A Dead Man's Travail

by Susana Pagano

⎯ You don’t say! Which Freddie Frog do you think she was with last night?

  That was what I was playing at when I heard someone arriving at the house. I thought it was my papá. My papá is good to me and he would probably let me off my punishment. I opened the door of my room just a little, not very much. I heard voices. It was Mamá and she was talking with a man. I came out of the room scared out of wits because, if Mamá had caught me she would have locked be in my room again for sure and wouldn’t have let me out again for three days. I peeped out to see if the man in the lounge was Papá. Mamá was sitting on the man’s knees and they were kissing passionately, more than in the stories I used to read in those days; not even like Freddie Frog kissed the princess in the jail. That can’t be Papá, I thought. The man put his hand up Mamá’s skirt and Mamá laughed all stupid like. I asked myself then what was so funny about him putting his hand up her skirt. These days I don’t ask. Afterwards Mamá began to undo her blouse in front of the man and began moving her hips as if she was dancing the lambada, the dance that’s in so fashion at the moment. It’s definitely not my papá, I thought. Who could it be? Maybe I don’t know him but I can’t see him from where I am ‘cause Mamá is in the way. And then Mamá moved funny and I was able to see him at last.

  ⎯ Uncle Lolo! I shouted and ran to say hello. I loved my uncle very much when I was a little girl ‘cause he was lots of fun and very kind to me. I threw myself into his arms and happened to knock Mamá out of the way, her blouse still in her hands and all. I don’t remember much about the telling off she gave me, but I’m certain she must have felt like sending me away somewhere. Afterwards, she had me sitting in the bathtub in freezing cold water. I got pneumonia and almost didn’t live to tell the tale.

  5

  The tension is so tangible you could cut it with a knife and slice the rage, the confusion and the fear into small pieces. Aguinaldo Misiones takes huge strides across the length and breadth of the lounge, he doesn’t look at his seven children seating in a row on the big sofa in the lounge, waiting for the storm to be unleashed upon their heads at any moment. But no one is more fearful than Carmen, the eldest of them all.

  Her head bowed and her eyes red and swollen, she awaits the death sentence or worse. Aguinaldo keeps pacing without saying a word. The silence is torture for Carmen. She expects the worst punishment - a direct pass to hell. She wrings her hands until it hurts. But what does it matter if the pain she feels in her heart is greater than any torture on earth or the hereafter? Aguinaldo Misiones stops in front of her. Damnation, thinks Aguinaldo, she’s such a spoiled brat! He continues to pace up and down like a caged lion. His seven children, their heads bowed down almost to their knees, patiently wait for the stream of insults and the hiding they’re surely going to get.

  ⎯ Fuck! is the only word that Aguinaldo utters. The fact is, he doesn’t know what to say. Should he beat his daughter to within an inch of her life, which is what he feels like doing? Don’t be an idiot, he thinks. The damned stupid brat, why did she have to go and do this to me? Why me?

  ⎯ How far?! Carmen is startled, she expected a slap, a tirade of insults, a strapping, but not a stupid question. Six pairs of eyes rest on her at the same time; she is right in the middle of the chaos, the tragedy, the reason for the imminent end of the world.

  ⎯ How far what?

  ⎯ Don’t act dumb, how far along are you? Aguinaldo’s eyes bore into her. She’s not only sly, she’s stupid too.

  ⎯ Four months – Carmen’s speaks so low she can hardly be heard. Aguinaldo has to make an effort to hear her reply.

  ⎯ What?

  ⎯ I said I’m four months pregnant. Carmen is almost shouting now. She looks at her father and begins to shake.

  ⎯ You’re four months along and you’re only just telling me?

  ⎯ Yes.

  ⎯ But why did you wait until now, you stupid girl?

  ⎯ It’s just that I didn’t know what to do.

  ⎯ So what are we going to do now you’ve come up with your Sunday the fourth

  ⎯ Seven.

  ⎯ I thought you said four?

  ⎯ It’s just that you’re supposed to say, “Sunday the seventh”

  ⎯ Don’t change the subject, dammit!

  ⎯ Alright.

  Carmen looks at her papá fearfully.

  ⎯ I’m gonna take you to see a witch doctor.

  ⎯ Why?

  ⎯ To get rid of it.

  ⎯ I don’t want to get rid of it.

  Aguinaldo’s jaw drops open so wide and a fly looks as if it’s going to go in any moment. He stares at Carmen and his eyes are blazing, he looks murderous, as if he were about to strangle her on the spot. Who does she think she is? Is she possessed and I’ve only just realised?

  ⎯ It’s not about what you want any more. Before, you wanted the moon and stars, and now look what you’ve gone and done. Now you will do what I say. Tell me who the father is because, if you can’t get rid of it, it’ll be your problem. Aguinaldo waits for an answer, his seven children all have their heads bowed, their eyes on the floor as if they were admiring some nice, shiny shoes. Carmen doesn’t answer, her hands are shaking and her voice would too if she dared to speak. – I’m waiting – his daughter is too afraid to look up, let alone answer the question ⎯ Answer me, you little Jezebel ⎯ Aguinaldo’s shout makes her jump.

  ⎯ It’s Lolo’s, Lolo Manón’s.

  It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Aguinaldo Misiones looks as if he has turned to stone or is playing statues. The kids don’t dare look at him or make a noise, not even a peep. The tension is building; it’s like a storm about to hit at a zillion kilometres an hour. Aguinaldo can feel his pulse in his temple, his heart beating and the rumble of his gut. He sits on the chair in front of his children. He looks down at his hands, his nails are dirty and need cutting.

  What does all this mean? He can’t believe it. He is bewildered, blinded and dumbstruck, and he just can’t get the idea into his head. His daughter, Carmen? The eldest of the seven, the prettiest, the most promising, the most diligent, is pregnant by that good for nothing, that rat bag who is old enough to be her father? No. He must have heard wrong, his hearing must be going and he’s hearing hallucinations. Can you hear hallucinations?

  ⎯ What did you say? ⎯ the question is out before he realises it. Carmen doesn’t answer, his vision begins to blur as large tears begin to run down his cheeks, he just keeps on crying. ⎯ You’re...you’re pregnant with Lolo Manón’s child? Is that what you said? You are carrying my friend Lolo Manón’s child?

  Carmen still doesn’t answer. It would be better she were dead and buried metres underground, she thinks, rather than have to hear her father’s trembling, irate voice. Aguinaldo Misiones doesn’t know whether to explode right now like a bomb and hurl his daughter against the wall, the floor and the furniture, or whether to just put a bullet through his ear so he doesn’t have to listen to any more of this madness. But then, an even worse feeling overcomes him, he feels utterly humiliated. So that’s what Lolo is trying to do, he thinks; he wants to make me feel I’m at his mercy so he can make fun of me; I should kill that son of a bitch. But Aguinaldo knows he won’t do this. He won’t stand up to Lolo because he feels weaker than him, worth less than him, more vulnerable. I cannot forgive that mother fucker for this. Aguinaldo leaves the house without a word, slamming doors as he goes. Carmen and her siblings heave a sigh of relief. Today, at least, he won’t be taking out his hatred on them with blows and insults.

  Aguinaldo didn’t go home to sleep that night. His children saw him come into the apartment the next day like a ghost. He said nothing to any of them all day. The youngest didn’t know what was going on or why their papá didn’t even say hello to them; none of them could think of anything they had done lately that was bad enough to explain why. Their sister, Carmen, knew, but she remained silent.

  For several days, Carmen and her father visited doctors over half the city to find one who would do th
e abortion, but they all said the same. There was nothing that could be done as it meant risking her life. Not one of them was willing to take that risk. Aguinaldo eventually gave up. The damned brat, he kept saying. Carmen never responded. She kept her head bowed, her lips trembled. Two weeks later, Aguinaldo turned up with Crescencio, a kid only a couple of years older than Carmen and who looked like a layabout.

  ⎯ Put on a decent dress ⎯ he told Carmen ⎯ in two hours we’re going to the registry Office.

  ⎯ Where?

  ⎯ To the Registry Office. Are you deaf as well as a slut? Stop bawling and do as you’re told.

  ⎯ Why are we going to the Registry Office?

  ⎯ You’re gonna marry him. His name is Crescencio.

  ⎯ How can I marry him when I don’t even know him?

  ⎯ You need some dickhead to be a father to your brat, don’t you?

  Back in her room Carmen cried for a whole hour. Her sisters tried to console her but only managed to make things worse. She wanted to face up to her father, but her shame held her back.

  Two hours later, when Aguinaldo knocked at the door, Carmen was ready and waiting in her best dress and with a little makeup to cover up her puffy eyes. She followed her father to the Registry Office without a word, signed the marriage certificate and in the blink of an eye she had married a perfect stranger, who would become her worst nightmare and her penance for all her past and future sins.

  6

  You will understand, Señor Lawyer, when I say these have been hard times, very dark times. Life has been fickle to me and very unkind, as if I owed it something and it was recovering old debts. Maybe I was really bad in a past life, who knows? Why me, Señor Solicitor? Why me? I’m a God-faring person; I work day in and day out so me and my family can get ahead, and the kids can go to school and they want for nothing. I’ve always tried to be a good wife, a loving mother, an up-standing woman, and now look how God has repaid me for my efforts. How will I find the strength to keep going. Since this all began, I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve no appetite and all I can think about is how much I miss my husband. I need him, you understand? Sure, he didn’t work much and preferred to be in the cantina with his friends; but you get used to people, to the little things in life. I loved him a lot and I’m not lying when I say he loved me too. After all I am the mother of his children, aren’t I?

  I grew up in a pueblo in Hidalgo, but I was very young when I came to the capital and I reckon I’m more of a city girl. Lolo stole me when I was thirteen; we got married after he had taken my virginity, and he brought me here. I haven’t been back to my pueblo since then, not even to visit my parents, who died shortly afterwards. I’ve heard nothing from any of my brothers and sisters – there were heaps of us; one of my uncles took them in and went with them to a ranch in Zacatecas, which Zacatecas is a long way away. I’ve never been out of the city, except to go to Acapulco sometimes; but that has been only in the last few years since Lolito and Hortensio have been able to look after La Covadonga, that’s my grocery store. Before that I never went any further than the next block, except when we went as a family to La Marquesa on one of the holidays; but as we don’t close even on Sundays, we are always here looking after the shop.

  When Lolo and me were first married, times were hard; there were days when we didn’t have money even for atole. The kids started arriving and the situation got worse and worse, expenses doubled and we needed a heap of stuff. Lolo was determined that the kids go to private schools ‘cause state schools are shit...sorry, but that’s what he used to say. So things were really tight. It was awful ‘cause the little that Lolo earned would go completely on rent and school fees. Shortly after I had the twins, I inherited some money from an uncle I had never known - I still know nothing about him. So with that we were able to set up La Covadonga. Actually, Lolo didn’t want to. He was determined to go on a trip and fritter away the money. I just said yes at the time and he started to organise the trip the United States; he wanted to go to Disneyland, ‘Hollygooth”, San Diego and San Francisco. Then one day I arrived and told him we weren’t going anywhere.

  ⎯ What are you talking about, woman? - he said angrily.

  ⎯ We don’t have any money to go on any trip.

  ⎯ What the hell did you do with it all?

  ⎯ I spent it.

  ⎯ What do you mean, you sent it? Stop talking nonsense and tell me truth.

  I was very brave on the outside, but inside I couldn’t shop shaking. I knew that at any moment he was going to hit me and break my teeth; not that he hit me very often, but I recognised that tone of voice and I was waiting for him to land the first punch.

  ⎯ I bought a grocery store close to here – I told him, and before he could take the first swing at me, I ran to my room and barricaded myself in as best I could; I even put the bed up against the door so that he couldn’t break it down with his fists.

  ⎯ Open the door, you stupid bitch (‘scuse the expression, but that’s what he said, word for word). I’m gonna kill you.

  ⎯ Why would I open the door? Do you think I’m stupid?

  ⎯ I’m telling you, open the door.

  ⎯ So you can kill me? I’d have to be crazy, wouldn’t I?

  ⎯ Yes, you are crazy. How dare you disobey me? I told you we weren’t gonna spend the money on any of your stupid ideas; you can’t just go and do anything you feel like with the money.

  ⎯ Let’s be clear. The fact is, that money was mine; and I bought a shop because I felt like it; and because I feel like being able to feed my kids; and I feel like paying for my kids to go to school; and I feel like having chicken sometimes and not tortillas and frijoles; and I feel like living like a decent person.

  ⎯ The money’s gone to your head, but I am your husband and I have a right to do whatever I like with my wife’s money.

  ⎯ I’m not as stupid as I look. I talked to a lawyer first and, because we chose to keep our assets separate when we got married, he told me that what’s mine is mine, and that you, who don’t have two frijolitos to rub together, don’t have a right to anything. And another thing, just so you know, even if you killed me you still wouldn’t get the store because I made a will; so don’t even think about sending me off to meet Saint Peter.

  ⎯ You think you really smart, but this is really gonna cost you. You’ll pay for this, I swear by the Virgin of Guadalupe. And don’t think that I am going to help you one little bit.

  I have never regretted this, even though he was true to his word. Not only did he not help selling or buying merchandise, from then on he spent his time drinking with his friends, playing pool and fooling around with other women. He never looked for work again, but I didn’t care. With the store I could put food on the table and provide an education for my kids and, aside from that, I saw neither hide nor hair of Lolo except at night or when he came to ask for money for drink. After that, my life was much quieter and more peaceful. According to him, he took revenge on me, but it was really the other way around. He did me a favour because I was rid of him.

  Don’t get me wrong, Señor Lawyer. I loved my husband a lot. What happened was that although he was pretty awful, the situation between us changed as soon as I set up La Covadonga, and I didn’t have to worry about money any more. I turned a blind eye to his monkey business and he left me alone to run my store. That way we lived in peace for many years.

  7

  Lolo looks sideways at the mirror and smiles. His hair hasn’t begun to thin yet; his waist still hasn’t started to spread with all the beer, mezcal and fatty food; and the wrinkles on his forehead haven’t yet made an appearance. He prides himself in being a real man. He grabs his bottle of beer and sits on the edge of the bed. He looks around the room but he’s not looking at anything in particular because he’s listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom. I like women, all women. I don’t ask for much, what for? They’re only good for one thing, no? Except Natalia, she’s good for nothing, she’s like a rag dolls, she takes no
initiative at all. Yeah, I like all women except my own. He can hear the tap running, the sound of someone gargling and spitting into the hand basin, footsteps that come and go, backwards and forwards, a sigh, a yawn. Then nothing. Silence. The breathless silence of waiting. Then Lolo Manón himself begins to pace the room restlessly, his member painful from waiting. He looks at himself again in the mirror. Not bad, he says out loud, breaking the silence. I could be cross-eyed, or have a nose like a parrot in a cage or the body like a drowned worm. He lights a cigarette to kill time. There has been no sound from the bathroom for a while now. What the hell is going on with her? She seemed to be as keen as me. She must be sick. She had ranch style eggs with a lot of hot sauce; or maybe she has diarrhoea. He turns on the television and stubs out his cigarette. He’s beginning to get annoyed. She’s just like the rest of them, she’s making me wait. By the time they come out you’re about to burst and you feel like raping them. On Channel Two, the Polivoces are on, with their bad jokes and filthy ponchos; no wonder the gringos imagine us sitting under a cactus. On Five there’s The Untouchables - never been interested. On Thirteen, the news; what a bore, it’s always about people killing other people; like seeing different versions of the same movie. On Four, Super Agent 84; such an idiot and so mediocre, but he really makes me laugh, the twit. He turns off the tele and looks out the window. The city is quiet, how strange. What’s Juanita thinking ..or is it Lupita? What was the damned woman called? Who cares?, the name isn’t important anyway. I don’t feel like it any more. Fucking bitch. He moves towards the bathroom and puts his ear to the door. Nothing. Juanita? Are you still there? What are you playing at? Come out, will you? Lolo is getting impatient, he goes round the room three times, then comes back and puts his ear to the door again, not a sound. I’m coming in, Lupita, I’m tired of waiting. He turns the handle, pushes the door open and goes in. Juanita (or Lupita?) is sitting in the corner of the bathroom between the toilet and the bath. Her eyes are closed, her skin is a light copper colour and she is very pale. He mouth is open and a thick strand of dribble falls on to her dress, leaving wet slime on the material. Lolo can’t think to even ask himself what happened or how it happened. Juanita isn’t moving, she seems quite calm, as if it was the most natural thing to be sitting down between bath and toilet. She is very still and there are no signs of life. Only just a while ago she was the life of the party and full of smiles, and she says to me, Let’s go somewhere else, sweetheart, we can’t chat properly here. And there I am like an idiot, Sure, princess, I’ll take you to the Buquinjan castle right now. You made me come all the way here, I had to pay the room in advance and now who’s gonna give me my money back. OK, Lupita, stop fooling around; look, there’s a cool porno movie on the tele. Lolo Manón grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her; he slaps her a couple of times - not too hard, he tells himself, just in case she comes back with something three times as hard. He blows air into her mouth like he’s seen them do in the gringo movies, but not too close so as not to get slime on his lips. He tries to open Lupita’s eyes. You’re as stiff as a stiff, you little shit ... Oh, fuck! Lolo lets Juanita-Lupita’s head go and it cracks against the edge of the bath. Lolo Manón races out of the bathroom and stumbles around the room looking for his trousers. The rotten bitch, why the hell did she do that, dammit? He finds them and pulls them on without first having found his under wear. Twenty five years hard labour in Las Islas Marias and all ‘cause I had the hots. What’s Natalia gonna think? Ay, Natalia, forgive me. I swear to God this is the last time. He does up his shirt all wrong, puts his feet half way into his shoes and flees the room panic stricken. Oh, hell, now I’m really fucked...