Without Borders (3 page)

With an audible exhale, he loaded himself down like a pack mule and hiked up the stairs. Marisol was at his heels, leaving Annie alone with their mother.

“Your father tells me you’re headed to our old alma mater next year?”

Annie stared at the ground and shrugged. She couldn’t explain the pull that Brown University’s campus had on her. The looming brick buildings and all the wide-open spaces. The leaves morphing from green to canary yellow in the New England fall. The first time Annie had visited, she was ten. Her dad had bought her a red and white Bears sweatshirt at the bookstore, and she wore it every night to bed, even in the summer, until the sleeves were so tattered and small that he ordered two replacements for her birthday.

But if her MCAT scores were any indication, she wouldn’t be heading to Brown. The grueling medical school entrance exam was the reason she’d ended up here, in the middle-of-nowhere Nicaragua. This trip was a desperate, last ditch attempt to pad her resume. “We’ll see,” she said.

“Are you also considering the schools closer to home?” The tilt of Melinda’s head and the frown lines near her mouth gave away her concern.

Annie nodded, but the unspoken question—whether her father’s heart failure meant she should stay close to St. Louis—soured her stomach. His condition was nothing new. His heart had been giving out for more than ten years. But now, his panting and swollen ankles were getting worse, not better, and he needed someone to take care of him. There was no way Annie could manage that from Rhode Island.

She had already given up on Brown once. When she was seventeen, her parents went through a cantankerous divorce. Annie was unsure her father could weather the shock of being abandoned by both the women in his life in such quick succession. That fall, she shredded her Brown application and applied to the pre-med program at St. Louis University.

“I’m sure you’ll get a glowing letter of recommendation when this is all said and done. And from what your father tells me, any school will be lucky to have you.” Melinda’s gaze flicked to the ceiling. “I have to get to this grant request. But if you’re thirsty, there’s a cooler of water on the counter that’s safe for drinking and brushing your teeth. Marisol’s room is upstairs on the left.”

“Thanks.” Annie wondered what else her father had told the woman. He and Melinda had been friends for ages. They’d even been in practice together for a little while. Then Melinda picked up and moved to Nicaragua, where she started
Ahora
with her life savings and a tattered visa. Somewhere along the way, she adopted Marisol and Felipe.

Annie climbed the creaking wooden stairs. Her bags lay in a heap at the top, and she dragged them behind her into Marisol’s empty room. A medley of photos stuck to the walls, their corners curling in the sticky air.

She ran her fingers along the edges of each one as she took in the smiling faces. Marisol and Melinda. Marisol surrounded by a group of smiling children. Marisol and Felipe making faces at each other. Marisol getting what Annie assumed was her nursing degree. Another, blowing out the candles on her cake, while Annie stood to the left, smiling at her friend. Her fifteenth birthday. In the corner of the shot, Felipe’s brooding figure watched Annie watching Marisol.

She walked to the small window, trying to forget her father’s illness and medical school and Mike. Trying to ignore the nagging pull of embarrassment that plagued her every time she saw Felipe’s face—even in those old photos. On the street below, a slight, stooped woman carried two chickens by the feet, letting them dangle upside down. Their wings were motionless and splayed wide.

Twenty-eight days
, Annie told herself, pulling out her phone.
You can stick anything out for four weeks.
She stared at the screen, willing the arcs in the upper left corner to connect her to the world. Her world—the one with air conditioning and Internet and water you could drink straight from the tap. After another minute of searching for a signal, she gave up and powered down the useless hunk of plastic.

Annie leaned her forehead against the bars lining the window. She’d called her dad from the hotel the night before but was only able to leave a message.
What if he’s sick?
The thought hit her like lightning.
What if he’s sick and no one can reach me?

She pushed the power button again.

“That will probably not work on this side of the country.” Felipe stood in the doorway, shaking his head. Annie jumped at his voice and the phone spilled from her hands, clattering to the wooden floor. “I have told my mother to tell the Americans, but she always forgets. It will probably not work on the trip either. You should leave it here.”

She ducked her head and crouched to pick up the phone. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Do you need to call someone?”

“My dad. Do you have a phone?”

The edges of his mouth turned down, and he crinkled his forehead. Annie’s throat went dry. That look of pure concentration was as horrifyingly gorgeous as his smile. “My mother has a phone she loans to the foreigners.”

“Really?”

Felipe laughed, and the dimple emerged. “Come.”

Downstairs, the office was empty. He pulled a long, black block with an extendable antenna from Melinda’s cluttered desk. It looked like something from a NASA museum. “You must dial the country code first,” he said.

Annie nodded. “Thank you.” Her voice trembled, and Felipe rushed toward the front door, as if he couldn’t stand being in the same space with her for one second longer.

She dialed, and a long pause filled the phone’s speaker between rings.

“Yellow, London residence.”

“Dad?”

Silence.

“Dad? Can you—”

“Annie!” His voice overlapped hers, and they began talking simultaneously, stopping and starting again. “Are you having a good time?” he asked. “Making a good impression?”

She turned toward the wall of crooked photos, her eyes too blurred with tears to make out any of the faces. “I don’t know. I—” She sagged against the wall. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I need to come home. What if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen? You’ll be fine.”

A whimper escaped Annie’s chest. “No, what if something happens to
you
? I’ll be all the way over here.” She waited for her plea to cross the gulf and hit her father’s ear.

“Listen, Ann. I’m fine. You’re not putting your dreams on hold again because your dad’s getting old.” His voice was a mash of sternness and warmth. The same one he had used when someone stole her bike in elementary school. When her beloved pet guinea pig died. When her appendix ruptured junior year of high school.

“You’re really feeling okay? Tell me the truth. Are you remembering your meds? Weighing yourself?”

“Yes. Every day.”

“I still think I should come home.”

“Why?”

“The doctor, Marisol’s brother, I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Felipe? Why would you think that?” He coughed, and Annie’s heart cracked.

“Just a feeling.” She straightened, and a drop of sweat rolled down her chest. “I need a great letter of recommendation. It’s dumb to spend an entire month here if I can’t get it.”

“Annie,” he sighed, “it’s
dumb
to turn down the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I think I already blew it.” Static cut through their connection.

“What was that? Annie? You there?” Concern climbed her father’s voice.

“I’m here.” She sighed through the words.

“If you want to get into Brown, you have to stand out. Learn everything you can. Observe every procedure. Ask questions and write down all the answers. When you get home and work on your essays, you’ll have it all right there in front of you. Brown’ll be knocking on our door, begging for you.”

“Learn everything. Write it down.” She fiddled with the end of the antenna.

“Exactly. And, Annie?” She waited through the beat of silence until he spoke again. “I’m proud of you. You’ll be glad you did this. I promise.”

• • •

Felipe stood on the sparse front lawn, unfolding the last leg of
Ahora’s
long banquet table. A giant, pale hand appeared in front of his face. “Let me give you a hand with that, bro.” The voice stretched the words, running the vowels together in a way that made Felipe’s brain ache.

The American poster boy looked like a life-sized replica of the Ken doll Marisol was so attached to as a kid. Some tourist had given it to her, a hand-me-down from a box of toys their own child had outgrown. When she was eleven, she took it everywhere.

“You must be Phillip.” Felipe put on his most formal English.

“Did you recognize me? You must have recognized me. Even all the way out here. The Internet age, man. The Internet age!” His hyper-white teeth glowed.

Felipe assumed his ability to understand was being impeded by the man’s drawling accent. “Can you lift that side?” He pointed to the opposite end of the table.

“I got it.” The blond man flipped the creaky table upright, its legs digging into the dirt, not a trace of effort in his features. “What’s your name? I mean,
cómo te llamas
?”

“Felipe.”

“Wow, man. Phillip and Felipe. It’s like you’re the Nicaraguan version of me. Have you ever been on a reality show? Because that would be too much.”

“No, I do not think so.” He frowned. “You are the American dentist, yes?”

“Dental student, actually. On a short hiatus,” Phillip said as the third member of
Ahora’s
regular crew stepped outside.

Juan was a dentist from Managua and the oldest of them, fast approaching his sixties. The years of sun and stress had etched deep wrinkles into the corners of his eyes. His thick greying mustache obscured his upper lip and some of his words. But the ones he offered today were bubbling with wry humor. “I see you have met our celebrity.”

“
Sí
,” Felipe said.

“Your mother says to play nicely with the Americans.” Juan’s Spanish was a harsh stage whisper, and Felipe turned his gaze toward Phillip. He simply looked at them, clueless and grinning.

“What’s with that guy?” Phillip asked as Juan stepped inside. “He barely said anything the entire drive here yesterday. I—” His mouth fell open. “Whoa.”

Felipe followed the man’s stare to the front door. Where Juan had entered the house, Marisol exited.

“Who’s that? Because, damn.” Phillip shook out his hand like it was on fire.

Marisol sashayed her way across the yard with Annie at her heels.

“¡
Hola
! Are you Phillip?” Marisol embraced the guy and kissed his cheek. Phillip’s eyes flicked to her chest as she pressed against his upper arm. “I am Marisol, the nurse.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He flashed his teeth, and Felipe tried not to roll his eyes as Marisol practically melted under the intensity.

“Hi, I’m Annie.” She gave a quick wave but hung back, her forehead crinkled. “You look so familiar.”

She knows
this
guy, but when you pick her up from the airport she has no idea who you are?
Felipe’s gaze landed on a handful of defiant curls that had escaped her ponytail, wild with the humidity and the wind. Last night, one had brushed his cheek as she leaned in, and he could still feel it against his skin.

“Did you see
Barnyard Boyfriend
?” Phillip cocked his chin and tilted his forehead in what Felipe recognized as a well-practiced move. “Phillip from Arkansas.”

Annie’s face lit up. “Yes!”

“You are a celebrity?” Marisol practically preened now, standing straighter and flipping her hair over one shoulder.

“No,” Annie said.

“Kind of,” Phillip added. “I was on a reality TV show last year. It was pretty popular in America. That’s why I’m on a break from school. Had to take some time off for filming.”

“
¿Verdad?
” Marisol asked. “What did you do? Are you a ninja?”

Felipe shook his head. His sister had been obsessed with ninjas since they were kids, and she was on a perpetual hunt for a ninja warrior to claim as her own.

“Sorry, Mari. He’s not a ninja,” Annie said. “They put a bunch of farmers together in a fancy barn to fight over this one girl. And the guys had to do all these different farm chores for the chance to be her boyfriend.”

“Well, not exactly,” Phillip said. “I mean, it was more complicated than that.”

“Did you win?” Marisol asked, her eyes alight.

“No, thank God. That chick was crazy.”

Annie stared at the musty, frayed backpack in Marisol’s hands. “This is it?” The bag was bigger than a standard school kid backpack, and a metal frame ran through its well-worn edges. A
real
backpack—the kind Annie expected to see on an unshaven man walking down the highway or on a new army recruit, fresh-faced and ready to be launched into enemy territory. Annie was neither of those things, and she needed more stuff than would fit in this contraption.

“
Sí
.” Marisol gave her a tiny smile. “I will help you.”

“No!” Annie’s voice rose, and she threw her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I like to pack my own stuff. So I know where everything is.”

Marisol sat on the bed and tucked her legs under her body. “Oh, I forgot about your anal problem.” She laughed, and a dimple appeared in her left cheek. Even though Annie had seen that pixie grin hundreds of times, this was the first time she saw Felipe’s smile reflected back at her.

“Mari,” Annie begged, “please,
please
do not tell anyone I have an anal problem.”

“But they will see, no? It is not so easy to hide these things when you are on a trip like this.”

With a steadying breath, Annie explained the difference between an “anal problem” and being a teensy bit anal retentive. Marisol stared at her for a beat, then collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“Is everything okay?” Melinda appeared in the doorway, a bemused smile on her lips.

Annie nodded. “Marisol is helping me pack.”

“Good.” Melinda glanced at Annie’s bags. “You’ll have to cut your things by at least half. But I’m sure the two of you will figure it out.”

By half?
Any lingering amusement shriveled inside her as Annie contemplated an entire month with less than half of her belongings. “Okay,” she told Melinda, her voice stilted and cracking.