⎯ We’re doing a lot of renovations to the house, dear; you’ll like what we’re doing, I’m sure. We’ve put a gorgeous carpet down in the lounge and put up wallpaper with lovely, red flowers. Tomorrow we’re getting the new lounge suite that matches the wall paper. What do you think, Tinita? The neighbours in No. 7 have some very strange visitors, they must be foreigners ‘cos you can’t understand a word they’re saying. The other day there was an earthquake at eight in the morning, did you feel it? I was going to ring you at the hospital to check that you hadn’t got too much of a fright, but then I remembered that you can’t talk. Your father and I ran out on to the street and there were all the neighbours running around in circles, really scared. The blond guys came out in their pyjamas and their foreign friends too; they looked as if they’d seen the devil himself; they probably don’t have earthquakes in their country. A week ago there was a shoot-out on the corner, near where the laundromat is. They filled the kid, the one with the tattoos, full of lead, about ten shots, he’s still in hospital. There were helicopters buzzing around all over the place like flies and then the patrol cars arrived making a huge racket, you can imagine, but, as usual, by then the offenders had been gone for hours.
⎯ We’ll buy you a drink, Tinita, would you like that? – says Lolo, who is getting sick of listening to stupid talk.
⎯ Ernestina doesn’t drink.
⎯ Ok then, we can have a couple of beers and she can have a diet coke. I’m parched.
⎯ You’re hung over.
⎯ So what’s new?
⎯ Alright then. The usual place?
⎯ Where else?
When they arrive at the Santa Lucia cantina on Alvaro Obregon, Tinita gets out of the beetle and heads off home. Who would feel like having a beer at eleven in the morning? And even less a diet coke; at this time of the morning it’ll give you indigestion, she thinks to herself.
⎯ Where are you going, dear?
⎯ Why are you asking her if she can’t answer you?
⎯ Take care, Ernestina.
30
Well, it’s like this, mi comandante; I don’t quite remember where I was at that precise moment ‘cos, at this stage, my memory isn’t all that good, like everything else in my body. You know how it is, at my age things start to wear out and one of those things is my memory, to the point where I sometimes don’t know whether I’m coming or going. So, as I was saying, I can’t really remember where I was, but I do know that I hadn’t seen Lolo for about week, more or less. On that awful day, I saw him at around seven in the evening in the cantina, drunk and aggressive.
⎯ Wazzup, Aguinaldo! ⎯ he said to me ⎯ come and have a few beer s with me!
But I realised that he was pretty close to becoming obnoxious, so I just turned around, I mean, I said hello, acted dumb and went to a girl friend’s house and stayed there the whole night. Next day, when I was on my way back, there were all the patrol cars and ambulances at the entrance to the building. They must be filming a Mexi-thriller, I thought to myself.
What? Well, yeah, it’s true, but at the time I remembered where I was when they killed Lolo. I can’t tell you the name of my girl friend ‘cos it would dob her in with her husband. Well, if you insist, but don’t be surprised if she denies it; her husband is super-jealous and I don’t blame him, I would be too if had a wife as pretty as her. Maybe ‘cos you’re young it doesn’t seem such as big deal, but at my age you can’t ask for miracles.
I met Rosita at the local annual fair. She was eating an ice cream with three scoops while she watched Lolo, Fransisco Tocino and me target shooting. She looked just gorgeous with her mini, mini skirt and really high heels; her mouth was covered with ice cream and she was staring intently at the target that we were firing at. She was by herself. I asked her if she wanted to have a go with my rifle, she smiled and said: “I prefer my ice cream”. And off she went moving her hips the way women do when they know someone is watching. I went after her without a second thought.
⎯ What’s your name? ⎯ I asked when she sat down on a bench.
⎯ Rosita. ⎯ I sat down beside her and I looked at her. The tease knew she was being looked at but just kept her eyes on the ice cream, she didn’t talk, she was really concentrating, licking, licking.
⎯ Come and have supper with me. She just shrugged without saying yes or no. I was in a bit of a daze, so I took that to be a yes.
⎯ Where shall I pick you up?
⎯ See you here on Friday, at eight.
She got up and left without even asking my name. She just said that and then she disappeared. I stayed sitting there for a while. Who can understand these damned women? I asked myself that ‘cos, after so many years of etsperience, I still have no idea. That’s why it’s better not to try and understand them or what they want from you. It’s enough for me to just take what they want to give and not ask questions, I wouldn’t wanna end up having to see a shrink.
That’s how we starting seeing each other; I went by to pick her up at eight every Friday at the same place, even though there was no fair or anything. We’d go and have dinner at some hole in the wall cafe and then to some dump of a hotel. She found out my name when I mentioned it; she never asked me, she never asks me anything. Just so’s we don’t get personal, I jus’ tell her what she needs to know, she accepts and says nothing. So, on the quiet, we’ve been going for two years. I don’t know much about her life, nor she of mine. Just one time I found out that her husband goes off on Fridays to spend the weekend in some pueblo somewhere, so’s he can be with his other woman. Rosita doesn’t seem to mind, that’s just what she said, no fuss or silly jealous nonsense. She couldn’t care less about men’s things, it’s like water off a duck’s back; she doesn’t care if I see other women, if I’ve got a steady woman or if I’m married or if I’m shacked up with someone. You wouldn’t believe it, mi comandante, sometimes it gets you right here inside, after all, one does have feelings and that sort of thing gets to you, not too much, but it does get to you.
31
Natalia sits on one of the dining room chairs, her legs are so tired she cannot stand up a minute longer. Her thoughts are suspended in a time that is non-existent and she asks herself how she could ever have thought that Lolo wouldn’t cheat on her, if it is well-known that men are incapable of being faithful, even to their own mothers. She feels so young and immature, but somehow aged, worn down by years she has not yet experienced.
Lolo Manón watches her from the other side of the dining room, his sense of unease and a measure of guilt evident in his eyes. He’s not worried so much about the fact that Natalia has found out about Juanita-Lupita, but more about what the hell he’s going to do about the other problem. The police are sure to be on his tail, waiting for the right moment to sink their teeth into him like rabid dogs. Natalia tries her hardest not to cry, not to scream at him that he is a miserable wretch, a damned son of a you-know-what. She looks into his eyes, Lolo avoids her look, making her feel even worse. Natalia is in pain, hurt, but she daren’t reproach him, nor shout in his face that he is bastard, a pig, that goes around rolling in other people’s beds where they probably don’t even wash the sheets. Lolo sits down beside his wife and takes her cold, sweaty hand in his.
⎯ Are you gonna help me, Natalia? ⎯ Natalia doesn’t answer and looks the other way, struggling to hold together. – Answer me, please. You’re my wife, aren’t you? I married you because I love you. You are the mother of my children, you’re the only one. That woman ... that Lupita doesn’t mean anything to mean, honestly. I mean, she’s stuffed, she’s got a mole full of hairs on the end of her nose and her mouth is sort of twisted. She can’t compare with you, truly.
⎯ So how could you go to bed with her if she was so ugly?
⎯ We didn’t even get that far before she went and overdosed before I could even...
⎯ But that was your intention, wasn’t it?
⎯ Well, yeah ... that’s true....It’s just that ... sometimes, well, I just screw things up and I�
��m a man and ...So are you gonna help me or not?
⎯ What do you want me to do?
⎯ Just tell the police that yesterday I was with you all day and that this morning I left for the provinces on business and you don’t know exactly where I am.
⎯ And if they see you here?
⎯ They won’t see me here because I’m going to Guerrero, with Aguinaldo’s family. I’m gonna stay there until this mess is sorted.
⎯ You’re going?
⎯ I have no option.
⎯ And meantime, what are we gonna live off?
⎯ I’ll work there and I’ll send you money, and anyway, Francisco is here, he can give you a hand if you need anything. Don’t worry, woman, it’ll be alright, I promise.
⎯ Nothing is alright, Lolo; you broke my heart into a million little bits.
⎯ Don’t be a drama queen, Natalia. It’s true, I screwed up, but don’t start getting sentimental or you’ll make me get mad. I told you I loved you and that the thing with Lupita was just a fling, nothing important.
⎯ It’s important to me. It feels really horrible when your husband cheats on you with an ugly maid.
⎯ Don’t start, eh? Look, just go and pack my bag while I sort out some other business.
Lolo goes out leaving Natalia even more disconcerted than before. For a long time Natalia just sits there without moving a muscle, without even blinking, her eyes devoid of tears, a hurt look on her face. For the first time she feels as if love is escaping her, slipping out of her grip. Nothing will ever be the same again and, but what was it like before? probably the same but Natalia hadn’t realised. I wonder when was the first time he cheated on me?, thinks Natalia, because this wasn’t the first time, even though he says it was. How can I believe him now, if everything has been a lie? And now he’s off, he’ll probably take advantage of distance and go back to his old ways. He will always be unfaithful to me, he should at least look for a young girl who is prettier than me. And then he has the gall to tell me it wasn’t important, what does he know? How would he feel if I went off with someone with an even bigger belly, balder and uglier than him? He almost certainly would kill me because that would be important, wouldn’t it?
Much later, Natalia manages to get up and go over to the mirror on the dressing table. She contemplates her reflection. She takes note of her brown eyes with the pained expression, her nose a little too flat, her lips that are far too thin and colourless. After several minutes of examining every bit of her face, she takes out the tweezers and, one by one, pulls out the long curly hairs from the mole on her right cheek.
32
I feel uncomfortable in these hospital clothes. They stink. I don’t know if they smell of fear or decay. Everything here is rotten, it smells like hell. The others here are crazy, not me. They think I am but who are they to say who is crazy and who isn’t?
The lady in the bed next to me lets out some awful screams at night, it makes me laugh, really laugh, because it sounds like a bear cub tied to a post. She’s chubby, so that’s why I thought of the bear. Last night they gave her an injection to shut her up, why don’t they come and give her one today? She’s yelling today as well. During the day she is nice and I like her. Her name is Gustaviana. Gustaviana, no wonder she’s crazy. Yesterday we played with m puppets until dinner time. Gustaviana was happy watching how Señorita Socorro kicked, slapped, pinched and cuffed her psychiatrist. When the dinner bell rang, she refused to go, she wanted to see how Socorro smashed Dr Cantfindme to pieces. They then had to force her to go to the dining room and she started to turn red, then blue. They had to lock her in one of those padded cells.
Another one of the crazies thinks she’s La Llorona, every night she calls out to her children, her poor children; sometimes it’s even during the day. That’s quite funny because she takes off her gown and starts to run naked around the patio shouting for her children. The men‘s block turns into a cage full of excited parrots, hanging off the wire fence and dropping their trousers leaving uncovered their filthy, little, mousey privates. It’s not so bad being here really; nowhere else in the word can you see things as funny as these. The worst thing is the dog food and the latrines; if it weren’t for that, perhaps I’d ask to stay and not go home, ever.
La Llorona gave me a birthday cake last time I was here. I am one of those who comes in and goes out on the same day and La Llorona stays here all the time. She’s happy calling out to her kids and making birthday cakes. The problem with the cakes is that she usually gets the ingredients mixed up and she uses maiz flour or salt instead of sugar. I thanked her with a smile but I didn’t eat it. I gave it to Conchita, the nurse, who must have thrown it in the rubbish. All of us in the hospital know about La Llorona’s cakes because, for that sort of thing we crazies aren’t that crazy.
The hospital is an old building, with really high roofs with false ceilings. It has a very large courtyard; years ago it must have had a very nice garden, with lots of plants and trees. None of that is left because in this city people are determined to destroy pretty things; they cut down trees and pull up gardens to lay concrete and make basketball courts. When I was a little girl, I went to a school where they tore up the garden and flattened it all with concrete. Who told them that kids like smashing their teeth on the pavement? People are selfish. I hate people. I like this place because there are no people; there are only crazy women here and crazy women aren’t people, they are human beings. It’s a shame there is no garden here; we could sit on the grass in the sun or watch the sunset, leaning against a tree laden with pears; once in a while a pear might fall on my head. Gustaviana would start to cry with laughter and La Llorona for her kids. There are wooden benches with no back, where you can sit as if you were in the park, except that here you can’t watch people go by walking their idiot dogs that lift their hind leg to squirt every post along the way. Males have always been idiots; I imagine men squirting each corner of their house to mark their territory.
According to the sick, there are ghosts at night, particularly when there is a storm and things like that. One imagines lost souls wandering the hallways making a terrible racket with their chains and bloodcurdling screams. They don’t realise that they frighten themselves with their own screaming and wailing. Couple of months ago I got tired of La Llorona because she wouldn’t let me sleep. Ay, my children, my poor children, my poor, wretched children. I got out of bed and slapped her across the face a couple of times.
⎯ Just shut up, damned Llorona. Can’t you see that you’re keeping up awake? ⎯ someone else said that through my mouth because I don’t like to speak.
⎯ Hey! What’s up with you?
⎯ Can’t you cry for your damned children at a more reasonable time?
⎯ It’s that I killed my children.
⎯ The only thing you’ve killed is sleep and you’re getting on my nerves. For God’s sake, go to bed.
I took her to bed, I laid her down, I covered her with the blanket and I was about to go when she grabbed me by my nightgown with all her strength.
⎯ Don’t leave me, sister, my children need me.
I held her tightly and she cried on my shoulder for a long while. But she no longer cried with the terrible wails that gives you goose bumps. She cried like a little girl and I felt sorry for her. She fell asleep and I did too. I was woken by one of the nurses as she hit me on the legs with a broom handle.
⎯ You’re a crazy, lesbian pig. What the hell are you doing in La Llorona’s bed?
⎯ It was about my children – said La Llorona-. She came to tell me I didn’t kill my children.
⎯ And that’s why she stayed sleeping here with you? Besides, she’s one of the mute crazies, she couldn’t have come and said anything to you.
⎯ Honestly, the two of us were crying for a long time and then we fell asleep.
⎯ The only thing that’s gonna fall on you is cold water, you pigs.
She put the hose on us just like the crime movies and left us without food the
whole day. It didn’t bother me one little bit because I’m used to cold showers and the food is disgusting; so it was nothing to me. La Llorona caught the flu really bad and her need to cry for her children became greater than ever.
33
Ramiro Perez checks the pockets of the jackets, the trousers, the blouses and lastly the skirts; he counts each item, makes a note of them, does the receipt and hands it to the lady from the drug store. Lolito Manón leans on the counter, lights a cigarette and smokes casually, each of his movements seems to be mechanical or deliberate. His eyes wander over the drug store lady’s legs as he thanks her.
⎯ Old goat’s got good shanks, eh? ⎯ says Lolito between puffs.
⎯ Two, three. Must have been a bit of alright in her time. ⎯ Ramiro organises the clothes, he divides them up by type, then label and leans back alongside Lolito.
⎯ What did El Carroña tell you? Has he disposed of the stereos? Asks Lolito, his gaze fixed on the street.
⎯ Nope. He’s a bit nervous about the Macacos gang, so he’s hidden them away.
⎯ Now what? What are those crooks up to?
⎯ They say we’re working in their patch. We’ve got to be careful with these dudes.
⎯ Bah, they’re not a patch on us, they’re just rookies.
⎯ Hardly, man; the Macacos are in bed with the fuzz, and that puts us at a disadvantage. Every week they cough up with the dough and that keeps them happy; in the meantime, we’ve been farting around.
A Dead Man's Travail Page 8
