Doña Luciana, the grandmother figure who took her in and would deliver her baby, walked at Louise’s side. Several Simons Town children took turns holding Louise’s hand. The children walked proudly, escorting the beautiful gringa who had appeared one day in front of Doña Luciana’s house. In these months, as her baby grew, time had gone by quickly while Louise learned a great deal about Mexican life, helping Doña Luciana do her daily chores, visit her patients and other pregnant young girls, even some women who in their late thirties, early forties were having their seventh or tenth child.
Doña Luciana and Louise took seats near the front, where they could see, up close, the Simons orchestra prepare and tune up for the concert. The orchestra occupied a wood stage that Simons’ workers had constructed for its performances as well as for those of the folk dancers, speakers and for Mr. Walter Simons and his family. Children played between the rows of seats and ran behind the orchestra while parents chatted with neighbors. Louise missed her family, but her heart’s place, she told Doña Luciana, was next to Albert. For Albert it had been a long day. He had gone to the university to submit an engineering paper and talk with his professors about his absences. In the afternoon he worked at a building site in East Los Angeles, where Sun Construction Company was putting up several small factories and warehouses. Several days earlier, Albert had sent word to his father that he would return to work before the Cinco de Mayo celebration. He did not see his father. Instead he went with Sol to the job site and started immediately.
The orchestra continued tuning up as people milled around, buying food and drinks and other products that outside vendors had brought in for the Simons celebration. There was still time, Louise thought. The baby moved. She gently patted her tummy. She was tired and it was easy to close her eyes just for a minute to rest. A Straus waltz woke her right up. She blinked and blinked, again and again, finally realizing she was in Simons Town, sitting in front of a thirty-piece orchestra that played to an audience of one hundred seated Mexicans. The seats behind her were all taken, and still a crowd of hundreds stood listening to the magnificent waltz. Albert was nowhere to be seen. She turned to find him standing right in front of her.
“How did you do that!” she shouted over the music.
They moved away from the music to a huge avocado tree that stood at least thirty feet high. Albert and Louise sat down on the bench surrounding the large trunk. Everybody protected the communal tree and picked the many avocados that the tree abundantly produced every year. The orchestra played on under the lights shining down on the stage. So many people had come tonight. Many gringos came from outside the community to dance to the waltzes and to the current popular big band tunes of the day, as well as to buy tamales, chicken moles, menudo, pozole, fried rabbit, horchata, aguas dulces, buñuelos, pan dulce, elotes, helados—food to eat there or take home—and to see the spectacular fireworks that would fill the evening sky. At a safe distance, in the middle of a broken brick fire ring, the men started a bonfire. People walked around the fire. Young women walked in one direction and young men walked in the opposite direction. Louise now knew the custom. Slowly the crowd circling became mostly couples. Parents and chaperones watched from a distance, giving their daughters and sons the space to court openly. To Louise the music sounded especially wonderful. She cradled her head in Albert’s arms. They watched and listened. The orchestra began to play another waltz.
“Louise, I have something for you.”
She sat up. Men threw more wood into the growing bonfire.
“Louise, please, I have this ring. … Will you marry me?”
The music stopped and the musicians walked off the stage to resounding applause. Albert and Louise noticed the musicians joining various gatherings of people. Some went to drink a beer, others picked up their children, others embraced their wives, and a few walked by smoking cigarettes. Everyone congratulated the musicians, patted them on the back and shook their hands, appreciating their talent and the marvelous music they had performed. Simons residents, in particular, took great pride in the hard-working musicians, all of them Simons brickyard workers who labored twelve to fourteen hours a day and then practiced their instruments individually; on rare evenings, they rehearsed together as an orchestra.
The music had stopped abruptly, cutting off Albert’s proposal of marriage and, worse, Louise had not answered. Should I ask again? he thought. Maybe she didn’t hear me. Louise stood up. He stood up. She took both his hands.
“Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
She hugged him and led him to join the couples walking around the bonfire. That Cinco de Mayo the musicians played late into the night, and there were more fireworks than usual. For Albert and Louise, everything seemed greater than ever before.
ALBERT HAD ASKED Sol to make sure the ring was available. Sol had described the large diamond solitaire buried in the mud and high grass on the constantly changing edges of the river. The diamond wanted to return to the human world and had pushed its golden circular host upward to the surface to rest on fine green river moss. On one hot day, the sun shined down intensely on Los Angeles. Thousands of people scattered up and down the river, seeking shade under large river trees, umbrellas, tarps and towels stretched on wooden stakes. They walked into the cool water of marshy side streams, jumped into swimming holes, waded along waist-high canals and swam in the deep river pools that formed after heavy rains in the mountains. People leisurely walked the edges searching for a spot to claim and eager to get into the water. The diamond’s sparkle had never caught anyone’s eye. The river had given Sol so many wonderful objects that he automatically searched whenever walking its banks. A brilliant sparkle caught his eye on that sizzling day, and he cautiously moved closer to see it better. The bright twinkle appeared, but this time it reached out with a red and a blue tiny flash. It again sparked up from on top of the moss, this time even more brilliantly. Another vase, Sol thought. He was only a few feet away. With such radiance Sol expected a larger object. He stood at the center of the source. He spun around and then spun in the opposite direction, but saw nothing. It must be the sun, the river and the heat playing tricks. He looked down between and around his boots. A couple walked by with three children. Sol smiled at them. He felt foolish standing and slowly sinking into a moss bed. He lifted his right boot, stepped on more solid footing, and set his eyes on his left boot to pull it out of the moss when he saw the magnificent diamond ring in the middle of his right boot print. He squatted down, picked up the ring and held it to the sun.
Sol dropped to his knees and quickly stuck the ring in his pocket. A young man stopped and extended his hand to Sol.
“Take my hand. You’re sinking, mister.”
Sol took the man’s hand because he realized he could not rise from the mud that was slowly sucking him down deeper. He heard a woman calling for help. Three men came running up to see the mud hugging Sol’s waist. Two men with no fear or hesitation quickly and gingerly found the solid edge of the sinkhole and grabbed Sol’s arms and pulled. By then more men had arrived to pull him out. Several women brought buckets of water to clean the mud off his clothes.
Sol placed his hands on his pockets that were full of mud. His heart raced. He pushed harder against his right pocket and clearly felt the ring. He smiled and stood up to thank the people, but most had now walked on, searching for a place to fit in at the river’s edge. The young man, the first to help, turned back to wave good-bye.
“¡Gracias, joven, gracias!”
Sol waved back at the family.
THE RIVER MOTHER and Sol took the ring to Mr. Chou, the jeweler in Chinatown. Ever since the jeweler’s appraisal, the River Mother had stored the ring as part of her river treasures collection. Sol had gone to her and explained Albert’s intention to marry Louise and said that he wanted to buy the ring. The River Mother offered the ring to Albert as a wedding gift.
“I don’t want money. The ring is a gift para mi querida Louise from Our Lady of the River, Nuestra Señora
la Reina de Los Angeles del Río de la Porciúncula.”
It took days to finally agree on plans for the wedding. Albert had asked Louise to accept the precious diamond engagement ring. Sol agreed to be his best man. Louise asked Dame Marie to be her maid of honor, and Emily and Gloria were to be bridesmaids and witnesses. The girls were so excited about Albert and Louise getting married. Everyone and everything was ready for Albert to marry Louise. On the wedding morning the sun had a hard time burning away the low, thick marine layer that worked its way to the foothills. Drizzle covered the streets, houses, cars, every uncovered surface. Albert and Louise got up early and put on new clothes for their wedding day. Louise definitely showed her pregnant condition. Albert was nervous and could not eat the breakfast that Doña Luciana had prepared for them. Sol arrived dressed in a blue suit. Albert and Louise complimented him on how nice he looked. Sol tried not to show that such compliments embarrassed him. He just was not used to hearing such niceties addressed to him. He drank two cups of coffee, then a third, and wondered what was taking Albert and Louise so long to get umbrellas from their room. He waited a little longer, but nothing happened.
“We have an appointment at nine,” Sol called out loudly. “Por favor, Albert, vámonos ya. If you are late, I don’t think they’ll marry you.”
When Albert and Louise heard Sol’s insistent calls, they both froze seated on the side of their bed, thinking about what they were about to do. Every doubt and fear fell upon them in that instant. They did not have to say a word. They both knew what the other was thinking. They also understood they had to do the right thing for their baby. They stood up, held hands and walked directly to Sol’s truck.
In front of the Los Angeles City Hall at 200 North Spring, Albert and Louise, Dame Marie, Gloria, Emily and Sol contemplated the stairs leading up to the entrance of the tall obelisk building crowned by a pyramid. They bravely ascended, climbed the stairs to the second floor, where they searched for room 205B, to see the justice of the peace, a judge authorized by law to pronounce the civil ceremony of marriage. The couple and their entourage found the chambers empty. By 9:15 A.M. a man entered carrying a black robe that appeared to have been cleaned, and he was delivering it.
“Good morning,” the man sang out. “The sun is out bright and happy now.”
He walked through the chambers, entered a back room. After a short while the same man stuck his head out from behind the door.
“Who is getting married today?”
Albert and Louise and their group stood up and waved their hands. The man smiled and giggled, still leaning out from behind the door.
“That can’t be! There are too many women! Now, I repeat: Who is getting married this bright morning?”
Sol pushed Albert and Louise forward.
“We are, Mr. Judge, sir.”
“All right, now we got it. Just a moment, let me get my ledger! Be right back. Don’t you dare go.”
The judge went away and took his time getting back. His absence elevated the nervousness of the bride and groom. More than a half hour went by and the judge had not returned. The wedding party was becoming more concerned, when the judge’s head again appeared from behind the door.
“We’re all here now.”
He entered the chambers with a clerk and a guard. At the instant he approached, the couple’s every action, voice, thought, perception seemed to slow down. The movement of all present occurred in a slow motion that convoluted understanding. The judge welcomed all who accompanied Albert and Louise and gave his name in a grandiose manner. The sound of it floated in the air, filling every space in the echoing chamber. Albert and Louise followed the sound of his name, but failed to understand and remember it. Events moved slowly, making actions clear and sudden. Albert and Louise and the wedding entourage watched themselves participate in their marriage ceremony. It all unfolded peacefully with a magnificent unconditional love. Suddenly without feeling the rings, they appeared on Albert and Louise’s fingers.
“You may kiss your wife. Albert, come on, man, give your beautiful wife a kiss!”
The judge nudged the newlyweds together to make them kiss. He raised his hands above his head and applauded. The clerk and the guard encouraged Sol, Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily to join in the rejoicing.
“Now just sign my official record book. Both of you, of course, and I will give you your marriage certificate, with my signature, of course!”
Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily embraced each other, the guard, the clerk, Sol. They didn’t quite get to the judge, who waved goodbye from behind his office door.
“God bless you, children. Be off. Do good things for humanity and love and have a healthy and happy life.”
The judge closed the door. The clerk and the guard disappeared. Albert and Louise looked around, stunned that it was over so quickly. Sol went to the judge’s door. It was locked. Upon touching it, he got the sensation that it had never been opened.
After the ceremony they left the Los Angeles City Hall, still a little taken aback by what had happened and not happened during the civil marriage ritual in the justice of the peace chambers. Sol drove Albert and Louise, with the young ladies following in Dame Marie’s car, to dinner at the River Mother’s dwelling. After dinner, Sol described the strange courthouse ceremony and the curious judge who had married Albert and Louise. The River Mother heard the end of Sol’s explanation. “Dios mío! Sol, don’t you understand that two lives intertwined. This hardly happens. The judge is an ordinary man. If you see him tomorrow, he will seem like another person, a different man from the one you encountered today. Enough of these strange things. Let’s go eat.” Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily drove home happy that their sister Louise had married the man she loved. Sol chauffeured Albert and Louise back to their one-room apartment at Doña Luciana’s house. As Sol drove, he got the feeling that a truck and several cars had followed them to Simons. Who would follow them other than men Uncle Philip hired to watch them, Sol thought, looking into the rearview mirror?
IT DIDN’T MAKE much sense: the pain for so much joy. Her face twisted as if made of rubber from the effort and agony of pushing the baby out of her body all morning long. Louise had tensed and clenched and screamed in pain with mighty earthquake contractions that tightened every muscle in her body. Doña Luciana and four neighbors assisted her with the delivery of the baby. The shifting of the earth’s plates lasted minutes and more minutes and suddenly a little body was out into the arms of the old white-haired lady. Doña Luciana cut the cord and gave the baby to a woman who cleaned the blood and afterbirth as the infant gave out his first cries. Louise had given light to a boy, a perfect boy. The women made sure that Louise was stable, that she was not bleeding. They brought her water and brought the child to her. Louise held her newborn on her chest, wept, smiled, laughed. The women joined her in her laughter. So much effort and pain for so much joy. A sudden peace and silence fell on the women as they stood around mother and child, and shared in a woman’s magic power.
Louise continued to cry and express gratitude to Doña Luciana and the women who still worked around her, making sure that she and the baby were well. After Doña Luciana had wrapped the cord and the placenta in a leather pouch, she checked again to see if Louise had stopped bleeding. She opened the door and faced Sol, Emily, Gloria and Dame Marie, who waited with Albert. She begged them to enter. Albert saw the baby, and tears began to run down his face. He had never felt such happiness in his life. Life had begun again, and Louise had made it happen. Louise had given him a new earth, sun, day and night. She shifted the blanket away from the infant’s face.
“Look at our baby, Albert. Isn’t he beautiful?”
Albert stood, awed by both mother and child.
Louise lifted the baby toward him. One of the women placed the baby in Albert’s arms saying, “Ay, muchacho, don’t be afraid!”
Doña Luciana said, “¡Al niño grande le va dar un patatús! This big boy’s going to have a heart attack!” and the women laug
hed.
“Habla, muchacho, habla.” Doña Luciana patted him briskly on the back, asking him to say something.
“Gracias, Louise. I love you, Louise.” Albert held his baby while Louise observed her two men.
SOL, DAME MARIE and Louise’s two sisters had kept their parents apprised of the progress of the pregnancy. As long as Louise and Albert were in good health, they did not interfere. They were afraid that their intervention would push them away even farther. Their parents simply made sure their children had what they needed. Albert and Louise knew that they were safe. If they ever needed help, it was not far away. Uncle Philip visited his nephew, Ernest, more often as the birth came closer. Now, even in his presence, the girls talked openly about Albert and Louise. They referred to where they lived, whom they lived with and how they were doing. Emily and Gloria did not hold back their feelings about how happy they were for their sister, how happy they were that she had married the man she loved. In their way, the sisters let Philip know to leave Albert and Louise alone.
Still, Uncle Philip felt it his duty to continue to try to convince his nephew and wife that Albert and Louise’s relationship was not acceptable. Once the birth occurred, Uncle Philip expressed his anger as never before, assuring everyone that allowing this clandestine marriage to continue would certainly not erase the public disgrace suffered by Louise and the family. He accused Ernest and Allison of being hypocrites who had lost respect for the family and, above all, for him.
“Our family has now descended into the category of mongrel, the mixed-blood castes that the Spanish created by their fornication with the vile, low native races of the New World.” And raising his voice: “The castes are labels used to identify the subhuman products of interracial unions: horrible names like mulato, mestizo, zambo, and many others that I have heard at the Aryan Club. Don’t you understand how you’ve allowed our superior bloodline to be tainted? You have to do something about this situation, Ernest. You can’t allow this to go on!”
River of Angels Page 26
