The Brick People

by Alejandro Morales

  Why didn’t she tell me? ... Octavio entered the kitchen where his father ate. Milagros turned a tortilla over on the stove and waited.

  “Where is Nana?” Octavio asked with a slight sense of fear. Only for an instant did the thought of her walking out on him pass through his mind.

  “At her house, Octavio.” Milagros pronounced the sentence with a secret feeling of triumph and pride for Nana. She pointed next door.

  “Where Federico lived!” Damian shouted, bothered by Octavio standing stupefied at what Nana had done. “Go!” he waved and continued eating.

  Milagros placed a tortilla at the side of Damian’s plate. She looked up to see her oldest son disappear.

  Nana had heard Damian’s angered voice and knew that he had spoken to Octavio, who walked aggressively to the door. She saw him approach. She noticed how the tiny squares of the screen door blanketed his entire body. The baby was playing quietly in one of the bedrooms while Nana waited, sitting in the kitchen in the chair which Milagros had given her that morning. It did not matter how angry he would become; she was ready and confident. From where she sat she saw the little squares swing away and her husband appear. Octavio rushed into the living room, but as he entered, the lack of furniture and the cleanliness that reigned in that house established by Nana, the woman he loved, diminished his irritation.

  “Why did you do this?” Octavio insisted.

  “Because you did nothing and I did not want to be forgotten in that little room. You wanted to have me there like a bird in a cage. Whether you like it or not, now we have our house,” Nana said calmly.

  “Sure, and I almost got into a fight with Jacobo Ramos because he took the rent out of my salary. ‘Who authorized this?’ I asked him. And he told me to talk to my wife. If it hadn’t been for Gonzalo, I would have broken Jacobo’s mouth. You must tell me what you are going to do. If you don’t, you make me look like a fool and put me in danger.” Octavio moved to the stove, closer to Nana.

  “If I had asked you for the money to rent this house you would have said no. Jacobo was going to rent it to someone else. I had no other choice, Octavio. I was not about to lose this house,” Nana said, sensing that she had won. “Besides, we are going to need more rooms for the new baby.” She reached out to touch his hand.

  “Nana, we don’t have any food here. I’ll go right away,” Octavio said, conceding to Nana’s logic.

  “I’ll get coffee ready. When you return, we will have dinner, thanks to your mother.” Nana walked Octavio to the door.

  “Make the coffee strong. I’ll need it for tonight,” he said as he left for the general store.

  When Octavio returned with two large bags of groceries, Milagros had dinner warm on the stove and was about to finish a cup of tea with Nana. He placed the bags by the cupboards and sat on one of the two chairs Milagros had brought with a small table.

  “Thanks, Mama. I spoke with Jacobo and he explained everything. Tomorrow he will send some furniture,” Octavio said and began to eat, feeling comfortable with his mother and Nana and the new house she had acquired.

  At six o’clock, Milagros took her leave. Octavio had a second cup of strong coffee at six-fifteen. He washed, dressed and sat on the side of the bed. Nana, in a nightgown, played with Micaela and studied Octavio’s nervousness. She knew that he would leave shortly to gamble in the rooms provided by Gonzalo. She hated Octavio’s leaving her alone, sometimes for days and nights. How she worried about him. But she could never stop him from joyfully fondling those cards that he carried in his coat pocket. Under his left lapel, next to his heart, he did not carry a photograph of his beautiful wife, but a pearl handle thirty-eight. The thought that her husband would ever have to use that weapon frightened Nana more than anything else.

  Voices rushed to her as she lay in bed watching him push away after kissing her and his daughter. The blurred image of a notorious gringo gambler dragging his shattered knees through gravel ran in her mind. Above, his pearl handle gun smoked. Nana could not identify the man who held the gun. From out of the dark night someone called “Octavio!” and the fearful image vanished. Octavio faced away from the chest of drawers where he had left money. Nana put on a robe and took the baby from him.

  “Be careful.” Her voice became a whisper.

  Octavio smiled and in moments was out of the house, sitting in the front seat of Guadalupe Sandoval’s car. What lingered for a few seconds after Octavio left Nana was the sound of the machine that transported him through the Los Angeles night.

  From far above, the gamblers were seen sailing through the waves of life moving upward to Los Angeles’ most mysterious place. People entered there only to improve on their talents, gifts and powers. The enclave was situated high above Los Angeles in Chavez Ravine. From the Los Angeles basin, Barrio Margarito always glowed with enchantment. Polylustrous, it existed ready to offer its pleasures. Sentinels watched the approaching people, the advancing automobiles. Some would be allowed to pass; others were sent back to their point of origin.

  As Guadalupe and Ignacio Sandoval, Maximiliano and Octavio Revueltas slowly drove in, several men forced them to stop. Dressed in Arabic robes, the men pointed down the road. They had not asked questions. They merely peered into the car and seemed to recognize the visitors and allowed them through. The three guards moved away laughing. Now Octavio observed that under the robes they held rifles and other weapons. These men whose language was exotic and unrecognizable were the preamble to the marvelous world of Barrio Margarito.

  Although known as a Mexican barrio, an international, interracial and intercultural flavor permeated life in Barrio Margarito. The barrio was a boiling pot of races, each respecting others and living in dignity. There were Mexicans, Blacks, Arabs, Jews, Indians, Asians, native Americans, and gypsies who lived in this magic place above Los Angeles. The people’s native dress added to the cosmopolitan atmosphere. And it was correct to assume that people from around the world came to this town—people with special talents, gifts or powers. Barrio Margarito was the Andorra of Southern California, receiving every kind of natural and synthetic product: alcohol, exotic narcotics, gold, silver, jewels, books, male and female prostitutes of all ages as well as the many gods of the cosmos. The architecture was a mixture of Mexican, Oriental and Arabic buildings and numerous different-colored tents. Even at night when Octavio entered, the brilliant many-hued colors of the town struck his eyes.

  Octavio alighted from the car and found himself before a crowd standing in a walkway below a mosque-like building. Women dressed in black or brilliant green beautifully patterned multicolored silks passed by him. Some scantily dressed women moved about as naturally as the others. Men, women and children walked by quickly, carrying objects valuable to them. Barrio Margarito was a circus which never failed to amaze, never stopped to rest.

  The four men were now out of the car, each fascinated by what he saw in different directions. Music expressing the multicultural ambiance came to them and left. Delicious aromas floated by the four as they waited for Pierre Menard, the man who had invited Octavio to participate in the richest and most enchanting poker game in Los Angeles. Octavio had met Pierre at the Italian Bank of Los Angeles where Octavio had a savings account. It was not until the third invitation, however, that Octavio elected to gamble at Barrio Margarito.

  “Hello, Octavio, boys. Pierre Menard called from the ingress of the mosque. I’m pleased that all of you could come.

  Octavio acknowledged him and headed into the house; behind him came Guadalupe, Ignacio and Maximiliano. Pierre shook hands and escorted Octavio to a large upstairs room. In the center of the room, a lamp hung over a round table with five chairs, three of which were occupied. Pierre introduced the gentlemen to Octavio’s right as Humberto Peñaloza, Federico Robles and Stewart Josia Teaze. The chairs to Octavio’s left belonged to Pierre, who sat down, and to Octavio himself.

  When the five were seated, a betting audience began to enter the players’ chamber. Among the bystanders wer
e Guadalupe and Ignacio who stood, and Maximiliano who sat as close to his brother as the guards permitted. Once commenced, the game could last for days, but Octavio had only until early Monday morning when he would have to stop—win or lose—to go to work. This was understood by the four gentlemen.

  Three Japanese men came forth with a new deck of cards. Pierre dealt the first hand. As the hands fell, were played out and dealt again, Octavio learned that his fellow players were the best cardsmen he had ever confronted. He felt that these men were concerned more with the art of gambling than with the winnings. They, like Octavio, shared in the gift. In Barrio Margarito, gambling games were considered an art, and those people who had superior rapport and could communicate with the materials of the game were considered to possess a sixth sense. Octavio enjoyed the challenge and by two o’clock Monday morning when he announced his departure, he had won a large amount of money. Federico Robles and Pierre Menard had lost the most to Octavio. Both men encouraged him to return whenever he could.

  Maximiliano had waited for his brother while their uncles Guadalupe and Ignacio had gone home and returned for them. The four were again driving through the night. Octavio relaxed and pushed his shoulders against the back seat. Soon he pushed open the gate that led to his wife and family. Nana silently let him in and returned to bed. Octavio placed a roll of twenty, fifty and hundred dollar bills on the chest top changed clothes and closed his eyes until six. In silence he ate breakfast, then left for work.

  Chapter 14

  In early March of 1929, Nana’s potted garden on the front porch suffered from over-population. There was no more room for the pots that she insisted on placing there. The potted flower crisis forced Octavio to expand the area. He extended the porch by running it along the front of the house. When Nana saw the porch being built she experienced an unexplainable physical feeling of happiness. She moved slowly about the new porch, sobbing from the ecstasy her pregnant body generated in seeing a large, clean place for her potted plants. Nine months pregnant, about to give birth at any time to their second child, Nana became hysterical upon viewing the new porch. Octavio hugged her.

  “Don’t cry. Calm down and rest,” he said lovingly and escorted her inside.

  Guiding her step by step, he suddenly realized her bravery. Nana sat on the new couch she had picked up at Montebello Furniture. He cushioned her back and lifted her legs onto the couch. He sat at her feet on the braided rug. Her sobbing and laughter subsided. Octavio smiled.

  “What happened?” Octavio held her hand.

  “I can’t explain it. I felt that I drowned in a strange happiness and the only way to save myself was to laugh and cry at the same time,” Nana said softly and stared out the window.

  “You scared me,” Octavio said after they both heard birds chirping somewhere in their garden.

  “Octavio, I’m fine. Don’t worry a bout me. Your mother is just next door. She is watching me. Now go to work. I’ll be fine.” Nana kissed his hand.

  Octavio changed into his work clothes. He went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

  “Octavio, why do you go in so late?” Nana asked from the couch.

  “Gonzalo and William are cutting hours. And it looks like they’re going to lay off some men.” Octavio sat on the small sofa facing Nana and stirred his coffee.

  “What is going on? I see the workers very restless.” Nana struggled to sit up.

  “That is because we don’t know who they will fire. It can be anyone. It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve been a slave. Things are bad everywhere. They ask us to produce less every day,” Octavio said soberly.

  “And Mr. Simons always on his trips,” Nana said. “Why doesn’t he do something?” she added angrily.

  “What concerns him is profit and if he concludes that it is necessary to fire workers, he tells Gonzalo and William and they decide who to fire.” Octavio pushed the door and from outside he waved good-bye.

  Nana placed her hands on her full womb and breathed deeply, relaxed and looked at her feet... What will this all come to? She breathed deeply again.

  Octavio stopped and pushed his cap back, wiped his eyes and peered out at the drying racks. Beyond them giant machines murmured. He adjusted his cap forward and walked right at them.

  Layers of grey-black clouds sliced across the sky heading southeast. The wind raced and molded them into strange, beautiful formations. Below the clouds, struggling to break away, several kites danced. Three boys maneuvered back and forth and around each other trying to avoid a tangle-up. When they saw Damian and Octavio hurrying by, the boys started to roll up the string, for the sun was now setting and hunger began to tug at their stomachs. The wind came a little sharper and colder now. Octavio stopped to pull up his coat collar. Damian lit a cigarette and offered one.

  “No thanks, Papa,” Octavio said. “Are you sure it’s time?” he asked, worried.

  “Yes, Dr. Cushner saw Nana and asked Milagros to send for you.” Damian puffed on the fast-burning, sweet-smelling tobacco.

  “There is nothing we can do then. Just now they fired fifty more men.” Octavio showed five fingers.

  “I hope we don’t get the ax,” Damian said.

  “Many leave and men arrive daily wanting jobs. Most would work for the food only. Even if they don’t get work they make camp near the train tracks. Lots of hobos live there. We are living in bad times. Some of the workers are talking about returning to Mexico, that they will put up a business of some kind. They say that it is a good time now to return because the United States government will pay for the trip,” Octavio said and chuckled.

  “What they want to do is kick all the Mexicans out of the country and never let them come back again. They have said publicly that the Mexicans are a main cause of the economic problems of the country,” Damian replied and stopped.

  The sun fell below the green of the giant cypress which had grown unmolested for decades, surrounded by cactus and maguey plants at the foot of the barranca on Español Street. Octavio and Damian passed by the dump. The people from Simons found it easy to throw their trash at the foot of the barranca. Often residents of north Montebello would deposit truckloads of garbage, rubble, debris of all kinds. The dump became a dangerous attraction for curious children. Rumor had it that a child had been swallowed up and never seen again. Recently, more people, not children, but adults with families scavenged through the bags and boxes hoping to find edible food or something of value to sell.

  As Octavio and Damian came closer to the dump they saw a man moving away rapidly. He carried a brown bag. When he saw Octavio and Damian he looked towards the dump and started to run in the opposite direction. The man’s trajectory was like a breakaway kite twisting, turning, falling. A pleasant smell rose from the heaps of waste. The frames of several wrecked trucks and cars lay silently abandoned in the wasteland.

  Damian grabbed Octavio’s arm and made him stop. He pointed to one of the trucks. From beneath the wreckage of a truck propped on top of two others, a powerful black arm, another arm, a grotesque head, and a torso slowly emerged. Two legs pushed the ape-like phenomenon out of the cavity it had occupied. Moments later there appeared another, and another came soon after. While Octavio and Damian watched astounded and tried to see if these unknowns were human in any way, six more black figures emerged from under the truck’s skeletal remains. The unknowns gathered in a circle and seemed to communicate a plan of some sort because they immediately went off in pairs. Two headed in Octavio and Damian’s direction. As they neared, the blackness of their bodies shone in the reddish light of the setting sun. From different parts of the bodies hung black fibers of varied lengths and widths which danced in the cool wind. Octavio and Damian braced themselves for what was about to happen, for now father and son stared directly into the eyes of the two beasts who went to a pile of wood scraps and gathered a bundle each.

  “Good afternoon,” one beast said.

  Octavio and Damian, shocked at what they heard, did not res
pond.

  “We are going to build a bonfire. With this wind it will be very cold tonight,” the beast added.

  Finally Octavio recognized that the material that made up what seemed to be the beast’s skin was rubber—black automobile and truck tires cut up into pieces and somehow joined to make shoes, pants, vests, sleeves, gloves, masks and round caps. The two rubber men were half-way to joining their companions, who had already started a fire, when one stopped and turned to Octavio and Damian.

  “Come with us, boys!” the rubber man yelled.

  Octavio raised his hand and waved good-bye. The light from the fire was stronger now; only a red hue remained in the western sky. Octavio and Damian glanced back at the rubber men who danced like apes around the fire in the center of a garden of waste. Octavio smiled as he walked away from those ingenious people who survived in the dumps of the cities.

  Damian entered Octavio’s house and found Ignacio Sandoval pouring a straight shot of scotch. Tati and Milagros cooked at the stove. Maximiliano, Jose, Rogaciana and Felicitas, with Micaela on her lap, sat at the kitchen table eating and talking excitedly about the new baby. Ignacio lifted his glass and smiled at his brother-in-law. Tati’s and Milagros’ hands formed tortillas while they acknowledged Damian standing at the threshold of the kitchen. Maximiliano got up and went to the stove and poured a cup of coffee. Jose continued to eat. Outside by the back door in the garden Octavio washed off the red dust from his face, neck and hands and dusted his clothes. The water stopped running and the family could see him standing just on the other side of the screen door.