Chapter 23: Gabe — Summary and Analysis
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Summary
The chapter opens with Gabe stepping outside after finishing his coffee, the first quiet moment since Hurricane María passed. He looks up at a “bruised sky” and immediately connects the physical damage to his own mental state—bruised from the attack he and his friends survived the night before, and sore from the tension and fear that had packed the preceding hours. The storm has stripped the island of its usual lushness; trees stand naked, and the street in front of his house has turned into a small lake because of faulty drainage.
Gabe’s thoughts drift to his mother. He pictures her alone in the house during the hurricane, with only the ghost of his father for company. He imagines her watching the news before the power went out, hearing warnings about shelters and the ocean, then being plunged into absolute darkness. He wonders if his father’s ghost offered her any comfort, and immediately hates himself for being with Bimbo instead of with her. The guilt is sharp and persistent.
He remembers the hurried preparation before the storm: he and his mother nailed planks over the windows using wood they’d saved from a neighbor’s trash two or three years earlier. Some planks were rotted, and they decided the small kitchen windows would have to go unprotected. He wonders how many times his mother looked out that window, thinking about him and praying.
Walking around the block to silence his thoughts, Gabe observes the aftermath. The silence is almost worse than the storm itself—no neighbors yelling, no animals making noise, as if fear has driven everything into hiding. He sees a yellow house where an old man who never talks to anyone lives, and a branch is sticking through a window. He thinks about the thousands of people across the island who live in small wooden houses built without permits; Category 5 hurricanes pummel cement and mess up paint, but they obliterate wooden homes. He notes that whatever does the hurting always hurts the poorest folks the most. This leads him to worry about Xavier and his parents, whose house has a crappy roof that leaks every time it rains.
He stays outside under the rain because he craves anything other than the darkness of the house and the silent screams of his father’s ghost and his own guilt. He wants to cry out, to yell, to wake up the world, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The aftermath of a hurricane drives silence into you, he reflects, as if you’re inside a punished chapel where uttering a single word would be an insult.
He turns back and approaches his house. The veve is still on the door, with tiny coffins on its sides like strange eyes looking at him. He feels they know what he did the night before, and maybe they’re trying to tell him he’s next. Weirdly, the gun in his closet feels like a chunk of hope. He walks inside and closes the door.
Inside, he checks his phone: 61 percent battery, but no signal. He knows the power will be out for a long time, so he doesn’t think about when it will come back. He wants to hear Natalia’s voice, to hear her tell him she’s okay. If the signal doesn’t come back soon, he’ll try to drive to her place.
In the kitchen, the faucet coughs and makes a sound like someone dying of thirst, but nothing comes out. He tells himself it’s okay. They are alive. They still have a roof over their heads. They’ve done this before, and they will do it again. They are boricuas de pura cepa, and that means they’ll do whatever it takes.
Key Events
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Gabe steps outside after the hurricane and observes the damaged neighborhood: flooded streets, bare trees, and a branch through a window of a yellow house.
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He reflects on his mother being alone during the storm with his father’s ghost, and feels guilt for being with Bimbo instead of her.
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He remembers nailing planks over windows, but some were rotted, leaving the kitchen windows unprotected.
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He worries about Xavier’s family’s leaky roof and the vulnerability of wooden houses in poor communities.
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He notices the profound silence of the aftermath, which he compares to a punished chapel.
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He returns home and sees the veve and coffins on the door, which he interprets as knowing his actions from the night before.
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He checks his phone: 61% battery, no signal. He wants to hear Natalia’s voice.
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The faucet produces no water. He reassures himself that they are alive, have a roof, and will endure as boricuas.
Character Development
Gabe is the sole point of view in this chapter, and his internal landscape is as damaged as the physical world. The guilt he feels about his mother is a new layer of emotional weight; he’s not just dealing with the aftermath of a hurricane, but also with the moral consequences of his choices. His decision to be with Bimbo instead of his mother reveals a conflict between loyalty to his friends and responsibility to family. The fact that he hates himself for it shows a growing self-awareness, but also a tendency to punish himself.
His observation about poverty—that the poorest are always hurt the most—shows a social consciousness that goes beyond his own situation. He thinks of Xavier’s family, not just himself, which indicates empathy and a sense of communal identity. The veve and coffins on the door unsettle him, but he doesn’t flee; instead, he finds a strange comfort in the gun in his closet, calling it “a chunk of hope.” This suggests that violence or protection has become a coping mechanism, and that the supernatural elements of the story are intertwined with his psychological state.
His final affirmation—that they are boricuas de pura cepa and will do whatever it takes—shows resilience, but it’s a resilience born of necessity, not optimism. He’s not hopeful; he’s determined. The chapter ends with a quiet acceptance of hardship, but also a refusal to give in.
Themes, Symbols, or Motifs
Silence as a character: The aftermath silence is described as “wounded” and “almost worse” than the storm. Gabe compares it to being inside a punished chapel, where speaking would be an insult. This silence is both external (the absence of animals and neighbors) and internal (his inability to cry out). It represents the psychological shock of surviving trauma, and the way grief and guilt can mute a person.
The veve and coffins: The veve, a Vodou symbol, remains on the door, and the tiny coffins are described as “strange eyes” that seem to know what Gabe did. This motif ties the supernatural to his guilt—the symbols are not just decorations but active witnesses. The coffins also foreshadow death, and Gabe wonders if they’re telling him he’s next. This reinforces the idea that the past actions (the attack the night before) have consequences that are both real and metaphysical.
Poverty and vulnerability: Gabe’s reflection on wooden houses versus cement ones highlights how class determines survival in a disaster. The leaky roof of Xavier’s house and the rotted planks on his own windows are concrete examples of how poverty exacerbates risk. The line “whatever it is that’s doing the hurting, it always hurts the poorest folks the most” is a direct social commentary that runs through the chapter.
The ghost of his father: The ghost is a recurring presence, but here it’s not just a haunting—it’s a source of potential comfort for his mother, and a source of guilt for Gabe. The ghost represents unresolved grief and the weight of family history. Gabe wonders if the ghost offered his mother comfort, which suggests he’s seeking some kind of absolution for his own absence.
Resilience as identity: The phrase “boricuas de pura cepa” (pure-blooded Puerto Ricans) is used as a mantra of endurance. It’s a cultural identity that implies strength through repeated hardship. The chapter ends with this affirmation, but it’s not triumphant; it’s a grim determination to survive.
Why This Chapter Matters
Chapter 23 serves as a crucial pause in the narrative, shifting from the immediate action of the storm and the attack to the quiet, devastating aftermath. It deepens Gabe’s characterization by exposing his guilt, his empathy for others, and his fragile mental state. The chapter also establishes the physical and social landscape of post-María Puerto Rico, which is essential for understanding the characters’ motivations and the broader themes of poverty and resilience.
The supernatural elements—the veve, the coffins, the ghost—are woven into Gabe’s psychological reality, suggesting that the external world and internal trauma are inseparable. The gun as “a chunk of hope” is a troubling but revealing detail, showing that Gabe’s sense of safety is tied to violence, which may foreshadow future conflicts.
This chapter also sets up practical concerns: no water, no signal, no power. These basic needs will drive Gabe’s next actions, including his desire to reach Natalia. The chapter ends with a sense of waiting, but also with a promise of movement—he’ll drive to her if the signal doesn’t return. This creates narrative tension and propels the reader into the next chapter.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does Gabe’s guilt about his mother shape his perception of the aftermath?
Gabe’s guilt is the lens through which he views everything. He pictures his mother alone with his father’s ghost, and he hates himself for being with Bimbo instead of her. This guilt makes the silence of the aftermath feel even more oppressive, as if the world is judging him. He stays outside under the rain because he craves anything other than the darkness of the house and the “silent screams” of his father’s ghost and his guilt. His inability to cry out is tied to this internal punishment—he feels he doesn’t deserve to express his own pain because he failed his mother.
2. What does the veve and the coffins on the door symbolize in this chapter?
The veve and coffins are supernatural markers that seem to have agency. Gabe describes them as “strange eyes” that know what he did the night before, and he wonders if they’re telling him he’s next. They symbolize the inescapable consequences of his actions, both moral and possibly supernatural. The coffins foreshadow death, and the veve connects to the Vodou elements of the story. They also represent the blending of the mundane and the mystical—the door is a physical barrier, but the symbols make it a threshold to something darker.
3. How does the chapter address the theme of poverty and disaster?
Gabe explicitly notes that hurricanes pummel cement but obliterate wooden homes, and that “whatever it is that’s doing the hurting, it always hurts the poorest folks the most.” He thinks of Xavier’s family’s leaky roof and the rotted planks on his own windows. The chapter shows that disaster is not equal; those with fewer resources suffer more. This theme is not just background—it’s central to Gabe’s empathy and his understanding of his own precarious situation. The final affirmation of being boricuas de pura cepa is a form of resistance against this systemic inequality, but it’s also a recognition that they must endure because they have no other choice.