Returning to her body after a binge was very irritating. The discomfort experienced during a hangover was infernal, and yet Lupita—for some unknown reason—enjoyed it. She accepted it as part of the recovery process. She saw it as a sort of rebirth.
LIGHT VS. DARKNESS
The creation of the sun by the hands of the gods was crucial to the birth and support of life. In antiquity it was believed that every day a battle between light and darkness took place in the sky. If the dark night were to triumph, humanity’s existence would be endangered. All living beings, as an active part of the Universe, had to recognize the movements of the heavens within their own bodies and become warriors of the light in the battle to defeat the dark. If the light were victorious in their internal struggle, the sun would be restored, because the fight between opposing forces in the sky was something that happened inside and out, above and below. Those who observed the movements in the sky and acknowledged they were part of the heavens became gods, became the reborn sun.
Every time Lupita got wasted part of her would disappear, and when Lupita was absent from herself she didn’t know where she was. There had to be a place where she existed while the alcohol wore off, but where was this? Were there two Lupitas? A sober Lupita and a drunk Lupita? In that case there had to be two minds: a sane mind and a demented mind that governed their respective Lupita. Could it be said that the sane mind sat on the bench resting while the other mind got drunk? Was that the reason why, upon sobering up, the sane mind had no memory of what the demented mind had ordered? Lupita didn’t know, but she was hopeful knowing that a part of her remained intact, unaware of the excesses in which her out-of-control body indulged. There was a Lupita who remained innocent and pure, a Lupita who wanted to be welcomed back into the world instead of being berated for drinking too much.
Lupita opened her eyes slowly and was surprised to see thousands of stars looking back. For an instant that heavenly spectacle took away her breath, but then a wave of pain washed over her entire body. The pain was so strong that she regretted coming back from wherever she had been. She felt the chill of early morning. She didn’t know where she was. The last thing she remembered was leaving the last of several cantinas she had visited, and stumbling upon a police operation clearing all the street vendors from Cuihtláhuac Park. Apparently the chief of police had ordered the arrest of the suspect based on the sketch from Lupita’s description of the suspect. In truth, the delegación authorities were using Lupita’s statement as an excuse to finally clear out the park so that the Passion procession would seem better organized and more flashy. The vendors, headed by Mami, had fought back violently against the police.
Earlier that day Lupita, instead of doing the Seven Churches Visitation, had taken a “seven cantinas tour” to ask the Crucified Christ to help her control her drinking. It sounds ridiculous, but it made sense to her at the time. Lupita had walked out of the seventh cantina and was on her way to the police station when she ran into the street vendors. She remembered facing Mami and shooting her a challenging look. But Lupita remembered nothing after that. Now here she was, beat up and lying in the middle of a field.
The blackout obscured everything that had happened between Lupita and Mami. It would take years for Lupita to remember that she had insulted and threatened Mami in front of everyone.
“Fucking Mami culera! You’re fucked now.”
“Are you talking to me, pendeja?”
“Yeah, or do you see any other Mami culera around here? Another thieving, corrupt, drug-pushing whore of a Mami?”
“You’re crossing the line, you fucking naca. It’s bad enough that you’re trying to pin the murder on one of my people, so shut your mouth and stop saying shit you can’t prove.”
“I can prove it all! You know what? I have proof in my phone that you run all the drug trade in Iztapalapa. What do you have to say about that, pendeja?”
Mami had answered with a punch that knocked Lupita to the floor, and she followed up with a few good kicks. At that point a melee ensued between street vendors and the police. Amid the chaos and the screaming no one noticed when Mami took an obsidian knife to the neck and started to bleed out. An ambulance rushed her to the hospital and someone dragged out Lupita and dumped her wherever the hell she was now.
The silence was absolute. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and cicadas. Lupita tried to get up but fell under her own weight. She tried to figure out where she was and failed at that as well, foiled by darkness. She searched for her phone in her bra. She always kept it there because she had been the victim of pickpockets in the subway before, and her huge tits hid it completely. Fortunately the phone was still on. She dialed Celia’s number. No one else came to mind.
“Lupita?”
“Yes.”
“Goddammit you scared the shit out of me!”
“Why?”
“Because no one has heard from you. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. It’s really dark.”
“Well, the sun will be out soon. Wait there and see if you recognize anything.”
Lupita was very moved by Celia’s reaction. She sounded very worried. Apparently she had gotten over her anger because she talked to Lupita like nothing had happened. What Lupita didn’t know was that Celia’s change in attitude was only because she had seen a news segment about the altercation between the police and the vendors, and caught a glimpse of Lupita being slammed over the head with a two-by-four by the guy who would play Dimas during the Passion procession. After she was struck, someone dragged the passed-out Lupita off screen, and that was the last Celia knew of her friend. Later in the evening Celia’s son Miguel had stopped by to visit and made her even more worried. Miguel was a waiter who worked for a catering service. The previous night Mami had hosted a party at her house and the catering service assigned Miguel to work the event. Waiters usually enjoy a certain degree of invisibility. They tend to be ignored, so they overhear all sorts of conversations and confidential information when they’re on the job. Mami had been hosting a dinner in honor of Hilario Gomez, who had just announced his intentions to run for delegado. This was Mami’s way of very publicly backing him.
At one point during the night Miguel overheard Mami and Gomez talking about recent affairs: “Listen Licenciado, I’m going to need you to help me out with my vendors. That sketch based on the cop’s statement—Lupita I think her name is—has already affected me enough. You know how Buenrostro is trying to use that as an excuse to kick us out of the park, right before the Passion. It’s when our sales are the highest. It’s not fair.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make a note of it.”
“I’m really counting on you for this. Maybe you can give that bitch cop a slap on the wrist so she learns some manners.”
“Again I tell you: don’t worry about it. We’re here to help.”
As Lupita lay face up on the dirt she remained in awe of the night sky even though her physical discomfort made her want to repent for all her sins. What could she have done to deserve this? Or better still, what had she not done? If she hadn’t gotten completely wasted the previous day she wouldn’t have overlooked all the obvious warning signs that pointed to an oncoming tragedy. Her mother had taught her to look out for them since she was little. Lupita knew that when the fire on the stove flickers, disgrace was looming. How could she not have noticed the fire fluttering when she heated her coffee pot that morning? She felt a line of ants pattering along her hand. That meant she was outside the city, and the ants’ hurried pace announced the coming of a storm. As if things couldn’t get worse! She tried to get up to vomit but one of her legs gave out and she fell. Her leg was surely broken, and from the pain in her side, probably a rib or two as well. Lupita tried to get back on her knees and her hand touched what seemed to be a body lying next to her. She was no longer able to contain her nausea and she vomited with great pain. When the heaving stopped she fell back on the dirt, invaded by terrible fear. If she was lying next to a
dead body it was because they had been disposed of together, and she was presumed dead. That meant her “rebirth” would present a threat to someone. When one person becomes a nuisance to another, it’s not uncommon for one of the parties to think, Why doesn’t this asshole just die already? Lupita had thought that many times. First about her stepfather. Then about her husband. Then about Mami. It was useless to dwell on it. The point was someone wanted her dead and thought they had accomplished it. Why? What threat did she pose? What could she get in the way of? Who would benefit from her death? It had to somehow involve the delegado’s murder. Other than that, she had no clue. Well, if she were to be honest, Hilario Gomez was probably still furious about Lupita airing out his secrets in front of everyone. She still didn’t think it was that big of a deal. What threat could she pose to him now that everyone knew he regularly got his back waxed?
TEZCATLIPOCA VS. QUETZALCÓATL
The gods Tezcatlipoca (“Smoking Mirror”) along with his brother Quetzalcóatl (“Feathered Serpent”) were two of the most important deities in the Aztecs’ creation myths. Tezcatlipoca harbored a rivalry with his brother Quetzalcóatl over important differences in philosophy. Quetzalcóatl was opposed to human sacrifice, and Tezcatlipoca believed that it was necessary to sustain the sun and therefore life. One time, Tezcatlipoca disguised himself as an old man and offered his brother pulque, the sacred drink. Quetzalcóatl took the bait and got drunk. In that altered state he broke all the laws he had set for his people, and even fornicated with his own sister. Shamed by his actions he exiled himself from the city he had founded. He walked east, toward the rising sun. When he reached the ocean he embarked on a vessel and sailed until he reached the sun in the horizon. There, where the sky meets the water, he fused with the sun, recovered his light, and became Venus, the Morning Star: he who makes a path for the sun to be reborn from the dark every day. After the conquest, friars decorated all figures of Quetzalcóatl with Christian symbols.
Lupita didn’t notice when she stopped being alone, or how she could see clearly in absolute darkness, but she found herself in the presence of several warriors belonging to the native culture of Iztapalapa. They were dressed in animal skins and wore headdresses ornamented with regal feathers. One of them held an ornate staff and stared deeply at Lupita. They were all sad and angry. For a second she thought she might be hallucinating. Not even under the effects of peyote had she ever had such a clear vision. None of the warriors could speak because their lips were held shut by cactus thorns but Lupita could feel their words inside her head. The warriors said they were very angry. They had been ordered to surrender to the Spaniards and they had obeyed. They were told that these intruders were representatives of the god Quetzalcóatl. They never agreed with the emperor Moctezuma, but they respected his wishes. Now their grieving souls roamed aimlessly because they were unable to defend their children, their women, and their race. They knew that Cortés and his soldiers would never understand their culture so they sealed their lips to ensure that none of their people’s secrets and wisdom would ever escape them. They chose eternal silence. Lupita heard the faint sound of war drums beating in unison, rising in volume. She felt that her temples would burst from the pounding. Her entire body began to pulsate to the beat. She heard chanting in Náhuatl and many voices saying, “It’s time to speak, it’s time to heal. Listen to our tongue, the words of our ancestors are vessels that contain the knowledge of the sky, they are plants that heal the soul. Heed them. Let the sun into your heart, the sun shall once more be reborn for everyone and you must be there to help. The crystal chose you. Don’t be afraid, the toad will guide you.”
Lupita shut her eyes tight and covered her ears. Fuck! What drug had she taken? She thought she was losing her mind. She had heard legends before, of people seeing the spirits of ancient warriors at a place in Iztapalapa, but she never believed them. Yet there she was, seeing, hearing, her heart racing.
Fortunately, the first rays of sunlight began to cast light on her surroundings and Lupita slowly returned to reality. The native chanting slowly faded into a church choir that sang a poem by Saint Theresa: “The soul is made of crystal, a luminous castle, an oriental pearl, a royal palace with immense chambers to inhabit.” Lupita got her breathing under control and tried to focus her vision. The voices went away. The early morning sun was very powerful. Lupita would have given anything for a pair of sunglasses. Her tremendous hangover prevented her from adapting to the sunlight. Through squinted eyes Lupita observed the landscape. She was in the middle of an open field near Eagle’s Cave, a cavern near the top of Star Hill. She immediately sent Celia her location.
As she waited for her friend, she observed the man that lay next to her and immediately understood why someone wanted her dead. The body’s features matched the description she had given of the man suspected of murdering the delegado. Her colleagues surely planned on “solving” the murder with the discovery of this man’s body, along with Lupita’s. They would explain it as revenge between drug mafias and would very likely portray Lupita as a crooked cop who was involved. The judicial power always found someone to pay for a crime but wasn’t interested in finding the actual perpetrator. In order to pull this off they resorted to sublimely imaginative solutions.
If years before they had been able to assure the population that the murder of a presidential candidate had been the work of a lone gunman even though the victim received more than two gunshots of different calibers and from different directions, this cover-up was a piece of cake!
Celia, who arrived to retrieve Lupita in the middle of a heavy rainfall, confirmed all of her suspicions. She immediately got Lupita up to speed as she and Miguel lifted her into the backseat of the car. Celia spared no detail in explaining how Mami received the same wound as the delegado. Things were getting murky. The media was now pointing at Lupita as the author of both crimes, because she was the only person who could be placed at both scenes, the first resulting in murder and the second leaving Mami on the brink of death. A warrant had been put out for Lupita’s arrest.
“What do we do now, mana? You need to be seen by a doctor. Where do you want us to take you?”
“We can’t go to a hospital. Take me to an AA center. My identity will be kept secret there.”
“Yeah and you could use some time . . .”
“Stop Celia, I can’t take your sermons right now and I swear by this,” Lupita said, forming a cross with her fingers. “I want to get better without you being on my ass about it.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Fine. Just lay back and try to rest.”
Celia started the car and began the drive back. On the road they passed Hilario Gomez’s car. The former chief advisor was accompanied by a distinguished group of corrupt reporters who would very likely break the news of the discovery of the bodies linked to the delegado’s murder. Both Celia and Gomez pretended to not see each other. Neither one waved to the other. Celia had not forgiven her salon being shut down, and Hilario had not forgiven Celia for revealing his personal hygiene secrets.
When Hilario arrived at the place where both bodies had been dumped and found only one, he immediately suspected Celia. A dead woman doesn’t just get up and leave by herself.
On the other hand, it was clear to Celia that Hilario had been involved in the death of the man who was lying next to Lupita, as well as the aggression toward her friend.
LUPITA LIKED SOLITUDE AND SILENCE
It took her years to accept it but she really liked to be alone with her thoughts. The day she had begun her prison sentence for killing her son, the world of sounds familiar to her stayed outside the gates. A dense fog of silent fear invaded her ears. It was a fear that chilled to her core, a fear that gave her an itch in her urethra, a fear that crushed her chest. And now, after being dropped off by Celia at the rehab facility, Lupita felt the same way. The dry sound of the door closing behind her announced the arrival of silence. From her own experience she knew that when the voices of parents, the laughter of chil
dren, and the whispers of lovers are silenced by the walls of institutions, one’s ears immediately search for new vibrations in the air and tune in to new sounds. In stillness one can discover that silence is not silence, and that sound—as a vibration—travels, flies, crosses walls, flows through fences, expands like the beating of a heart, like a constant and ever present pulse.
It had taken Lupita many years of imprisonment to discover that she could hear better in silence, and that she was in better company when she was alone. One is never truly alone, even when our only company is our thoughts, because what are thoughts if not the memory of interactions with others? In silence, Lupita reconnected with the most important people in her life. She carefully took the loose threads of her soul and knit them back together with her loved ones’, so they would never be separated again. She connected with a forgotten pulse, with a primal rhythm. It was in prison where Lupita first heard her heartbeat. During her sleepless nights she had even counted how many times her heart beat between sunset and sunrise, experiencing the passing of time within herself.
Now once more she needed time to herself. Quiet. Silence. To recover the Lupita that once was, the Lupita she couldn’t even remember anymore. Sometimes she felt like a piece of luggage left behind at an airport, a suitcase full of surprises that no one could see in plain sight. A suitcase that had inside it an entire life’s history but would go by unnoticed if its owner—who held the key to its secrets—never found it. She was both the suitcase and the owner. She had to bring these dual aspects of herself together in order to emerge from darkness. And she needed to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Pierced by the Sun Page 6
