Mommy left. The table was filled with papers and newspapers. Daddy spoke on the telephone and played with his hair between his fingers. Everything around the telephone was covered with hairs. Daddy sent Julia away, the woman who had always taken care of me, so they would not find out in the village that his woman had left him. He told me once that she had left with an Indian. The image that stayed with me was of an Apache Indian sitting on a throne, in an enormous space with a shiny marble floor. Like an airport.