Outside the Gates of Eden

by Lewis Shiner

  After brunch, Alex’s mother left to go shopping and Alex stayed behind with his father, his heart swelling with love in a way that it hadn’t in years. «What are you thinking, Papa?» he asked. «You seem down.»

  His father sighed and then, reluctantly, said, «Jesús was only two years older than me.»

  «He also took really bad care of himself.»

  «It’s not like I go to the gym and work out. Sooner or later it’s going to be me in that coffin, and what happens to my business then?»

  The only problem with his father’s second-in-command was that he wasn’t named Alex Montoya. «Fred will take over and he’ll be happy that he doesn’t have to fight you anymore whenever he wants to modernize something.»

  His father managed a sad smile. «You know me. Social liberal, financial conservative.»

  The excuse had annoyed Alex down through the years. «Maybe it’s time to let that go. The Internet is going to change everything. These online services like CompuServe and Prodigy—have you seen them? You can play games, you can buy things with your credit card, you can send instant messages to your friends, show your photographs, send files, all over your phone line in your own home. It’s like… it’s power in the hands of the people, like we used to talk about in the sixties. People will be able to vote directly on issues and we’ll cut out the politicians. Everyone can be an author and a publisher or make records and be their own record company. Now that we’re on an information economy, anybody with a computer will be able to work at home, and everybody will have a computer because they’re so cheap. The government may even give them away.»

  His father shook his head. «Can you drink a beer over the Internet?»

  “You’ll be able to order a case of beer in the morning and have it delivered that afternoon. And that night you can have a video conference call and drink it with friends anywhere in the world. There’s more money to be made from this than you can imagine. All you have to do is put a bucket under the tap.»

  «I wouldn’t have the first idea how to do that.»

  As an attempt to cheer his father up, the conversation was failing badly. In desperation, Alex started to throw out some of the half-baked ideas that he hadn’t yet shared with anybody, stuff he’d been brooding about for months. «I can help you. We can start a new company, you and me. I’ve got a dozen ideas, mostly to do with music. The first thing we need is a way to compress digital music files the way gifs compress pictures. Then I have this idea for an internet music service where you don’t have to own physical albums or cds anymore, you just pay a subscription fee and you can listen to any song you want, any time you want. You should be able to have a recording studio on the Internet where the individual band members can be anywhere in the world, and they can still make records together. I’ve got other ideas, but you can see how one project feeds off the next, and all that has to happen is for any one of them to take off.»

  At last Alex saw that his father’s mind had engaged. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. «We could share the legal and accounting departments with the import business, spread the expenses around, pick up some tax credits. How many people would you need to start with?»

  The longer Alex talked, the more he started to believe it himself. His father took notes on napkins and after an hour of fevered discussion he smiled and ordered two bottles of Bohemia. «Do you have a name for this company?»

  «I was thinking maybe… Mariachi.»

  *

  The funeral service was in La Catedral de San Diego, where Susan’s first wedding had been. Cole couldn’t stop noticing the contrasts. Susan then, in white and barely functional, and Susan now, in black and hanging on his arm. Jesús then, playing for the ceremony with Cole and Alex, and Jesús now, in a box, and Cole and Alex lost in the crush. The artificial happiness then and the genuine sorrow now.

  «There’s Papa,» Susan said, and ran ahead to talk to him.

  Cole stood apart from the Montoyas and wondered how long his relationship with Susan would continue to make things awkward. As if in answer, Alex wandered over. «Nice suit,» he said. «Looks new.»

  Susan was out of earshot. «I understand Susan’s ex is footing the bill.»

  «Not likely. Mac McKinney has a motion before the judge in Savannah to try and pry some money out of him. He cut her off when she left.»

  «Then what’s she living on?»

  Alex glanced at his father. «What do you think?»

  «Mierda,» Cole said.

  «Don’t say I didn’t warn you,» Alex said, and turned away.

  Cole trailed the procession, Susan falling back to walk with him. Inside, Félix sat where Cole had sat for Susan’s wedding, playing a Bach fugue. They filed into a pew at the front where Leticia’s sister had taken the aisle seat. Alex first, then his father, his mother, Susan, and Cole. Cole felt like Pluto, orbiting in the outer darkness.

  The Mass went on endlessly, less enchanting than his first Christmas Eve there, but still affecting. Between the might of the organ and the delicacy of Félix’s guitar, the quiet sobs of the women and the forceful solemnity of the priest, everything drove home the finality of Jesús’s death in a way, Cole saw, that was meant to let them all be done with it and move on.

  Two hours later they emerged blinking into daylight. They walked in formation through the pedestrian-only streets to the cul-de-sac where limos waited to take them to the graveyard.

  The Municipal Cemetery in Guanajuato was so full that, as late as the 1950s, the city was still evicting the corpses of families that had only paid for a “temporary” interment and was reusing the space. The unearthed bodies, which had mummified due to the chemistry and aridity of the soil, ended up in a museum for the tourists. Jesús, on the other hand, was headed for a permanent grave in the new cemetery near the Plaza de Toros.

  The sun had started to bear down and Cole’s new white shirt wilted in the heat. More incense, more praying. Finally the casket went in the ground. Alex and his father were among those who threw a shovelful of dirt into the hole, and Cole was not. It shouldn’t have mattered to him, and yet it did.

  Afterward Álvaro and his narco friend Miguel Ortiz came up to give Cole an abrazo, and Álvaro said, «Have you thought about my offer?»

  Cole needed a second to remember. Playing guitar for los narcos. «Still thinking,» Cole said with a smile.

  «Nice suit,» Álvaro said, rubbing the lapel between thumb and forefinger. «Everybody deserves some nice things now and then, no?»

  «I guess,» Cole said, «that would depend on the price.»

  Álvaro’s laugh was harsh and out of place. He and Ortiz moved on. Alex greeted them with a neutral expression and his father failed to hide his disapproval.

  The Montoyas had arranged a buffet at the hotel. At some point during the evening Cole and Susan ended up standing with Montoya and Alex. «Your friend Álvaro,» Montoya said to Alex, «he’s a narco now?»

  «Why do you say that?» Alex shouldn’t try to bluff, Cole thought, if he couldn’t do a better job.

  «Please,» his father said. «The gold, the arrogant attitude, the ostrich cowboy boots…»

  «He’s still a good guy,» Alex said. «We just can’t talk business, that’s all.»

  «Business?» Montoya said. «What kind of business uses automatic weapons? They have better guns than the police.»

  «Papa, they are the police,» Alex said. «Raúl Salinas has his hands in every drug deal in Mexico.» Raúl was the brother of Mexican president Carlos Salinas, and Cole was shocked by Alex’s cynicism.

  «What’s going to become of this country?» Montoya said.

  «It’s only going to get worse,» Alex said. «It’s capitalism to the limit. Why not just kill your business rivals? It’s cheaper than trying to undercut their profits. Why pay taxes when you can own your own government officials?»

  Montoya, showing more frustration and disappointment than Cole was used to seeing from him, turned to Cole. «Where do you know th
em from?»

  «I met Álvaro the first time I came to Guanajuato with you.»

  «I worry about you, both of you,» Montoya said. «These are very dangerous men.»

  «Cole knows better than to get involved,» Alex said.

  Cole had Desi Arnaz in his head, and Desi was singing, “Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.”

  *

  Ava had to give her mom credit. Once she said she would do something, she was good for it. The first week in August, they flew from SeaTac to dfw, where they stayed overnight with Grandpa and Grandma and dropped Ethan off for the duration.

  “What about Cole’s parents?” Ava asked. “Aren’t they here in Dallas too?”

  “One thing at a time,” Madelyn said. It turned out Madelyn had never met Cole’s father, that’s how bad it was between Cole and him.

  Ethan, who didn’t usually make a fuss, was weepy pretty much from the time the plane hit the ground in Dallas. Her mom kept saying the wrong things, telling him how hot it was down there and how the food would make him sick. Finally Ava sat him down and explained why this was important to her and that she needed to know he was okay while she did it. He said it was okay, and that was that. She hated it that at 8 years old he had such a highly developed sense of self-sacrifice.

  The next day she and Madelyn flew into León, because Guanajuato didn’t have its own airport, and stuff started to get interesting. Ava had never been out of the US before, except once when they went to Vancouver for summer vacation, and that didn’t really count because they spoke English and everything. Anyway, even before they got out of the airport, Ava realized that she’d had premonitions or clues all along. Like insisting on taking Spanish for her language classes instead of French, like her mom wanted her to. The way she’d always loved tacos and burritos and the way she perked up when Santana came on the radio. Madelyn said Cole was like that, that he should have been born in Latin America.

  Ava tried out her Spanish on the guy at Customs, la aduana, who ended up being super-nice, so after that she was «gracias» and «con permiso» all the way to the big glass doors at the entrance, and it felt in a weird way like she was coming home.

  Then she saw Cole. There was no mistaking him. He was leaning against a wall by the entrance, with a Mexican guy and a woman who looked Mexican and who Ava understood to be Alex’s sister Susan. Cole was in faded jeans and a clean white T-shirt, hair in a short ponytail, looking older, duh, than the few photos her mom had of him. He looked so nervous that she hoped a car didn’t backfire in the street or anything.

  Cole pushed off the wall and held out his hand. “Hey, Ava. Long time no see.”

  «Fifteen years,» Ava said in Spanish. «More or less.» They shook, and Cole held on.

  «I believe you’re right. How was the flight?»

  «Boring. Best kind, no?» Cole was grinning at her and Ava was grinning back.

  “Okay, you two,” Madelyn said. “Mom’s Spanish isn’t up to this. Let’s keep it in English.”

  Cole introduced everybody. The Mexican guy was a guitar player named Félix who was Cole’s “primo” and whose main reason for being there seemed to be that he had a car. Susan was checking Madelyn out pretty aggressively. “How do you do it?” Susan said. “I swear you look the same as the last time I saw you, which must be what, 1969?” She had on too much makeup and way too much perfume. Madelyn had warned her that Cole and Susan were an item now, and as far as Ava could tell he had traded down in comparison to her mom, who was, no matter how you sliced it, really beautiful, whereas Susan looked about ten years older than Cole and maybe was on drugs or boozing it or something.

  “You’re much too kind,” Madelyn said. “You’re looking good yourself.” This was apparently one of those Texas customs she had tried to explain, where outrageous lies were suddenly okay.

  Susan put her arm around Cole’s waist and said, “Nothing like being in love to keep you young.” That so totally embarrassed everyone except Susan that Ava began to count the seconds of silence.

  Before she got to ten, Félix reached for one of their suitcases. “The car is very nearby,” he said in pretty good English.

  The car turned out to be a thrashed Dodge from the late seventies. They’d barely gotten the luggage in the trunk when Susan lit up a cigarette and Madelyn asked her, very nicely, to put it out because she was allergic. Susan made a face and moved downwind, where she proceeded to toke up on nicotine for a couple of minutes while the rest of them waited.

  Cole and Madelyn were awkward as hell around each other, her asking about the weather and how long was the drive to Guanajuato, stuff she’d already looked up back in Moscow, and he asked about the flight, which he’d already asked Ava about. Félix looked at his shoes and tossed his car keys from one hand to the other.

  Finally Susan got in the front with Félix and Ava ended up in the back between Cole and Madelyn. Cole smelled of deodorant and soap and clean clothes, not at all unpleasant, but it was weird to be aware of your father’s smell. He had a lean, muscular body and a kind of cocky way of holding himself. Ava wondered how much she looked like him, because he was attractive in a way that might work for her. Cole got Madelyn talking about the new book she wanted to write, which meant conversation was covered for at least the next half hour.

  Once they were through the tunnel and into Guanajuato, they drove to a restaurant called Mexico Lindo y Sabroso, which was pretty fancy, with lots of shiny tile and palms in big orange pots. There was a lot of stuff on the menu she’d never heard of, which Cole explained to her. Madelyn and Susan split a bottle of expensive white wine, with Susan doing most of the work and Cole and Félix drinking bottled water. After dinner a second bottle of wine arrived. Susan didn’t act drunk, exactly, but she got more and more assertive, and she kept talking about what a great singer and guitar player Cole was and how happy they were when nobody was asking.

  At the end there was a three-way fight for the check between Cole and Susan and Madelyn, and Susan seemed seriously pissed off when Cole won. They stopped off at the hotel long enough to get Madelyn checked in, and then she wanted to see Cole’s apartment, which meant going down into the tunnels under the center of town, which was the coolest thing yet.

  The apartment was pretty nice, up on a hillside, wood floors and lots of windows. Cole had rented a bed for Ava and set it up in the living room and made it with clean sheets and everything. Madelyn made a face and said, “It smells smoky in here.”

  Cole opened a couple of windows and said, “Susan won’t smoke in the apartment as long as Ava’s staying here.”

  Madelyn was a little tipsy, which tended to make her giggly, which made it difficult for her to continue to be a hard-ass. She put both hands on Ava’s shoulders and said, “Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t forget,” Ava said, rolling her eyes. Madelyn had made her promise that if she wanted out of the deal she would use a code phrase, “tastes like licorice,” on the phone, and her mom would “swoop down like the Erinyes on Orestes,” Erinyes being her fancy name for the Furies, because she was never one for doing things the easy way.

  Another thing Ava liked was the way men hugged each other in Mexico. Cole hugged Félix and thanked him some more, and then Félix left with Madelyn.

  “Uh, can I use the bathroom?” Ava asked.

  “Down the hall,” Cole said. “You know not to drink the water, or even rinse your mouth with it, right? If you want to brush your teeth, use the drinking water out of the dispenser in the kitchen.”

  “Okay.”

  When she came out of the bathroom she heard Susan’s voice in an angry whisper. “… nothing but good things to say about you all night and you had nothing to say in return.”

  Cole said, “I feel like you keep springing tests on me that I keep failing.”

  “Well, I don’t. And it’s a good thing, because you are failing them.”

  Ava went into the kitchen and made some noise getting a glass of water. The living room went quiet, and when s
he came out of the kitchen, Susan had taken out a cigarette and lit up.

  “Look,” Cole said, “I promised Madelyn…”

  “I didn’t. And you didn’t ask me.”

  “Please put it out,” Cole said.

  “One cigarette is not going to make any difference at this point.”

  Cole walked up to her and snatched the lit cigarette out of her hand and threw it out the window. It happened so fast that Ava and Susan were both stunned. Susan reached into her purse and came out with a pack of Kools. Her hands trembled and she didn’t look too steady on her feet. She started to shake out another cigarette, and like a flash, Cole grabbed the whole pack and threw that out the window too.

  “Ow,” Susan said, clutching her hand as if he’d seriously hurt her, which was pretty unlikely.

  Cole just stood there and stared at her. He was taking deep breaths, and they sounded a little shaky too.

  “Fine,” she said. “Either you can go get my cigarettes, or I will. If I go, I won’t be coming back.”

  Cole folded his arms. “See ya.”

  She turned around too fast and wobbled for a second, then went out and slammed the door.

  “Holy cow,” Ava said. “What got up her butt?”

  “Long story,” Cole said. “She’s spent her whole life thinking nobody wanted her for who she really was. So she’s always trying to act like she doesn’t care. Habits like that, the way you think of yourself, that can be hard to shake. Also tonight she’s jealous.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “I’ve got some cokes and beer in the fridge, and plenty of mineral water. You want something?”

  “A beer would be cool,” Ava said, putting the water on the coffee table and perching on the edge of her bed. “What’s she jealous about?”

  From the kitchen Cole said, “She thinks I’m still in love with your mother.”

  Ava felt a tightness in her throat. “Are you?”

  Cole handed Ava something called a Bohemia and then he swigged from a clear bottle with a mountain on it. “I’ve been in love with Susan Montoya since I was fifteen. You should have seen her back then. She was always like this unattainable goddess to me.” Cole sat in an overstuffed armchair, scrunched low in the seat, his feet up on an ottoman. It was exactly the way Ava sat when her mother wasn’t around to make her stop.