Although it was the hottest part of the day, the long jogging path winding through the UACH's campus was crowded. Young and old, singles and small parties, strollers and joggers, and occasional dog walkers filled the path. Some of them were showing signs of being spent, like Ervey's family, provided fresh vigor and animation to the scene.
"Stand up, güey. I promise you that you are going to like it," Ervey told his little son.
The baby showed no signs of being interested in standing up, much less walking. He simply slunk down every time his father put his feet on the ground. Ervey tried it many times without making any progress, but he would not give up. His son remained patient, but he never stiffened his legs. Fabiola walked silently ahead of the pair without showing much interest in their exercise.
"Andale, güey, just try it a little bit. Nothing's going to happen because I have you by the arms," Ervey pleaded to no avail.
"Here's where it happened," Ervey heard Fabiola say.
"What?" said Ervey, not looking up from his folly.
"You didn't hear about it?" said Fabiola, "it happened just last week."
She pointed with her chin to a stretch in the foot path that merged with the sidewalk bordering Avenida Tecnológico. A row of brightly painted beverage and taco stands were doing a brisk business. Then end closest to them showed signs of recent ground work-- clean swept sidewalk and newly planted bushes where there had once been a structure.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ervey, finally looking up.
"Where they shot up some people at the stand," said Fabiola, "somebody drove up to the curb and just strafed the stand indiscriminately. Many dead and wounded."
"Oh, yeah," said Ervey, picking up the baby to catch up with his wife, "but look now. Everybody just moved over to the other stands."
"It's not known if they were shooting at the stand owner because he stopped making his extortion payments or patrons that were on a hit list," said Fabiola, "you hear all sorts of stories."
Ervey looked over at the spot, but he didn't say anything. He shifted his son higher up in his arms.
"Let's go the other way," said Fabiola, "the medical school is that direction anyway."
"But it's Sunday. There won't be anybody around anyway," said Ervey, "not that I'm eager to see anybody."
"Don't you want to stay in touch?" asked Fabiola, "at least stay in the loop so I wont' be too hard rejoin them when you go back?"
"I stay in touch enough," said Ervey, "they tell me what the professors are doing, how the grading is going, and who's still in and who's not cutting it. And I tell them I'm coming back in the fall."
"And what do you think?" asked Fabiola, "we're still going with the plan?"
"You still with it?" asked Ervey, "you're the one going back to work tending other people's babies."
"Yeah, whatever," said Fabiola, "I'm not backing down. We'll just put our heads down for a few years until you get out of school, like holding your breath underwater until you get to the other side of the swimming pool."
"That's my old lady," said Ervey, putting his arm around her neck, "and when I'm a rich doctor, I'll buy you a Gucci and a Mercedes."
"And a house in the San Francisco Country Club and a weekend house in the mountains," said Fabiola, giggling.
"Of course," said Ervey, "that goes without saying."
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