of the deal.

I was also itching to see Ty again. I didn’t seem to be interacting with anybody sans detached amusement. My latest friends included a Colombian architect with a crack addiction, a lackluster Mormon missionary from Salt Lake, and a cherub-like arsonist from Argentina. These were the interactions I wrote home about, but in my most private of spheres they didn’t exceed good material. Ty was the only one who could make fun of his own damn self.

I arrived at León while it was still dark. It was much warmer in these coastal towns. The air was lighter and cleaner, the vegetation denser. The cabbie dropped me off at a church gate and charged me two American dollars. He was actually ripping me off, but I was in no mood defend principles for pennies. He told me the neighborhood was dangerous, that he’d do anything to help out “una gringita muy sexy,” so he’d wait behind me while I rang the bell. He parked very close. This made me feel far more antsy than any potential crimes lurking in the trees. He left only when I mimed excitement at someone approaching. “Someone comes now, thank you.”

But in reality nobody approached the gate except four pissed off Guinness colored German shepherds. Their wails stung the night’s silence and one by one the orphanage lights turned on. I tried frantically to shush the dogs but they only barked louder. One of them clawed at the gate, which only then did I realize was hanging by a flimsy wooden hinge.