Elsie Edwidge Danticat (bio) Fleur was with her live-in "pulmonary fibrosis" when her ex-husband called to inform her that his girlfriend, Elsie, had been kidnapped in Port-au-Prince. Fleur had just fed Tiggs, the fibrosis patient, when her cell phone rang, spoon after spoon of heavily creamed spinach, which was meant to be digested easily while packing on calories. Tiggs was lying back in bed, his head carefully propped on two firm pillows, his pale, gaunt face angled toward the bedroom skylight, which allowed him a slanted view of a blooming ailanthus. He would often attempt to guess the weather, based on the sway of the ailanthus' large, pointy leaves, advising a willowy Fleur to dress appropriately to face what he grandly and enviously referred to as "l'extérieur." Fleur removed the empty plate from Tiggs's nightstand and wiped a lingering string of spinach from his chin. Shuffling both hands, he signaled to her not to leave the room, while motioning for her to carry on with her phone conversation. Quickly turning her attention from Tiggs to the phone, Fleur pressed it close to her lips and asked, "When?" "This morning." Sounding hoarse and exhausted, Guillaume, the ex-husband, jumbled his words. His singsong tone, which Fleur attributed to his actually being a singer, was gone, replaced by a nearly inaudible whisper. "She was leaving a cousin's house," he continued. "Two men grabbed her, pushed her into a car and drove off." Fleur could imagine Guillaume sitting, or standing, with the phone trapped between his neck and shoulders, while he used his hands to pick at his fingernails. It was an obsession of his, clean nails. Dirty fingers drive him crazy, she'd reasoned, because like her, he was only one generation removed from Haiti's northern peasantry and barely missed having them all his life. "You didn't go with her?" Fleur asked. "You're right," he answered, loudly drawing an endless breath through what Fleur knew were clenched teeth. "I should have been there." Tiggs's eyes wandered down from the ceiling to Fleur's. He had been pretending not to hear but was now looking directly at her. Restlessly shifting his weight from one side of the bed to the other, he paused to catch his breath. He wanted her off the phone. Tiggs had turned seventy that day and before his lunch had requested a bouquet of white roses and a bottle of champagne from his wife. When he'd suggested that these modest offerings might be her last to him, Mrs. Tiggs had broken down and cried, but had rushed out to procure them. Suddenly she was back. [End Page 22] "Fleur, I need you to hang up," she said as she laid out two crystal flutes along with the flowers and champagne on a folding table by the bed. "Call me back," Fleur told Guillaume. After she hung up, Fleur sat at the dying man's feet, watching the ailanthus' shadows swaying over his entire body. She was afraid of shadows. Had been most of her life. As a girl, she was told that if she chased them, they'd come back to haunt her. And sure enough, once the suggestion was planted, they did. That afternoon, Guillaume called back to tell Fleur that Elsie's cousin, the one she'd been visiting when she was abducted, had heard from her captors. The cousin asked to speak to Elsie but her kidnappers refused to put her on the phone. Thinking that Fleur might have heard Elsie speak about him—which Fleur had not—Guillaume took great pains to explain who the cousin was. "He's a very distant cousin," he said. "He's called Toyo." Apparently because he ran a Toyota dealership with a sign from which the last two letters were missing and which he's never bothered to fix. He was also called Cow's Head or Tèt Bèf, because the Toyota emblem resembled cows' horns, but his real name was Dimitri Alphonse. "They want fifty thousand from Toyo," Guillaume spoke in such a rapid nasal voice that Fleur had to ask him to...