Fredo in Mexico.

Abuela greeted him with open arms. Standing in the doorway of her casa, she hugged him close to her bosom. Fredo remembered her from all those years ago. His Madre (mother) took him away when he was a toddler. Under the stealth of night, they crossed the American border at El Paso.

Madre claimed Popi died a hero, but they had to flee for their lives. The Mexican drug cartel shot him. He knew too much and talked too much. Abuela—his grandmother—helped them escape. Madre took her chances in America. She wanted Fredo to grow up strong and safe.

Madre found work in a laundromat. Pressing clothing and doing alterations paid their rent and kept them fed. Fredo entered kindergarten with other children his age. He felt different. His spattering of English helped him. Willing to learn, he concentrated on fitting in.

Elsa became his first friend. Adoring her, Fredo stuck close to her side. They grew up together and made plans for their future. Then, he knew he could not succeed with her. His swarthy skin contrasted dramatically with her pale complexion and the freckles that danced across her cheeks.

After their college graduation, Fredo scrawled his departure note and fled to Mexico. Abuela took him in and chided him for leaving such a beautiful girl. But, she gave him a home and let him sort himself out. Abuela did not interfere.

Like a specter, Fredo faded into Mexico. He wished to be alone. Desperately, he longed for Elsa. Alone, deep in the night, he considered returning to her. Then, he convinced himself she was better off without him. In time, she would find someone new, someone who fit her personality and her life.

Fredo kept his love for her alive in his heart, but he determined to stay away.