Page 34 of Catching Camila

Her mother whirled and locked her eyes on Camila. She tottered forward on oversized high heels that clomped on the pavement. Her face spread into a delirious smile.

“Camila, I went shopping. I bought you the prettiest dress. It’s blue with a sash.” Mama shook the bags toward Camila. “Try it on.”

Camila stepped out, hoping against hope that no one was close enough to hear. She peered into the bags. Clothes, shoes, and purses bulged from at least six overflowing bags. Camila gripped the bag with white knuckles. “Where did you get the money for all this?”

Mama ignored the question, dropping half her bags and pulling out a blue dress. She pressed it to Camila’s chest. “You look beautiful.”

Camila tugged the dress down and stuffed it in the bag. “Where are the receipts? How much did you spend?”

Mama tugged at Camila's shirt. “Try it on. Try it on. I want to see.”

Camila batted at Mama's hands and dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “You stole them again, didn’t you? That’s why there’s no receipt. Why they’re not in the regular bags. Jesus.” She leaned against the wall, the bricks baking into her back.

Mama’s face fell. She took a clomping step forward, pouting. “I just wanted you to have something nice.”

Camila nodded, feeling the anger deflate like a punctured balloon. Mama was sick. This wasn’t her fault.

“I’d tell you to take the stuff back, but then they’d probably press charges.” Camila gripped Mama’s arm and looked deep into her eyes. “Just please, please, please, stay out of the stores.”

She nodded. “You’re gonna love the blue dress.”

Camila threw her hands up. “Mama!”

“Okay, okay,” she waved her arms in defense. “I see you at home.”

Camila nodded, blowing hair out of her eyes. The sweat-drenched strand didn’t budge. She watched her mother clomp down the street, feeling wrung out. As she turned and walked back into the ice cream shop, a middle-aged woman on a bench was watching her very carefully.

Was she a cop? And how much had she heard?

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