“It’s Bach, Johann Sebastian Bach,” she explained, as if I should know that man. “He died a long time ago, but he left this beautiful music. I love putting it on when I want to concentrate.”
She leaned back against her chair to think about who knows what, maybe what David was doing near the ditch, or maybe something else.
I kept thinking about the time my mom bought me that pink dress for my birthday party. I was very excited. It’s weird, but I almost didn’t remember the party or the gifts or the friends. I remembered that afterward, when we were alone, she had hugged me and one of her earrings had gotten caught on a button of my dress. Not knowing this, I jumped with excitement, yanking the earring and tearing her ear. Blood splattered my face and neck, and my mom screamed at me, because of the pain, I’m sure. I was so scared, but after she had pressed a handkerchief, which quickly turned red, to her ear, she apologized and hugged me. My head was pressed against her belly and I could feel her heart pumping rivers of blood and I wanted to keep listening forever.
“It’s time,” said Marcela, interrupting my thoughts as she turned off the music. “See you next week?
I nodded and went out into the hallway. At the end, staring at the door I was walking through, stood David. As soon as he saw me, he smiled.
“Hey,” I said and walked toward him. He stopped smiling. When I was close enough, he dropped a berry in my hand. I felt the moist skin of the fruit and looked at it in wonder. When I looked up to ask him what I should do with it, he was gone. His back was all I saw, swallowed up by the stairwell.
I knew there was no point in chasing him, so I stepped out onto a balcony and stared at La Valvanera, that white chapel that sits on the hilltop of Cerro de la Cruz, while the wind tugged at me.
I looked down at the deep red berry, and without hesitation, I ate it.
HIEF,” THE BIG MAN GROWLED, pushing him. Hector fell back against bags of carrots, covering his face.
“I didn’t do anything,” he groaned.
“Liar. I saw you with that slut! After all those bags of food I gave you! Ungrateful little . . .”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, double whammy: no bread and no cheese, either. Now get out of here! You’re lucky I don’t call the police on you.”
The big man lifted him bodily and threw Hector out the door. After a brief flight, he slammed painfully into the pavement. When he could breathe again, Hector got up slowly and started walking away from the warehouse. He didn’t know where to go, so he simply wandered toward the river.
There were just a few houses nearby, their clay shingles a random cluster of red blobs. He crossed some fields and sat down in the ravine to watch the thick black water swirling with gray foam. It seemed more like tar than water, and its smell would have normally run anyone off who wanted to protect their noses and lungs from contamination. But Hector didn’t care about such things. He needed to forget his aching body and decide what to do next. The sluggish movement of the water helped him relax, and before long he stopped noticing the smell. He forgot his bruises too, and after a while, he was thinking clearly. Although he got paid next to nothing in the warehouse, they gave him food. He was able to take something home to his siblings by the time they got home from school. It wasn’t much, but it was enough so that they didn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. The most obvious next step was to get another job. That was the first thing. When his father returned, Hector could then prove he had been able to take care of his brothers and sisters. He thought about the young woman’s green eyes, her warm hands wrapping around his, and the hard line of her lips when she had tried to make him her accomplice. He imagined that if he had gone with her, maybe now he would be sitting beside a pool and not a polluted river, his body broken. He remembered the fresh, clean smell that came from her lips and had to rub his hand over his face to escape the memory. He had acted well. He had no regrets. There was a task to complete, and he was going to complete it no matter what.
Hector got up slowly, mastering every muscle of his battered legs, and headed back up the hill. The slope made the road seem very long. Each step reawakened a bruise. He finally reached the park in his neighborhood and eased down onto one of the benches. A new ache reminded him he had not eaten anything all day besides the aguapanela his sister Maria had made before going to school. The surge from that was long gone. Hector took deep breaths and tried to ignore the rumbling. He stared at the basketball court, the children’s games, the tree, and the exercise bars.
A whistle came, from one corner of the park, it seemed. Hector got up and looked that way. Another whistle. He turned to the opposite corner. The whistles kept echoing from all the streets that led to the park, until the guys appeared. He smiled when he saw them.
“What’re you doing here? What happened to you?” said the one who wore a leather jacket over his bare torso. The others jerked their heads in greeting.
“Work. They threw me out.”
“The fat dude?” asked the one in the jacket.
“Yeah.”
“With neighbors like that, huh? Am I right or am I right?” continued the guy with the jacket. “That’s why the dude only hires street rats from the other side of town.”
“And he beat the crap out of you?” asked the one with a turtleneck sweater that at some point had been white. Hector nodded, running his hand over the scraped arm he showed them. The boy snapped his fingers, impressed.
“But did you at least get back at him? Steal some good stuff?” asked the turtleneck guy.
“No. Didn’t get a chance.” Hector sighed and remembered the young woman, the throbbing vein in her neck, her green eyes burning.
“Poor, toothless piranha,” another said, cackling. The others joined in.
“I need work,” Hector whispered.
“Hey, why don’t you head over to Julio’s and see what he can do?” said the one in the leather jacket.
“Julio?”
“Yeah, dude’s pretty decent. Maybe he’ll help you out too . . .”
“THE PUNK WAS HUNGRY!” exclaimed the woman, taking the plate from the table. Hector was still clutching the spoon. He wiped his mouth with his dirty sleeve and looked at his benefactor. The heat from the soup had spread through his body and helped wash away the remnants of the beating. Julio, though just a few years older than Hector, was smiling at him as if welcoming a son returned from a long journey.
“Let’s see, punk.” He leaned forward on his elbows, staring at him. “What do you know how to do, then?”
“Anything. I’ll do whatever needs doing,” replied Hector, feeling a little dizzy from eating so fast.
“Right on, that’s the attitude. Not gonna let them step on us, right?”
Hector smiled in response.
“You’re one of those guys who takes care of his people!” Julio insisted. “Tough as nails. Dedicated to your brothers and sisters. Know what I mean?” He turned to the woman who had taken the plate away and was now opening two sodas behind the dark wooden counter. The woman nodded and walked over to them, bottles in hand. “Do you like Colombiana? It’s the only soda I drink. Champagne of colas.”
Hector nodded.
“But hey, let’s get down to business, right?
“Yeah. I need a job,” Hector reiterated.
“I’m going to help you.” Julio took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes until the atmosphere grew serious. “But right now? I got nothing. Don’t get me wrong, though: just wait a few days, and something will come up.”
Hector stared at him, desperate.
“For the time being,” Julio went on, holding his eyes, “here’s a gift.”
He pulled out a wad of fifty-thousand-peso bills. Peeling two off, he handed them to Hector.
“So you can see that I’ve got your back, yeah?”
Hector looked down at the bills, not daring to touch them.
“It’s a lot of money,” he said cautiously. It was more than most people made i
n a week.
“That’s nothing. We’re gonna touch the sky with our hands.” Smiling, Julio set the money down in front of Hector. Then he frowned. “You can pay me back later if you want, but right now, accept it. Relax. Take food home. Come on, do it.”
Hector stood, holding on to the chair to keep from falling. The woman behind the counter was grinning at him.
“Cool, kid. Get moving,” said Julio, and he took out his cell phone, which had started to ring.
VERY TIME HE SHOT ME I DIED, even if we were far apart. He’d look at me, point, and shoot, making a sound I couldn’t hear, though the instant I saw his lips moving, I’d fall dead no matter where we were. But that day, I was in the garden making sure there weren’t any slugs or other creepy crawlers on the bushes. I looked up to wipe the sweat from my forehead and saw him on the other side. I stared at him. Surely he noticed, because as if feeling the warmth of my gaze, he whirled around. I expected him to shoot me, so I was already figuring out the best way to fall dead without smashing the lettuces that were barely emerging from the soil. But instead, he started walking toward me. My heart started beating wildly, and I felt like I was running out of breath. I had to stand up to suck in some air, and I watched him come. Only at that moment did I realize that he was short, that his body was much smaller than mine. When he reached my side, he looked at me for a moment and then handed me another berry he had in his hand. This time, the fruit was green and warm. I took it, but didn’t want to eat it.
“Green fruits give me a stomachache,” I said, unsure of what else to do.
He smiled, and the whole world lit up with that smile.
“But come on, I discovered something you’ll like.” I took him by the hand and led him to the ditch.
I had planned this for many nights. I’d lie down to sleep, close my eyes, and think about how to make friends with him. I had decided that it was best to show him that I also liked the stuff you could find in the ditch.
We didn’t say anything to each other along the way. I just needed him to come with me to the place I’d been preparing, I squeezed his hand tight so he wouldn’t escape. Soon I could feel him starting to sweat. When we reached the edge of the ditch, I didn’t find what I expected. There were supposed to be some aquatic flowers—a species of lotus, the gardener had told me, that would surely thrive in that water. After breakfast that morning they’d been there, but now that I needed them, they didn’t appear. Nervous and not letting go of his hand, I dragged David a few more steps, checking the edge of the water that ran slowly and calmly. They were not there.
I turned back without giving his hand a chance to break free, and then I found them. With relief I checked that all my preparations had not been in vain. We crouched down, and I pointed at the yellow flowers.
“They’re like lily pads. In the Amazon there are some so big you can sit on them without sinking.”
He looked me in the eye and then shot me, smiling. Of course, playing along, I fell on my back, dropping his hand, looking up at the gray clouds that had begun to cover the sun.
“They’re pretty,” he said finally.
“I wanted to show them to you. They’re free-floating flowers.” I sat up and tried to remember everything I had prepared to interest him in me. “They don’t stick to anything. They stick their roots in the water and the water can take them anywhere.”
He had crouched down, bringing his nose close to the edge to examine them.
“It seems that these flowers have more—” His hand shot out into the water. The slapping splash made me fall backward.
“What is it?” I asked, getting up and brushing the dirt off my butt.
He opened his hand and showed me a tadpole squirming in his palm. Leaning forward, I saw that under the green leaves of the yellow lotuses there was a pretty big school of tadpoles. I figured they liked the shade the leaves made underwater. They began to scuttle out of sight, so I also reached out to grab one. Incredibly, when I pulled my hand out of the water, a small slimy creature was wriggling between my fingers. I moved it to the palm of my hand and showed it to my friend, who frowned. There was something he didn’t like.
“Should we leave it in the water?” I asked. He nodded.
I did as we’d agreed with mine and waited for him to do the same, so we could take the next step in our eventual friendship. But instead he tossed the tadpole into his mouth, swallowed it in a single gulp, and ran off toward the building, leaving me alone. I thought about that slimy thing sliding down my throat.
That day I wasn’t able to learn anything else about him.
I ended up sick, vomiting up everything I’d eaten the last few days.
DON’T KNOW, don’t know, don’t know, don’t know,” Manuela repeated, looking down at the floor. Maria and Hector watched her, waiting for a confession.
“I won’t give you back your blankie,” Maria threatened, Manuela’s raggedy blanket in her hand.
Manuela reached up and jumped, trying to grab it, but her forehead slapped against Maria’s hand, which glued her firmly to the ground.
“Give it to me!” the little one whined.
“Not until you tell me what happened to Robert!” said Maria.
Hector put his hands on his hips and glared at Manuela as if he could pull things out of her head with his eyes.
“He said he was leaving,” she confessed, jumping again to try to grab her blanket.
“And?” Maria prompted, holding the blanket higher.
“That he was going to live on the streets because you guys are mean,” Manuela sobbed, slumping to the floor. Next to her rose a little mountain of eucalyptus seeds she had been playing with.
“And David?”
“He went with Doña Yeni, to help her with the shopping,” Manuela blurted through tears, knocking over the eucalyptus seeds in frustration.
“Stop carrying this thing around, Manuela. You’re too big for baby stuff,” said Maria, throwing the blanket over her head. Manuela seized it like a prize and immediately put it in her mouth.
“Quit sucking on it!” Maria demanded, grabbing a corner and yanking it from her lips.
“Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” screamed Manuela, threatening to throw the seeds at her. “You’re not my bosses. That’s why Robert left! You’re meanies!”
Maria and Hector looked at each other, at a loss.
“Shh, shhh,” said Hector, hugging the little girl and staring again at Maria. “Don’t be like that. It’s just that we have to stick together.”
“Why?” sobbed Manuela, leaning against her brother’s shoulder.
“Because we’re a family.”
Maria turned her back on them and leaned her elbows on the windowsill, looking out at the courtyard. She saw David entering, his face hidden by the huge grocery bag he carried on his shoulder. He stumbled along under the weight. Doña Yeni, behind him, dragged some sacks that cleared a path behind her through the scattered leaves and seeds.
“Why hasn’t Doña Yeni paid rent?” asked Maria.
Hector let go of his little sister, who kept squeezing herself tightly against him anyway, and sighed.
“Because Robert told her to give us food instead of rent.”
“And she washes our clothes,” Manuela added.
Maria clenched her teeth and left the room. Hector got up and ran after her, stopping her in the courtyard.
“Where are you going?”
“To look for Robert, where else?”
“I’ll go with you,” said Hector, and they headed out together.
Manuela, standing in the doorway of their room, saw them leave and then watched David’s awkward attempts to drag the bag up the stairs.
“I’ve got it,” Doña Yeni grunted, pushing him aside and picking up the bag. “Thanks. Oh, and take this for the girl.”
She handed him two bananas. David stood there several moments, trying to catch his breath, until Manuela walked over, dragging her blanket. She pulled his pant le
g out of his boot and reached out her hand to receive her share.
AFTER SEVERAL HOURS, they sat down on one of the park benches. They did not notice the intense orange that seemed to set fire to the few clouds above and to draw from the walls and abandoned quarries another halo that transformed that red and yellow world—all brick and sand, motley houses perched on mined-out hills without a hint of green—into a slick and vibrant surface poised to become pure color, to abandon the shapes that defined it and dissolve completely into a sea of red, with no borders the eye could discern. But, on the other hand, the two knew that, after the intense afternoon sun, the clear sky was sign of a frigid night to come. They were silent for a moment until the cold made Maria’s thin body shiver.
“What do we do now?” she asked, hugging herself to keep warm.
“I don’t know,” said Hector.
“We can’t let him sleep on the street. He’s only ten years old.”
“But we’ve already looked everywhere,” Hector groaned. “He probably left the neighborhood.”
They sat there in silence for another moment until Maria couldn’t stand the cold anymore and decided to get up.
“Let’s go home. He might be back already.”
But they didn’t find Robert at home, either. Instead, Manuela and David were asleep, hugging each other in bed. Hector watched as Maria put her hair up and, moving the way their mother had, started preparing dinner.
“Maria,” Hector said very softly, so the younger children wouldn’t wake up.
“Yes?” Maria answered, unconcerned about the noise she was making with the pots and pans.
“I think we’re doing okay . . . don’t you?”
Maria stopped chopping tomatoes. She rubbed her eyes with the back of the hand that held the knife, as if drying an invisible tear. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“If Julio gets me the job . . .” Hector said and saw how Manuela’s huge eyes opened up under her pink blanket, locked on him, glowing with hope. Walking over, he stroked the little one’s tangled hair and sighed.
The Immortal Boy Page 3
