by Pastor, Juan
Tejana puts her lips on Sin”s bloody and swollen lips. She leaves them there a moment. Then she pulls her face away.
“Pervertido!” She exclaims.
Sin wags his tongue back and forth between his swollen bloody lips as if imitating a zombie rock star. He seems gleeful that he has just had it as deep in Tejana’s mouth as he could get it. Then he opens his mouth wide. I think about how gross Sin’s mouth used to look with his crooked yellow teeth. The good news is – most of those teeth are gone, and on the floor of the cantina.
“Te ves bien (you look good).” Tejana says, and stretches herself across him.
All The King’s Horses
Skyler listens to the plan. That is the name her
parents gave her. Not Schuyler, but Skyler. Across from her sits Tejana. Tejana has been thinking long and hard about this. Tejana sits in the black stained wood chair with the padded red leather seat and backrest. Her long brown legs are crossed, and her short skirt hides very little of them and that is the way Tejana likes it. She has her high heels on. There is blood all over everything she wears. Sin’s blood. It is on her legs. But she doesn’t care because she has Sin back, and that’s all that really matters. To her. Now.
Skyler is the widow of the recently assassinated U.S. President. Nobody calls her Skyler, because she hates the name Skyler. Even she hates the pretentiousness of it. She insists her friends call her Sky. Tejana does not call her Sky because Sky does not consider Tejana a friend. And the feeling is mutual. The news of the assassination has not left the immediate circle of power. Skyler can’t quite believe what she is hearing. Tejana shows Skyler an assortment of pictures of both the now dead President and Sin.
“It is pretty amazing isn’t it?” Skyler asks.
“It’s uncanny.” Tejana says. “He’s going to need
reconstructive surgery anyway.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” Skyler says.
“When would you have noticed it?” Tejana says.
“When you were making love to the back of his hand
with your fingertips?” Skyler says, never blinking.
Tejana returns the not blinking look for several
minutes. Then she takes some of her curly hair in her fingers, and tucks it behind her ears. There is the slightest twitch of the corners of Sky’s mouth, like she wants to say something, but she does not say something.
“He can just have the few remaining teeth pulled.” Tejana says. “We’ll get him full prosthodontics. The one on fours. Where they put four implant screws in both the upper and lower gumlines, and give him permanent dentures. That eliminates a positive tooth ID.”
“It’s going to have to go way beyond that.” Skyler says. “Almon was a very vain man. He had perfect hair and perfect skin. Everything about him was perfect. Except for his ethics, that is.”
“That’s easily taken care of.” Tejana said.
“What about fingerprints?” Skyler asks.
“We remove the fingertip skins from your husband, and graft them onto Sin’s fingers.” Tejana says.
“What about his cock?” Skyler says.
“What about Almon’s cock.” Are we going to transplant that onto Sin also?”
“I don’t think we need to go that far.” Tejana says, one side of her mouth starting to smile, the other side remaining reserved enough to reverse the smile, if need be.
“Sin has a pretty big one.” Sky says. “And it seems pretty responsive to your touch.”
Tejana says nothing.
“My husband now, he doesn’t have much of one anyhow.” Sky says. “He liked screwing me over as much as he liked screwing everyone else, but not with his cock.”
“You do realize, if this plan succeeds, Sin will be acting as your husband.” Tejana says.
“Oooh!” Sky says. “I wonder if he’ll like sticking it in me. I’m going to let him stick it in any hole he wants, any time he wants. You know, I haven’t had sex with a man in I can’t remember how many years.”
“Well, God have mercy on Sin then, huh?” Says Tejana.
“Do you think he’ll stay faithful to me?” Sky asks with a deep laugh. It is the first time Tejana has heard her laugh throughout this entire discussion. “I hear he really loves the hot Latinas.”
“Sin loves anyone that is hot.” Tejana says.
“Are you hot?” Sky asks.
“Hot enough.”
“Well.” Sky says. “Between the two of us, we ought to
be able to keep him happy, oughtent we?”
We Can Rebuild Him
Plastic surgery isn’t the sure thing everyone
thinks it is. There are always things that can go wrong. Infections. Allergic reactions to the drugs that prevent infections. One body’s rejection of tissue material from another body. It is with high suspense that the wrappings are removed.
Many months had passed since the real Almon Abhorson’s death. But the spin doctors had been at work. The news was that he had somehow miraculously survived. He was in a special clinic in Mexico. In the meantime Sky is making appearances for him. Officially, the Vice‐President, Rupert Pauldine, is in charge. Good old “Rupe”. But the real power behind the throne is Skyler Abhorson.
After many many months, the last of the operations is complete. I had done the initial work on Sin, but once the repair work was done on his jaw, and I had repaired some of his internal organs, and removed his obliterated spleen, he was turned over to other specialists. I hadn’t seen him in some time. Skyler made sure of it. If Sin was to be reeled in, hook, line, and sinker, she didn’t want interference from someone like me. But now, Sin was healed, and he had asked for me. Skyler couldn’t say no.
I knock on his door at his suite in the clinic. It is my clinic, dammit, why hadn’t I been allowed to see him, and why did I have to knock even now to be granted admittance?
But knock I do. And wait.
“Come in.” The voice says. It is two parts low and
gravelly, like Sin’s voice, and two parts reassuring and authoritative at the same time. Like a voice I’d heard before. Like two voices I’d heard before. Now blended into one voice. “The door’s open.”
When I step in, his back is turned to me. I see the back of his head, and the back of his head looks like the back of Michael Douglas’s head, or maybe Pat Riley’s. It also looks like the back of Almon Abhorson’s head looked. But the hair is a little whiter, slicked back, the hippie’s ponytail gone. I can see some of his face in the mirror. What I can see leaves me speechless.
“Can’t you turn around?” I ask. “Let an old girlfriend look at you?”
“I’m afraid.” He says.
“You better stop being afraid.” I say. “You are President now.”
“I’m so afraid of what you will think of me.” He says. Only the low and gravelly is coming through now. He is forgetting his speech lessons. Or maybe his throat is already hurting.
“I’m going to see it one way or another anyhow, soon.” I say. “Pretty soon the whole country will see you. The whole world.”
“Don’t remind me.” He says. “I already can’t sleep, and I feel like I’m getting an ulcer. All I really want to do is go back to my cave in the desert.”
“Like the murcielago?” I ask.
“Like the murcielago.” He replies.
“But you won’t, will you?” I ask.
“No.” He says. “I won’t.”
“Because you are no longer blind?” I ask.
“Because I am no longer blind.”
“Turn around, pretty boy.” I say. “I want to see your face.”
Sin turns around. Only it is no longer Sin. It is Almon Abhorson, like he always looks when he comes back from vacation somewhere. The teeth are pearly white. The face is tanned and radiant. The eyes are piercing blue. The hair is slicked back sleezy Wall Street executive style. The list of procedures performed on him are:
1. Facial skeletal reconstruction
&
nbsp; 2. Rhinoplasty
3. Skin grafts
4. Facial chemical peel
5. Total prosthodontics
6. Minimal hair restoration
I can’t help but wonder. Will Almon’s family see through this ruse? His old friends? But then I remember that Almon had no family. He grew up in an orphanage. He was never adopted, never even had foster parents. No one ever wanted him. People still aren’t even sure where he came from, or who were his biological parents. People still aren’t sure his birth certificate is real. They don’t know for sure where he was born. And he had very few friends – until he grew powerful.
“Do you have a hug for the perfect man?” He asks. “My kingdom for a hug.”
I give him his hug. Gotta give these old guys a hug. That’s what they live for. (Smile) He won’t let go for quite a while.
“Do you have a notepad?” Sin asks. “I’m going to have to write. My voice is giving out.”
I look through the drawers of a bedside cabinet. I find a tablet. I find a pen. I give Sin the tablet and pen.
“What does Skyler think?” I ask. “And where is she?”
“I threw her out.” Sin writes. He flips to a new page on the tablet “damn meddling bitch” another page “not supposed to smoke” flip the page “or chew tobacco” another page “they’ll make my white teeth yellow.”
“And you don’t want yellow teeth.” I say. “Do you?”
“And I can’t drink” he writes “or get high” he writes some more. “Why get up in the morning?”
“What does Sky think of the new Almon?” I ask.
“She’s in heaven.” Sin writes. “gets to sleep with Tejana’s boyfriend”.
Sin throws the pen and tablet on the bed. “Getting tired of writing.” He says very softly. Pauses. Then continues. “She thinks she’s reliving The Man In The Iron Mask, or something. The a‐hole husband is gone, but he left all his money, and the White House; and the nice new husband, who is a really good f‐‐‐‐er and dancer gets to hold her hand at parties now.”
“So, have you done the First Lady yet?” I laugh.
“She’s hot to trot.” Sin says. “But I can’t get myself up for her.”
“Like you can for Tejana?” I ask. Then I realize he isn’t going to play, so I drop it.
“I’ll tell you, Pequeña…” Sin says. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Skyler?” I ask. “Or be President?”
“Both.” He says. “There is too much enormity wrapped up in this. I have too many questions.”
“There were a lot of things I thought I couldn’t do.” I say. “But you showed me how wrong I was.”
It is silent for a while.
“Do you have feelings for me?” I ask.
“It’s complicated.” He says.
“How so?”
“I’m in love with you.” He says. “But I love you like a daughter too.” His voice is starting to crack again. I don’t know if it is from the strain on his voicebox, or emotion.
“That is complicated.” I say.
“Yes.” Sin says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
“Would you do anything for me?” I ask. “Would you help me make this world a better place, given the opportunity? NO matter how or why or when that opportunity presented itself?”
“Yes.” Softly.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Will you give a message to Tejana for me?” He asks. He is barely audible.
“I will.” I say.
“And will you tell Skyler to come in…?” He asks. I cannot hear the end because his voice has gone silent.
The Garden of Clinica Rosaria
Fountains have always enchanted me. That is
why I had this one built in the center of the courtyard. Just like the Spanish would have done. This is how the Moors created an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. Then they brought their architecture and gardens to Spain. Then the Spanish brought the gift of the Moors to the Americas. Not everything the Spanish brought to the Americas was bad.
This fountain is three‐tiered. It is made of baked clay and it is an ochre color. It stands in the middle of an octagonal pool. The inside of the pool is decorated in very colorful tiles. I am not really sure if the colorful tiles are Moorish, Spanish, or maybe even an Aztec influence. I think Moorish. On the railings of the stairs and balconies of the clinic Bouganvillea grows. And the garden is very sparse and uses plants that would survive in the Sonora on their own. Cacti, agave, asters, a few cypress for their stateliness, primrose, the rare Crossosoma for instance. Pavers of baked clay radiate from the pool to the corners of the courtyard. I don’t know if they are supposed to be part of such a garden but I have planted citrus and olive trees.
Bougainvillea is not really native to Mexico. It originally was a South American plant. It would grow almost wild in Rosaria’s home country, El Salvador, and it did quite well in my home country Guatemala, but it was usually intentionally planted. The plant was named after the French navy explorer Louis Antoine de Bougainville, but it was first described in writing in a journal of Philibert Commercon, a French botanist. But it was actually first seen (by a European) by Jeanne Bare, the lover and assistant of Commercon. Bare was sneaked on board, disguised as a man, by Commercon so that he would have his love interest with him during this attempt to circumnavigate the globe. The circumnavigation was successful and Bare was the first women to do so. This is why I like Bougainvillea. It reminds me of brave women.
But I am not brave. People say I am brave, but I am really a bit of a coward at heart. Yes, I made this trip with Rosaria, but I would never have worked up the nerve if it were not for Rosie.
I have come here to pray. I love the fountain and the lovely plants, but I have come here to pray for courage. I have come to pray for myself, and Sin. I have come to pray for Tejana. And yes, even pray for Braulio and Skyler.
I have not prayed since I was a child, when I actually believed there was a God, and I knew I was talking to Him, and He was listening, and He was guiding me. I so desperately want to believe again. No, I want to be sure. I want to be as sure that God exists as my mother was sure. For her, there was no doubt. Me, I’m full of doubt.
See, I am Latina. I am Roman Catholic. The Spanish brought horses to America. They brought pain and slavery and death. They brought beautiful gardens and wonderful architecture. They brought the knowledge of the woman who would crush the serpent, and she would have the Son that would die for all the sins and sinners of the world.
That Son prayed that the cup might pass. He prayed among the citrus and olive trees that He might be spared. They betrayed and killed him anyway. I pray that the cup not pass, and I don’t want to be spared.
I think I’m beginning to understand the Virgen Maria. I know why she let Sin be beaten within an inch of his life. I know why she wouldn’t let anyone fight for me.
I understand why it was so important to Rosaria that we come on this pilgrimage, and why it was so important that I come with her. I think she knew that the Sonora is the vortex where many destinies were soon to collide, and she knew it was important for all of us, me, her, Sin, the Virgen Maria, Tejana, Braulio, Skyler, Almon, John D, Bo, and the whole cast of characters, to be here.
I understand why I was found by the wolves, and why I was rescued by a disgraced doctor turned recluse. Isn’t it amazing how the violence of the world can end so many dreams? Yet, for all of us on this grand Sonoran adventure, the dream that appeared to die is about to be reborn.
So here I am, kneeling on the step at the fountain. The
water flows from the upper level to the middle level to the lower level and then into the pool. The sound of the water is soft like a prayer.
I pray like I mean it. I say to God “It has been THEIR time for so long. It is OUR time now.”
I may be on my knees, but I don’t beg. My begging days are over.
I demand.
The News Conference
Skyler looks very stately as she stands at the
glass podium. She may be a trophy wife first lady, but she has a way of commanding everyone’s attention when she wants it. And she wants it now. Tejana, and Braulio Sepulvida, the Mexican President, have already had their turn to speak. El Presidente looks to have recovered very well, but he uses crutches to make his way across the floor. He completes his speech to a round of loud cheers. He lets himself enjoy the cheers. He hasn’t heard much cheering during his embattled presidency.
The conference is being held at the Clinica Rosaria. The “spin” doctors for both Presidents insisting it will create a more intimate environment for the first messages of the two men since the “botched” attempt on their lives.
People all across the world watch Skyler speak.
“Almon still has some difficulty speaking.” She says.
“His larynx suffered some damage. That damage has been repaired, but it will be some time before he is back to normal.” She pauses. “Personally, I’m enjoying an Almon who is a little less long‐winded.” She waits for the laughter in the room, and the world, to erupt, run its course, and subside. Then she continues. “We will be heading back to Washington soon. Obviously, I can’t give you the details, for security reasons, but we will be back in the White House soon. Almon and I, and El Presidente Braulio and Tejana have had some very fruitful talks, and we intend to implement a number of strategies that will bring a new age of cooperation between the U.S and Mexico, and between all the nations of the Americas, for that matter. As soon as Almon and I get back to Washington, and get things in order, we will be having a news conference to lay out those strategies. Hopefully, Almon’s voice will be fully recovered by then. If not, I guess I’ll have to continue doing the talking.”
