Rosa No-Name

by Roger Bruner

  Unable to think of food—Alazne’s safety was the only thing on my mind—I shook my head and handed the sandwich back.

  She held it out again. “We need to have every bit of our strength if they need our help.”

  Although I gobbled it down as if I had never eaten before, its tastelessness perfectly matched my lack of hunger. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Juanita and Dr. Morales had left to look for Tomás and Alazne two hours earlier.

  I held my hands on my lap, clasped together so tightly they were numb. Every few minutes, I released my grasp and shook the blood back into them. Before long, I clasped them again—even more tightly than before.

  What if we are too late? I fought to keep from considering that possibility. Or by now had it grown into more of a likelihood?

  I looked in the direction of the village, but I couldn’t see anything through the scrawny trees and undergrowth.

  Nikki had fallen asleep. I envied her ability to relax that easily. I wouldn’t sleep again until Alazne was safe in my arms and Tomás locked in handcuffs and on his way to prison. For life. Or, better still, on his way to be executed.

  Nausea became my constant companion. Anxiety had already tied my stomach in knots, but the pain grew more intense as the afternoon sun raised the inside temperature.

  “Keep the doors locked and the windows closed,” Juanita had said. “The glass is bulletproof, but Tomás could shoot you through the slightest opening in the windows. If you get too warm, turn on the ignition and run the air conditioner. The villagers shouldn’t be close enough to hear it. Here’s the key.”

  We had obeyed without protest. No matter how desperately I wanted to turn on the air conditioner now, I didn’t want to wake Nikki. So I continued perspiring.

  Once again—was it the thousandth time or the ten thousandth?—I asked myself, What if it is already too late?

  That was it! I couldn’t stay in the van any longer. I had to find out what was happening.

  I opened the door quietly to keep Nikki from hearing me. Not only would she try to talk me out of going, she would try to restrain me physically when her words failed to stop me.

  I considered leaving a note, but what would that accomplish? When she woke up, she would know I was gone. Out…looking for Alazne. And it would be too late to stop me.

  Although I might have been acting out of foolish desperation, I wouldn’t do anything to endanger Nikki. So I locked the door again before pushing it shut. As gently as I could. She barely stirred.

  I would work my way toward the center of the village. I remembered a place I could hide and still see everything. But what would I do if I saw something suspicious? Or nothing at all.

  I hid behind the familiar clump of cacti. It had grown slightly taller and fuller during my years in San Diego. I looked in every direction and then sighed. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared to be happening.

  The villagers probably didn’t realize Tomás was close by. Considering their feelings about him, they were unlikely to be hiding him.

  No, if he was anywhere in the vicinity, he was hiding from them.

  Then the palm of reality smacked me in the face. If Tomás had intended to lure Nikki and me here, I knew where to look. Better that I should find him before he found me. Or Nikki.

  Although the injuries from his beating still made movement painful, I walked as rapidly as I could along the overgrown path to the river and went downstream a ways from the rocky area where the village women did their laundry.

  To the more isolated spot where I had once spent a happy and romantic afternoon with Tomás. Before taking a ride in his van. Before “doing what boyfriends and girlfriends do” and becoming pregnant with Alazne.

  But those things had taken place a lifetime ago. Or so it seemed.

  “Tomás!” I screamed into the warm spring breeze. Never had I spoken so forcefully. “I am here. Where are you? Come talk with me.”

  I’d undoubtedly spoken more boldly than I should have, but I was no longer concerned about my own safety. “Where is our daughter, Tomás? I will kill you if you have hurt her. You know I will.”

  The sounds of splashing and childish laughter made me look toward the river. Tomás and Alazne were playing in the water.

  He appeared to be enjoying himself. Drenched from head to toe, he turned toward me and smiled. I’m not sure I had ever seen him look happier or more carefree.

  Fifteen feet or so beyond him, Alazne faced the opposite bank. Perhaps they had been playing some sort of game—I couldn’t be sure—but Tomás glanced in Alazne’s direction frequently, making sure she was safe.

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Rosa. Alazne—you’ll notice I always refer to my daughter by name now—Alazne and I have gotten to know each other quite well this past week. She’s a wonderful little girl, and you should be proud of her. Even though I don’t deserve to call her my daughter, I am proud of her, too.”

  Huh? He hadn’t restrained her in any way. She moved about as freely as if she were under my care. Although I questioned—I seriously doubted—Tomás’s ability to become a good father overnight, I had to give him credit for taking such amazing steps in that direction.

  With her eyes closed as she spun around and around in hip-deep water, Alazne hadn’t spotted me yet. She was making so much noise splashing and squealing that she probably hadn’t heard my conversation with Tomás. Or perhaps she had assumed her padre was talking with one of the villagers.

  I watched for several minutes, marveling at her dexterity using crutches in the river. Despite my joy at seeing her and my relief about her apparent safety, I hesitated to interrupt her fun time with Tomás.

  “Alazne, look who’s waiting.” Tomás pointed to me as she circled in my direction. She twisted around on her crutches and opened her eyes to face me. She squinted. The glare from sunlight on the water must have been ferocious.

  “It’s your momma, Alazne. She’s been worried about you. She didn’t know you were safe with me.”

  “Momma! Momma!” How wonderful those words sounded. I splashed my way into the water without even removing my shoes, scooped my precious jewel into my arms, and held her close. Letting go of her crutches, she hugged me back with all of her childish strength. Neither of us wanted to let go.

  Tomás must have noticed that Alazne’s crutches were about to wash downstream. He grabbed them and took them ashore. I marveled at how well he seemed to have adjusted to her infirmity. Adjusted and accepted.

  Alazne and I clung to one another for a number of minutes after coming ashore, but I could tell she was getting sleepy. Playing in the water must have worn her out. I set her down far enough away on the riverbank for Tomás and me to talk privately.

  “Perhaps it was wrong for me to bring her—Alazne—here without your permission. But you and Nikki were in grave danger if you remained at the apartment. I had to get you to safety. I didn’t know how else to do it. You wouldn’t have believed me if I’d said I wanted to take you somewhere for your own good.”

  I looked into his eyes. “You didn’t bring us here to kill us?”

  Tomás drew back in what appeared to be genuine shock. “No! Why would I want to do that?”

  “Because we could testify to the police that you beat up Nikki, Chalina, and me when you were drunk and out-of-control one night last week. You also… Never mind that part; I can’t think about it now. You know that Mother Chalina died from your beating?”

  To this day, I don’t know whether I wanted to learn what he knew and remembered or to test him to see whether he had any conscience left. Either way, my sadistic joy over his reaction continues to sadden me.

  He broke down in tears, unable to respond for a number of minutes. When he spoke, his words came out in short, broken sentences. “Chalina…dead? No! I did…that? You must…hate me. I hate…I…despise…myself. I should be…dead. Not her. Not…Chalina.”

  Tomás must not have been carrying a gun. If he had, I think he would have pulled it
out and killed himself. Right there before my eyes. During the years I’d known him, he had never demonstrated remorse over anything. The only tears I had seen him cry were selfish, pathetic tears over his own misfortunes.

  Tomás had become a new man—a complete opposite of the old one—and I didn’t know what to make of him. I couldn’t imagine what had changed him so drastically.

  “I didn’t know. You must believe me. By the time I awoke at my mother’s the next day, I couldn’t remember anything about the night before. Momma showed me the blood stains on my clothes, and I matched some of them to the wounds on my arms, face, and back. But not all of them.

  “Momma made me stay with her. We were afraid I had done something horrible while I was too stoned to know what I was doing.

  “I couldn’t understand why you’d sent Alazne to stay with Momma. I believed you were ill, but I had no idea I was to blame.

  “Momma and I talked a lot—about important things. I would have come back—I would have faced the consequences sober—to make things right.”

  “It’s too late to make things right.” I hated myself for chiding him so viciously, but I couldn’t stop. “Too late for…Mother Chalina.” Did he even remember I was her daughter?

  He could barely speak. “You are correct, but…I can still make some things right. I will return to the city and turn myself in.

  “But first let me tell you of the arrangements I’ve made for you and Alazne. For Nikki, too, if she wishes to remain in Santa María. She won’t be in any danger from my enemies, though. Not as long as she doesn’t remain in the apartment.

  “You will have a one room shack of your own. No better, no worse than any of the other village shacks. You will have food and clothing, whatever you need. If you…”

  He broke down again for a minute, but then he grew wide-eyed with concern. I knew what he was thinking about.

  “The thing you wouldn’t tell me regarding that night. Will…will you need folic acid because of it? Because of…me?”

  I looked into his eyes before responding. “I won’t know for a while. But, yes, I may be pregnant again.”

  A moment earlier, I had wanted to spit those words out in anger. But something had tamed my wrath. Slightly, anyhow. I spoke in a more matter-of-fact tone when I added, “And, yes, it would be because of you.”

  “I am…sorrier than I can say. If you need folic acid, just ask. I didn’t deserve the privilege of fatherhood once, and I will be dead before I become a father again.”

  “Why talk about death now, Tomás? You spoke of giving yourself up to the police. Won’t they protect you?”

  “They can’t. My enemies are too numerous and too powerful. I won’t survive the return trip to San Diego, and I refuse to endanger anyone else by trying to defend myself. I probably won’t have a chance to surrender to the police. Even if I reach the city.”

  “So it was your enemies who rigged your van to explode? You didn’t do that yourself?”

  His face blanched and his eyes opened wide. “They what? Do you know for certain that happened?”

  “I saw the explosion. Nikki, too. Your mother…she was desperate to find you. We couldn’t stop her. I…I’m truly sorry, Tomás. I…” I shrugged helplessly. If Señora Isabel had somehow rendered this kind of change in Tomás, I could truthfully say what I couldn’t have said before leaving San Diego. “I will miss her, too.”

  How unnerving to pity the man who had done so much evil to me and my friends. Even though he had brutally murdered my birth mother, I held him against me like a mother comforting a distraught child.

  He sobbed loudly and ceaselessly for many minutes, the shoulder of my blouse soaking up his tears. I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes. He appeared to have aged ten years in the last week. I didn’t know how much longer he might continue his heartbroken wailing, but I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—fail him now. Not the one and only time he actually needed me.

  I would behave like a real wife—or a loving sister or a substitute mother. It wouldn’t matter which, for they would all be the same to him now.

  Words cannot always bring comfort. So I remained silent, wiped the tears from his face, and patted his back the way I had often comforted Alazne. Fearful that he might never stop crying, I made up a little lullaby and began humming it.

  He calmed down, and I maneuvered both of us to the bare earth, where I guided the back of his head to my lap.

  I rubbed his temples with my fingers and massaged the muscles of his arms and shoulders. They were remarkably tense. No matter how peacefully he appeared to be sleeping, his body wasn’t fully relaxed. His peace wasn’t real.

  After thinking about the events of the past five years, I reached an incredible conclusion. Although I should hate Tomás, I couldn’t. Not now. Whether my hatred would return later, I couldn’t say, but now was not the time to permit the muscles of my emotions to grow tight and tense.

  I needed to do more than just pity Tomás. I had to care about his pain. I could hate him any time I chose to, but I could love him only this once.

  ~*~

  Tomás didn’t sleep more than fifteen or twenty minutes, but he seemed slightly more refreshed and less agitated when he woke up. We sat side by side without talking or touching and stared at the water.

  Alazne was still asleep on the riverbank. She hadn’t heard our conversation. A four-year-old wouldn’t have understood any of it, but his uncontrollable emotional state would have distressed her.

  Tomás turned to face me. “Rosa, I must return to the city tonight. Now that I know about the van, I can’t take a chance my enemies would follow me here.”

  I nodded.

  He began gathering his belongings from the riverbank. “But first I have something to give you. I’ll be right back.”

  I sighed. Parting from Tomás forever would be a time of mixed emotions. The only thing I understood was I didn’t hate him. Not at this moment. And I couldn’t understand why.

  I was still sitting on the ground when he returned. He was hiding something behind his back. I stood up to face him.

  “Rosa, I am not good with words. I am even less good at expressing my honest feelings. Perhaps this will tell you what I cannot say…” He straightened up and spoke in a trembling voice, “We have never really been husband and wife. I don’t deserve a wife like you, but I can’t leave with our relationship up in the air. Can we at least…?”

  He brought forward what he had been holding behind his back.

  I heard what sounded like gunshots, and then Tomás crumpled to the ground. What had just happened? I didn’t understand. I couldn’t move fast enough to catch the new clay water pitcher before it crashed to the ground, the single red rose looking as lonely amid the shards of broken pottery as Tomás looked lying on the ground.

  How often I have thought of that pitcher and rose as symbols of his death. But I couldn’t think at all then. I didn’t realize Tomás was injured, much less dying.

  I fell to my knees beside him. Unaware at the time that I had cut my knees on the broken pottery, I leaned closer. That’s when I saw blood gushing from his side and from his abdomen.

  He was trying to speak. Although he barely had enough strength left to talk, he persisted in finishing his question. “Can we be sweethearts again? Please?”

  I realized then how badly injured he was. Perhaps fatally.

  “Yes, Tomás,” I whispered. I couldn’t deny him a small measure of peace in death, whether he deserved it or not.

  He mouthed something I wouldn’t learn the meaning of until years later. “He has forgiven my sins.” Then he died in my arms.

  I remembered my old dream of someday looking into Tomás’s eyes and seeing something special in his heart.

  I saw it at last that day.

  26

  When morning broke, I was still half asleep. Why did I feel so groggy? I massaged my forehead gently. I rarely had headaches. I’d heard of migraines, but whether this was one, I couldn’t sa
y. I would ask Nikki—no, I would beg her—to cut off my head when she woke up. But then I sighed. She would just laugh at me.

  I had only the haziest recollection of Dr. Morales giving me an injection while I lay on the ground the night before, struggling to protect Tomás’s body with my own and wailing in rage, “Juanita, you didn’t have to do this. You shouldn’t have shot him. Was this the only way? It wasn’t too late before. But now…”

  I didn’t care whether she was enough of a woman to understand. Sure, she had reacted within the context of what she thought was about to happen. She believed she was protecting me, but she was wrong. I wasn’t in danger, and she would’ve discovered that if she had waited just a second longer before acting.

  It never occurred to me that attacking a police officer might send me to jail for many years. That wouldn’t have stopped me, anyhow.

  Only my refusal to loosen my grip on the body—I kept hoping that by holding it as tightly as I could I might somehow bring it back to life—kept me from battering Juanita with every ounce of my righteous anger.

  She and Dr. Morales had both tried to pry me loose, but my grip was too strong. Too determined. They appeared to give up. Then I felt a sharp sting in my arm. The tension in my muscles made it the most painful injection I had ever received.

  The rest of the night was a blur.

  ~*~

  I couldn’t evaluate my emotional condition today, but the anger seemed to be gone. I still resented the terrible thing that had happened so unnecessarily the previous day. Unnecessarily and yet inevitably. That tragedy hadn’t been a matter of if but of when. If not yesterday, it would have happened another time.

  Soon. Very soon.

  I couldn’t lift my head all the way yet, but it felt slightly better. Glancing at the wall beside me, I realized I was inside one of the village shacks. I was stiff and sore—partially from the beating Tomás had given me a week earlier, but mostly from sleeping on a blanket on the hard dirt floor.

  ~*~