by Gus Leodas
“I have a large shopping bag. Put other things on top for disguise.”
“I’ll shop after I leave you.”
He headed towards the closet for the bag. She intercepted and hugged him tight.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Tomayo. Everything.”
She reassured herself.
Pilar arrived at the gate at five o’clock.
Thirteen hours to go.
From her room, Pilar peeked out the sliding door for life. Seeing no one, she stepped out to the balcony for a better look then went downstairs, same there. A cook buttered toast in the kitchen.
“Christina, where is everyone?”
“Hello, Mrs. deLorenzo. They all went horse riding. They should be back by six. Anything I can do for you?”
“No. I just wondered where they were.”
Pilar entered the pool area to assure no one was there. The volleyball bobbed near the edge. She lifted the ball shaking the water off and carried it inside. Christina, busy, missed her return.
Pilar hastened up the stair feeling as a thief. Closing the door to her room, she leaned against it with relief and success with that phase. Her heart throbbed.
If it did that at this stage, what will happen later?
She was on the runway, idling, and tried to think positive. She had scissors in the bureau. She placed the ball between her feet as both hands pushed the scissors and penetrated. It required ten minutes to cut the ball into small pieces. She stuffed the pieces in a stocking and hid it at the bottom of a large suitcase in an emptied package of personal napkins. She added clothing to the suitcase.
No longer nervous, she would return the replacement ball to the pool as if Roberto carried it to the room.
The ball cradled in her embrace as she descended the stair, hearing Christina’s noises in the kitchen. Strolling to the pool’s edge, she placed the killer ball in approximately the same place where the old one floated. Pilar looked up at her balcony. It seemed far enough away. She looked around again. No one. She checked the balcony again to quiet doubts of danger to Uncle Rafael at that distance, convinced he’d be safe.
Pilar walked to the far end by the diving board and tables. The weather forecast proved accurate. Warm wind increased with a snap. She picked up the newspaper from the table, sat in a lounge chair, and awaited her family and enemies.
Pilar looked at her balcony again and again, visually measuring the distance from the deep end. The distance was safer from there, where they entered each morning – diving in at the deep end.
Six o’clock.
Twelve hours to go.
At six-thirty, from the distance Roberto and Sorel’s voices announced their return. They ran to their mother and raved how good they rode the horses. Steinerman and Marichal waved to her and went inside. Uncle Rafael and Andres remained absent.
“Esmeralda, where’s Andres?”
“The President and Andres were inseparable today. They came in with us then the President challenged Andres to a race to the nearest clump of trees. They should return soon. Andres is a good rider.”
Esmeralda, Sorel, and Roberto disappeared inside. Waiting for Andres, Pilar watched the ball pushed by the wind as it bobbed on the wind-scalloped surface. In ten minutes, Uncle Rafael and Andres appeared. The President had his arm around Andres.
“Quite a man you’ve got here, Pilar. He rides a horse like a gaucho. I’m proud of my godson.”
Andres beamed. He sat by his mother.
“Did you get your shopping done, Mother?”
She hugged him. “Where’s my kiss?” He kissed her cheek. “That’s my big boy. Yes, I shopped and bought you a sweater. Did you have a fun day?”
“Uncle Rafael is fun. And I beat him in a horse race.”
“That you did,” Uncle Rafael concurred winking to Pilar.
“Listen, Andres, it’s getting windy and you’re sweating. Go upstairs. I’ll be right up. Try the sweater. Let me know if it fits. Don’t forget to shower.”
“Okay. Bye.” He ran off.
Uncle Rafael sat. “Did you have lunch with Tomayo?”
“He made me pay for it that Gigolo.” Uncle Rafael laughed. “He also said to tell you he’s been asked to bid on a large contract.”
“There you see. How simple. Come, let’s go inside. Andres beat me up today. I guess I am getting old. Siesta time.”
“You go ahead. I love this time of day. I want to sit here to finish the paper.” He left.
Her thoughts worked in a triangle: from her to the ball, from the ball to the balcony, from the balcony to her.
She wondered – What could possibly happen to prevent it? What could go wrong?
What?
She headed upstairs after a lasting look at the ball as if expecting it to give the answer.
Roberto lay awake in bed.
“Mommy, I can’t sleep. My tushy hurts.”
“Here, let Mommy rub it.” She massaged the area over his pajama. “How’s that?”
“It’s going away.”
Pilar lay down and he snuggled with thumb in his mouth. He sighed from security. His thumb sucking bothered Pilar and hoped he’d break the habit himself. She promised to concentrate breaking it when her life settled. She noticed a marked increase in Roberto’s insecurity since Carlos’s death. His death affected him and showed through the thumb sucking. Roberto slept. She laid there, mind active, stomach wound up.
Seven o’clock.
Eleven hours to go.
Pilar tried to sleep. She needed to sleep afraid exhaustion would make her oversleep. Without an alarm clock, she always awakened early here before six expecting her pattern to remain the same.
At seven-thirty, Roberto awoke and ran downstairs to the game room. Her plan was to have dinner at nine o’clock and go to sleep by eleven then awaken in time. She couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed thinking then slept at eight o’clock.
A startled awakening!
Panic!
What time was it?
Pilar groped to reach her watch on the night table.
Three-thirty!
Two and a half hours to go!
Not daring to lie in bed on the chance sleep may return Pilar stood by the bed forcing her mind to clear to gain control.
Her heart raced.
She adjusted the sheets around Roberto satisfying herself he was comfortable and carefully releasing the thumb from his mouth. The maternal gesture eased tension. She assumed Esmeralda prepared Roberto for bed.
Moonlight streaked the room with hard lines as she waited in the dark listening.
Silence.
No one else was awake. A need came to look out the window to make sure the ball was there. Why should the pattern change? The ball floated, coaxed, and steered by a mild breeze towards the deep end’s twelve foot depth.
Night was peaceful. On any other tense night, she would’ve gone for a walk. Instead, the walk to the bathroom to wash served as a substitute.
She was hyperactive, tense, and nervous; fingers vibrated – a sign of unsettledness. She felt that any minute someone was going to enter the room and shave her head in preparation for the final walk to the electric chair. Nerves tried relaxing in assorted methods: washed her face three times; brushed her hair for countless strokes; twitched the mouth, widened the eyes, wrung the hands, and paced the legs; how the half-hour passed.
Two hours to go.
She glanced at her watch. The more the glances, the slower the hands seemed to move. As the minute hand reduced the next hour, doubt came sudden as an arrow uninvited and overwhelming.
The air grew dense as jungle heat.
The next half-hour brought fright.
Pilar filled with withdrawal, insecurity, and failure. Then she looked at Roberto and quivered a sudden chill. She lay down and hugged him wanting to explain into his sleeping ear why she must find the courage to go on. A phantom relief valve decompressed her frailties. She then waited by the sliding door with a new determinati
on to finish her mission.
Wind delivered the ball to the deep end drifting towards the corner. She began the mental and physical preparations. The compact came out of the purse and rested on a table near the balcony door. She arranged the curtains to best advantage to monitor the area unseen.
She analyzed the explosion.
Should she run back out to the balcony or should she run downstairs? The balcony. What about the compact? In her purse. She tried to envision the day after the explosion. No one should suspect her. Her children slept on the premises. Would she be bold as to attempt something daring that might endanger them? Why should she be suspect? No one had reason to suspect her, except Uncle Rafael and he was no immediate problem. She was family. Authorities would never dare accuse her.
She could find no loopholes except the pieces of the first ball. Why should anyone look through her personal belongings? Sometime during the day, she would go for a drive and disperse the pieces over a long stretch of road or place them in the incinerator at her apartment building. A hammer would destroy the compact at a safe time.
The weakness in the plan was if Uncle Rafael refused to come to the balcony to talk. Would he want to talk from in the pool? She must act persuasive to divert him. Would he want to shout from the pool and chance waking the children? No.
Five o’clock.
One hour to go.
She opened the door to the adjoining room where Sorel slept, adjusted her covers, looked at her peaceful face, and then stroked her hair. Esmeralda slept in the room next door. The connecting door was open and her snoring filtered into Sorel’s room. Pilar peeked into Esmeralda’s room then returned to hers. She opened the door connecting to Andres’s room. Andres slept.
She stroked his head and face, his father’s son, a strong resemblance. Pilar leaned over and kissed his head then left with caution to avoid disturbing him further. The purchased sweater piled on the bed. She folded and placed it in his bureau as if it was the last thing she could do for him before the execution. She stared at him with pride and left the room closing the door behind her.
After the door clicked, Andres opened his eyes.
Five-thirty arrived, an eternity.
They would wake soon. Pilar pressed an ear to the door, quiet. She checked the balcony door. More lights turned on downstairs. Servants prepared breakfast.
Dark began its slow dissolve to light. The distant sky promised a perfect day. Birds seemed to sing louder and the ball drifted towards the shallow end. Pilar returned to the hallway door, ear cocked.
Five-thirty-five.
They murdered Carlos!
Daylight filtered through the sliding door increasing with intensity with each passing minute and providing adequate light to inspect the compact. Raising the lid, her mind reviewed the upward and downward strokes then put the compact back on the table, open.
The muffled sound of water flushed in a bathroom.
Five-forty.
Five-forty-five.
They’re going to take your son!
A door closed at the end of the hall. Footsteps passing her door headed for the stair and she wondered who it was. Within ten seconds another door closed then another. Two men spoke low as they passed her room. She thought her uncle and Marichal. The voices were a low murmur through the door.
Pilar tiptoed to the sliding door, picked up the compact, and held it open in the left hand.
Her heart jogged.
Somebody wrung her nerves like a towel.
With lungs heaving deep breath to ease the wringing, she pressed against the wall with eyes closed and head tilted upward seeking strength to continue.
Someone else swung a sledgehammer against her stomach wall.
Her heart raced as a desperate zebra pursued by a lion.
Her palms sweated.
Five-fifty.
They’re going to kill Uncle Rafael!
The sliding door to the terrace slid. The metal scrapping on metal had an abnormally high-pitched grating that morning. General Marichal looked at the sky, approached the pool, and felt the water by the deep end. The ball floated at the shallow end. He returned to the house and closed the door.
Pilar realized her hands shook, her throat parched, and pulse rate stayed in panic. She commanded herself to think and calm; total disobedience. She wanted to pace to exert tension but didn’t dare leave the door. Her eyes stared by the terrace door. Tomayo’s words echoed loud – What do I do with the children? What do I do with the leftovers?
Six o’clock.
The door slid open.
Marichal came out first followed by Uncle Rafael and then Steinerman. They meandered towards the deep end and remained there. Pilar prepared to go out on the balcony holding the compact securely. Bernardo came out, turned on the lights, threw the floating net in the pool, and went back inside.
Steinerman dipped his toe in to test the water. Thin layers of mist drifted upward in the contrasting temperatures of water and air. The pool had the glow of a bright morning.
They’re going to take your son!
Steinerman dove in. Marichal followed.
Pilar rushed out.
“Uncle Rafael!”
Her voice was louder than intended. She waved restrained. Uncle Rafael waved back.
“Good morning, Pilar. What are you doing up early? Come on down and join us.”
“Good idea,” she responded at a better level. “May I see you a minute first?”
Her hands continued to shake.
“I’ll be right there.”
He gestured to Steinerman and Marichal that he’d be right back.
“Come closer so we won’t have to talk loud. I don’t want to wake the children.”
As he walked towards her, she consumed relief from the success of the initial stages. She waved back to General Marichal, who encouraged her to come in, with arm motions.
Her uncle was thirty feet from the balcony.
She pushed the first switch into position with trembling fingers.
Twenty feet.
Closer. He must come closer.
Fifteen feet.
Almost.
Her finger was primed; throat, vacuum dry; heartbeat in chaos.
A little closer.
Nine feet.
About right. Get him as close as possible.
Uncle Rafael stopped and looked up.
“What is it, Pilar?”
Pilar didn’t hear him. Horror strangled her senses.
It wouldn’t work!
They were in the deep end and the ball floated in the shallow.
Panic came screaming scolding her for exposing herself early. She made a mistake! She should have waited until they started playing with the ball. They always played with the ball!
Terror gripped her eyes. She must wait…stall…somehow.
Marichal called Uncle Rafael. “Mr. President!” His voice startled Pilar.
Could he know?
Uncle Rafael turned. “On your way back can you please throw the ball to us?”
“In a minute, Ludwig. I’ll be right there.” Uncle Rafael turned back to Pilar.
Pilar was confused. What to do? What to say to Uncle Rafael?
What’s the excuse for calling him over? She didn’t plan on what to say. The explosion should have happened by now. She cursed the obvious loophole.
Then the unexpected happened.
If Pilar had a weak heart, she would’ve had a heart attack.
Andres ran out onto the terrace in his bathing suit and dove into the pool.
The tempered water refreshed Andres as he surfaced with excitement near Marichal.
Pilar’s mouth moved in vain to call his name.
“Andres!”
His name came out with horror although she tried to act calm. Rafael looked towards the pool. Andres stopped swimming and looked towards his mother. The look on his face proclaimed that he knew he was in trouble. What was she doing up this early?
“Andres, come o
ver here this instant!”
Andres tread water to delay the scolding and lecture.
“You better go,” Marichal said to Andres. “Throw the ball to me on the way out.”
Andres swam towards the steps and the ball.
“I’m coming, Mother!”
He picked up the ball and climbed the steps. The ball felt strange to him and he shook it.
Pilar swallowed her breath.
“Andres!”
God! The imbalance!
His mother’s yell erased all curiosity. Drawn by his mother’s ire he carried the ball towards her. Then he remembered, turned to Marichal, and prepared to throw it to him.
“Get over here!” she hollered no longer restraining. “Who gave you permission to go swimming? Come here!”
Andres decided to hold the ball and respond to the call. He stopped then threw the ball at least fifteen feet short of Steinerman.
“Pilar, relax,” said Uncle Rafael. “I told him he could swim with me this morning.”
Andres ran towards Uncle Rafael, who put his arm around Andres to protect him from a mother’s wrath.
Failure came haunting.
Don’t do it Pilar. It’s not going as planned. Think of the children. What will happen to the children if caught? Go and get the ball. There’s nothing wrong with failing this time. Tomorrow. We can try again tomorrow.
Although shaking, she felt an easing of pressure with those thoughts.
Maybe it’s best to wait.
The ball drifted away from Steinerman. He swam after it towards the middle of the pool. Reaching the ball, he flung it to the net and scored. Marichal congratulated him and pursued the ball.
The ball was in perfect position!
Pilar looked at Marichal and Steinerman then Uncle Rafael and Andres.
Perfect position! Nagging questions froze her hand. Were Andres and Uncle Rafael safe at that distance? Were they far enough away? Will they get hurt?
Marichal picked up the ball. It felt strange to him. Pilar noticed his curiosity. Believing it his imagination, Marichal threw it to the net. Something bothered him and he swam after the ball. The ball had hit the rim and bounced to his right.
