Panama by Shelby Hiatt Page A

you know these people?"
    "Not exactly..."
    "Then go on home. You shouldn't be here at all." I hesitate and this burly fellow gives me a hard look. "Don't wander around this area."
    "All right." I can't think of anything else to say and I go down the steps.
    The policeman watches and I start along the track toward home, still carrying books meant for Federico. He keeps watching so I can't turn back.
    All I wanted was to talk to Federico, and now what I've seen has changed everything. Something has happened to him, and I wonder if it changed us. I don't know who the dead man is, but he has to be important to Federico. They allowed him to take him in the cabin before going to the morgue. I don't know what I'll say about it or if I should say anything or even admit I was there. I've never seen a man sob, or a dead man, or mutilation.
    I walk home, wipe my dripping face.
Forty-Two
    Mother knows Harry's in Gatun for a few more days, so I have no excuse for getting back to the cabin, but I'm on fire. I'm emboldened by the strange near encounter at Federico's cabin.
    The next evening when she's not in the room, I put on Father's hat, a pair of trousers, and walk out the back door, down the steps to the tracks, and resolve to think of an excuse later ... sketching ... silhouettes for art class ... constellations for science ... whatever...
    I'm bristling with excitement. I like it but it's risky.
    I have to remember that Federico doesn't know what I saw. Everything between us is the same as far as he knows. Popping up at his cabin like I'm going to do is different, and given what I've seen, I'd say meeting him at a regular place, like the Tivoli, would be much better, but I can't make myself wait.
    Cut loose on my own, I walk fast along the tracks, books for Federico under my arm, no parental constraints, making my own rules.
    Approaching Federico's cabin I stop and reconsider. He doesn't expect me. Our meetings before this have always been planned and strictly business, exchanging one or two books he's read for new ones he wants. This time it will be different because it's unplanned, and that's where it gets tricky, because he has to be still grieving.
    But I don't even consider going back.
    My plan is to act as though I know nothing and show up with books.
Forty-Three
    Halfway up the steps I can see in: Federico sitting at the table reading, the roommate on his bunk. The place is spotless. You'd never know this was a death scene—no blood, not even stains.
How did he do that?
And no disarray.
    I climb the last steps to the door and tap. Both of them look up. The roommate squints at me.
    "Could I see Federico?" I say, an American girl in a man's clothes, almost dark. "I'm sorry to bother you..."
    "No, no. Come in." Federico has recognized me.
    The roommate pushes open the door and Federico pulls out a chair.
    I put the books on the table. He's calm with a slightly puzzled look, and I'm rattled far more than I expected. This is hard, showing up like this with no warning.
    "Two more," I say, meaning the books. "I came by yesterday but I saw ... you know..."
    I've blurted it out. I didn't mean to do that.
    "Ah," he says, calm, unaffected.
    "Actually, I need to get the poetry from you," I say, which is true. I need the book for a school assignment.
    My face feels like it's on fire. This is a huge mistake—everything is wrong and inappropriate. Yesterday, a dead man was lying a foot from where I'm standing, and now I'm talking about "Whitman, for school ... I have to do a report..." Can he see I'm shaking?
    In a normal voice he says, "Of course," and bends down and starts going through books stacked on the floor. "That's Augusto," he says, meaning the roommate. "She's my source for books," he says to him in Spanish.
    Augusto stands and shakes my hand. His face is intelligent, and he's got the stocky shape Father talks about that's common with Spanish workers—nothing like Federico's lean build.
    "My pleasure," I say in my best