Nancy, p.6
Nancy, page 6
× I managed to go maybe five times before papá realized I was spending all afternoon out of the house × × × His suspicion was confirmed when he got home a couple of hours early from work and found tío Aarón alone in front of the screen × × What’s more, in my absence tío had been on the bottle again × The house didn’t function without me, so it was only a matter of time, really, until he figured it out × That night I got back at half past nine, happy, a bit of cash in my pocket, but sober, because I never tried anything they offered us, not even a beer × My papá took one look at me and understood. I don’t know how, but he understood × I went over to say hi, still breathless from the afternoon, acting all innocent × As I went over I saw his eyes moisten: he ran to the bathroom and locked himself in × × I cooked some spaghetti, laid the table, and went to bed × In the middle of the night the door opened and papá santo stuck his head around the door, his soul eating him alive, and said that tomorrow I was out on the street × And so it was.
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After four days of living with mamá mala I realized that Manuel was so attracted to me that if I didn’t get out of there quick I’d be in deep shit × I was embarrassed because I hadn’t done anything, quite the opposite: despite the heat I’d covered myself up completely, except for my hands and from the neck up × × I read the Bible and worked twice as hard as when we all lived together in Ch ×
One day when I’d been sent into town to buy beer and meat someone called my name × I turned around and there was Sandra × Thin, bags under her eyes × She peeled off from a group of girls gathered behind a car down an alleyway, and ran to hug me × × × I bought her a popsicle and we talked
× × I thought they had you locked up, amiga, I said to her. Sandra said that in theory they did, but that juvie had its own rules.
× You can go out in the morning but you gotta be back before eight at night if you don’t want to end up without a bed × And no bed means you don’t get any sleep at all. Though really everyone shares two or three to a bed anyway, and even then there aren’t enough × × Ending up without a bed is the worst × Also, you gotta bring some cash back × The guards are nasty old men, silent but sick in the head ×
Most inmates smoke basuco or rock, some sniff glue or benzene ×
Others whatever they can find × The guards bring in the basuco themselves × To earn money we set ourselves up here in these alleys, where we’re not far from the dormitory building, and take care of whoever comes asking. Though mostly it’s just guards or miserable old truck drivers.
Sandra was licking her Trululú very calmly, almost happily I’d say × But when I asked her about Pato her face cracked. Brow hardened. She smiled at me without smiling. She was missing one of her front teeth. Her lips tightened and I saw how all her skin followed suit ×
That motherfucker left us all alone. I don’t want to talk about Patito × × I replied that I understood she was upset, it was eating me up inside too, but I needed to know details: My parents told me nothing, Sandra. I found out from Camila × × × × Details about what though? And what for? We’ll never know what really happened to him. God knows what he was mixed up in, Nancy, she said. A couple of drops of Trululú were now running down her hand, dripping onto her leg. I knew she was right and hugged her. We cried × What more was there to do? × We talked about the good old days in Ch and the people we loved. Naturally we got onto the topic of the gringos. She asked me what they smelled like. I replied that there were a lot of smells: watermelon rind, fruit in the mouth, tobacco, armpits, booze, marijuana × But that for me there was one base smell that kept all the others in circulation: a mixture of farmyards and salt mines × × × Anyone worth your time? × I replied that the group was always different, but that the last couple of times there were at least two or three younger guys × × × One of these was Tim, though I didn’t know it yet. He was super quiet, paying more attention to the camera and the beach than anything else: tall, a ready smile, drooping eyebrows, and no exhibitionism or drugs, though he drank and swam a lot. While we splashed around with some fat guy we watched him play the same games we used to on the wreck, then disappear in a series of perfect strokes till he was just a speck floating on the sea. One time he came back just as the sun was setting, and in that moment I am certain every one of us thought he was the most beautiful man in the world × Another time he didn’t come back at all × His friends weren’t even worried × × × × × It was things like that that revealed how utterly cold they were. I felt surrounded by icicles × As for Jesulé, I didn’t even mention him to her, perhaps as a form of revenge, though it was only revenge by way of indifference × × × We had nothing more to say to each other × I remembered the beer and the meat, to keep Manuel in his sizeable belly, and ran off, promising I’d be back ×× Sandra gave me a look like a wild dog, happy and sad at the same time, doubting me ×
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We never saw each other again, because I ran away the following morning after a heated argument between mamá and Manuel × Arguing’s one way of putting it anyway. The miner was quick with his fists and short-tempered, so when my mamá started yelling he just beat the shit out of her with his bare hands × × At the first dry thumps, I poked my head around the door, holding my breath, my eyes very wide, and saw my mamá on the bed, sprawled on her belly. Her mouth was almost dislocating it was open so wide, but no sound came out. Manuel was meting out blows without seeing where they fell, her back or her buttocks or her legs. His gaze moved between the nape of his woman’s neck and the door × × × I stayed long enough to witness a couple more blows, paralyzed, then went back to the sofa. Since there was no bolt on the door, I closed my eyes and repeated all the prayers I could remember until I fell asleep ×
The next morning the miner was in the kitchen drinking wine from a blue tin mug × Your mother’s sick, he said, so you’ll be looking after the house today × I stared at the floor, at my bare feet balancing on the splintered floorboards, and said:
Ah
× × × Rancheras were playing on the radio. Outside the old ladies were heading to mass ×× Swollen legs barely contained inside multiple pairs of tights. Withered flesh × Flies starting to zip around the kitchen × Manuel’s heavy breathing × The wine-crust on his swollen lips × × Go and get us some eggs and bread for breakfast, and a bottle of rum and three liters of Coke, he said, leaving a ten-luca note on the table × He stretched and went out into the courtyard for a piss ×
I spent the money on the first bus back to Ch and ran straight home × My tío wasn’t there, but this didn’t seem to have stopped papá santo from dirtying everything in sight × I took a shower and cleaned. That night, when the Pastor stuck his head around the door, he made a face like he thought he’d gone back in time × I was reading the Gospel on the sofa in the living room × I looked at him with joy and love and ran to hug him × We cried and told each other everything × × I asked for his infinite forgiveness as I buried my face in his belly
× And so my father’s curse came to an end, and for a while we went back to being happy
And it shall be, when he lieth down, that thou shalt mark the place where he shall lie, and thou shalt go in, and uncover his feet, and lay thee down; and he will tell thee what thou shalt do. And she said unto her, All that thou sayest unto me I will do.
Ruth 3:4–5
Once I was back we realized we could no longer be apart × Tío Aarón had left one day without warning, with nothing but the clothes on his back, and since then my old man’s only companions had been his calculation templates, the Latter Day Saints, the Word, and a bit of TV.
× × × I decided to become exactly the woman papá santo needed, the perfect daughter, a fitting complement for his love of the Word × I studied the Old Testament, the Pauline epistles, and the Book of Mormon with a feigned interest that soon turned into actual enthusiasm × I was so happy I wasn’t even thinking about Sandra, or Jesulé, or even Pato × Every time papá got home from work and found me reading, the table laid and the house clean, he said, looking emotional: There she is, my Every Day Saint × Sure, the calm was maintained by a troubling silence × One day papá santo said to me, as though he knew perfectly well that something had to be said: There are things it’s better to erase from your mind, mijita. This world is a desert of crosses. You just have to keep your head down, have Faith, be happy ×× Arm yourself like the Lion of Judah, walk calmly, without fear of pain or of making mistakes, until the Son decides: enough, enough now ×
×× It was such a pretty speech that I asked if I could visit the Church of the Saints as soon as possible × I don’t think you can if you haven’t been baptized, he answered, but if you’re really interested, for starters Sister Ruth can give you a tour of the temple ×
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× And so there we were: Sister Ruth and I. No images. Bare white walls, some flower pots, plenty of space and light × She said: Questions after the video × She pointed to a door to our right and in we went × × I sat down, accepted a glass of water, and spent the next twenty minutes learning about Joseph Smith × When it finished I couldn’t think of any questions and so we looked at each other in silence × × × × × × × Then she invited me into the only other place the unbaptized were allowed to visit: she opened an immense door and we looked at a painting of Joseph Smith in the middle of a forest, facing away from us, kneeling in front of the Father and the Son who were looking out from among the clouds and light:
not a revelation, The Revelation ×
Before I left Sister Ruth said: Come back whenever you like, Nancy. But come calmly ××××××
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× × × I went home tired and happy. Papá santo hugged me and continued in his private trance, less excited than I thought he’d be ×
I’m proud of you, hija, I wanted to hear.
But all I got was the calm and certainty of another day on this earth. And so on until we die × × × × × A universe with space for both Sandra and Ruth, both Tim and Jesulé, Noah’s Ark and the boat at Playa Roja, my tío and the Minister, the dogs and the clouds, cactus forests and the tendons of drug mules × × ×
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It’s not that the gringos left one day, but rather that they simply never came back. At first we thought they’d gotten bored, though Tim later told me the main actor in their troupe had been possessed by a kind of miraculous energy and determination to work, so the rhythm of the team transformed: they went from wandering around in sad circles in the desert to racing against the clock, thanking their lucky stars every day that the actor’s good humor remained undiminished × × One day he went completely to pieces, and the gringos brought him a couple of girls to ease his mood × × Tim told me this and it was horrible: horrible because I never knew, horrible because one of those girls committed suicide a couple of years later, horrible because no one, including my gringo, did anything.
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For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet. And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient
Romans 1:26–28
One twelfth of October my papá was let go from the department store where he did the books × When I got home from school he was sitting at the table in the dining room with the Bible open in front of him, his eyes wandering. He had both palms pressed down on the wooden surface, his mouth half-open, lip trembling under his moustache × × I left my backpack on the floor and walked over in silence. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and stood expectantly. From the kitchen there came a familiar whistle. Through the open door I saw a hand holding a mug, then an old shoe, and finally the rest of tío Aarón: his T-shirt all grubby and ripped at the collar, the back of his neck red and peeling. He offered a smile, though he didn’t dare hug me. Papá looked at me and said, dryly, pressing his lips together: I’ve been laid off × My tío would tell me later that he’d gone to see his brother at the accountant’s office. I thought: That wretch is gonna bring the whole family down, he’s a leech, disgracing everyone around him. But I was wrong: Aarón had rescued his brother, who when he arrived was already wandering through the aisles of toys, lost to himself, chewing over the news ×
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So what do we do now? I asked him that night, as I was dozing off next to him on the bed. Tomorrow I’ll look for another job, he replied × × ×
× I was left listening to his snores. Beneath them, fear of dark corners with their spiders and muffled roars that possess you like an electric shock from the ankles to the top of your head and, embracing you, whisper:
We will never leave you ×
Never ×
Your father will die, will crumble into ash, and you will wander through the desert like a wound turned into a flower ×
And so it was × × × × ×
I understood that part of papá santo’s anxiety was down to the fact our savings were slowly running out × There were no more gringos to go to for handouts × I’d get home from school, see papá santo and my tío, and the two of them would smile, barely registering my presence × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × They showed me their teeth in an expression that tried to be reassuring ×× I said hello, hiding my sadness, and went up to lie on the bed: giving myself over to the physical activity of enduring the heat, and nothing else × × × × Hunger × × × × Sometimes, in my lowest moments, I managed to swallow my pride and be nice at school × × Over the course of a break, maybe two or even three, I’d talk nonstop to girls in my class whom I’d never spoken to before ××× All so someone would invite me over for an after-school snack × Anything for a piece of bread and jam and a cup of tea × × × × × × Or else I’d go down to the sea and sit there watching the dogs × × × They used to run around near the water and bark at the seagulls, who would respond by circling above them, laughing madly × × × × When the sun started to set, a sort of peace would settle over the coastline, and some of the dogs would come over to me, wet, tongues lolling, kindly and curious × × × × × × × I’d talk to them about Pato, letting threads of sand trickle out from closed fists onto my legs × ×
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I thought the year would see itself out according to that unbearable routine × × ×
× × × But in the last week of classes Sandra’s little sister came up to me during a break and whispered in my ear:
Your papá’s a queer.
She went off with her friends and left me there × × From then on I decided to watch him on my days off× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × It didn’t take long before Sandra’s sister’s comment began to make sense × × His behavior had become suspicious: some week nights papá went out and didn’t come back until late × × × × × At first I thought he was just going down to the living room to think, but one day I decided to pretend I was asleep and wait to see what was really going on × × × When I went down no one was there × Another night I followed him, carefully × He went to a place I’d spent my whole childhood believing to be bad, very bad × The adults used to tell us: Don’t go anywhere near Los Troncos, that club’s a den of iniquity. Nobody there has a soul. They’ve all lost their way. But that’s where he was. He went in. I couldn’t believe it × I jumped up onto the wall and climbed down the other side using some crates piled up in the courtyard × I stuck my head around a door and walked down a corridor × Stood spying for a little while and then spotted him: among the miners who’d just gotten paid, a few lively transvestites, and some Colombian whores, papá santo was thinking × Leaning on the bar with a beaded pint of beer, papá santo was thinking × × I followed him a couple more times, and the scene was always the same. I came to think that in truth papá santo wasn’t a queer, as Sandra’s sister had said, but that he simply needed company, noise, to feel the presence of bodies and smells while he sipped a cold drink × × And though most of the time they played rancheras, Sound, or strident cumbia, I noticed that occasionally someone would request a Peruvian waltz, or something even sadder. Then everyone seemed to come together in a gesture of collective intimacy, as though arm in arm they could repair the pieces of a shattered soul. All the queens, the whores, and the rest of the customers would listen to those sad songs together, like the ones Isidora and I listen to now, on days when we’re feeling particularly listless ×
