Winter 1992 • Vol. XIV No. 1 FictionJanuary 1, 1992 |

What We Don’t Know about the Climb to Heaven

Ariel Zurita was the second illegal who paid Daisy to marry him so he could get his green card and, like the first, was also her boarder. In the five months he lived in her small apartment, their paths crossed only on Saturday mornings. From the kitchen area, separated from the living room by a dining table, she wished him a good morning as, in a bathrobe, he came out of his room to take a shower or returned, fragrant with after-shave. She would prepare breakfast. After eating hers, she knocked on his door. Unlike his predecessor, Zurita never opened it in his underwear. She let him eat alone, reading his newspaper, as she imagined he preferred. Except for those weekly brushes, each kept a private life. She didn't know what he did with his days, or why he came in late every night or was gone for the weekend to be back on Monday morning, and at first thought she didn't care. Daisy had met him that spring, a year after she was rid of Jorge, a Mexican who entered her life giving ev

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