Nancy, p.9
Nancy, page 9
But they arrived late to dinner, after all the praying and whatnot, looking worried × ×× They gave their thanks, but their minds were elsewhere. You could tell by their voices, which sounded watery × × They ate quickly and made their excuses, practically running out of there × × × × × × I was about to stand up and follow them when I felt one of the young women put her hand on my wrist. Smiling, she pointed me toward a room × × × We couldn’t find a bed, Sister, but I’m sure you’ll be comfortable on the sofa. We left you some blankets so you don’t get cold × × × Anything you need, I’ll be right here with the rest of the Sisters × × × I saw them stretch out their sleeping bags and get ready for bed × The men were already saying goodnight × × × I went into the room and lay down to wait × As soon as they turned off the light in the dining room I put my ear to the door. When I heard the first snore I put on my shoes and went out the window × × × × At the bottom of the hill a couple of lights were moving × × × I ran after them, skirting the houses × × When I got closer I recognized the voices of Bryan and Josías × I kept my distance, walking only when they walked, and tried to listen × × × × × × × Every now and then they’d start debating each other quietly, then get excited, raising their voices and making the hares run off terrified through the cactuses. Then they’d fall silent for a while × × ×
The lights, there one minute, suddenly disappeared × × × × × × × × ×
As I tried to follow them I came to an improvised mineshaft, one of those old, shoddily constructed ones, pitch black × × × I could hear echoes × I took a deep breath and went in × × × × × × × × × I tried to keep my balance and not whack my head on the stones × × The tunnel sloped down and there were hardly any supporting beams left × × × × I closed my eyes, dizzy from not being able to see anything, and so, as blind as if I’d had them open,
I descended × × × ×
For half an hour maybe, I descended × ×
× It probably wasn’t that long, but time stopped mattering × × × × ×
When it seemed like it couldn’t possibly go any further down, the tunnel flattened out and allowed me to walk more easily × After a while the tunnel started sloping up again × × × × × Shit, I thought, the Brothers have led me into a trap × And my mind started whirling: maybe they never came down here, maybe as soon as the echoes of my footsteps had faded they threw down a couple of beams so I’d be trapped × × × × × × × × × × I started treading more lightly, trying not to provoke a collapse × My chest a wet sponge, my bones worn out × The mine above me × × × × × × × × I did eventually come to an exit, though there were no stars and no cactuses: only a cloud, phosphorescent dust, like an aura × I kept climbing, and just as I was resting against one of the beams on the threshold I saw the silhouettes of the Brothers, their backs to me, holding hands × One of them was on his knees × ×
× × In front of them, occupying an alcove with a little hole that opened up to the sky, something was shining
× × × × × × × × × ×
× × When I saw the x-rays for the first time, 668a reminded me of whatever that shining thing was that day × × × ×
668a
A chariot of light, an angel with four faces, a UFO, a vertebra straining toward the moon: all empty words × × × × × ×
Whatever it was stayed there a while and then became a thread that rose up to the heavens through the little hole × × × × × In the darkness again, emptiness reigned × × × The Brothers were weeping, sobbing.
I saw them embracing × × × When they shined a light toward the entrance and saw me I didn’t ask them anything. What could they have known?
× × × × ×
× × × × ×
We exited through the mouth of the mine ×××× I took so many breaths of pure air I thought I was going to explode × × × × The Brothers walked on, step after heavy step, drained × × × Not even stopping to get their breath back × × × × I lay down on the ground for a moment, the stars burning my eyelashes, and waited. Ten minutes later I ran to catch up to them × × × × × As soon as I found them they passed me one of the flashlights. I went first, lighting the way × × × × × × × × Bryan and Josías dragged their feet behind. Every now and again I heard them sniffling × × × × × But which of them was crying? And why? × × × × × When we arrived at the square I held the light up to their faces and asked what had happened down there × × × × Kolob? murmured Josías, looking at Bryan like he was telling a joke × ××× ×
KOLOB
I repeated it to myself, as though memorizing the password to heaven × × × × × × ×
× × × × × KOLOB and a sign: x-ray 668a, the drawings on the hills, the shape of the cliffs, the face in the mountain seen from the sky × × × × × × ×
The virgencita herself and her tears, the thick fog and cloud in the valleys × ×
KOLOB × × ×
× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×
× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×
× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×
× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×
The muscles in the Brothers’ faces were tense as they looked at me, noses swollen × × × × Trembling × × × They locked themselves in the pickup, turned on the radio, and talked × × × × × × × Josías raised his face toward the sky and brought a finger to his chest, on the left side, where he carried his Book of Mormon × × × × × Bryan just nodded and blinked, caressing the steering wheel × × × × Every now and then they looked at me × × × × Finally they opened one of the back doors and started the engine × × × × × × × × × × × × × × The truck’s headlights laid open the desert, black and compact × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×
We went back to Ch that same night, without saying anything more × × × × × × × Before getting out in front of my house, I promised them I’d keep quiet × × × × They looked at me in the rearview mirror, suspicious × × × × × I realized my words sounded empty, so to try and reconcile things I smashed my phone as they watched × × Their expressions didn’t change × × × × × × × × × Maybe they’d even forgotten about the video ×
× × × × × ×
The last thing I remember from that night is lying down on the bed where I used to sleep with papá santo × But I woke up very early the next day in the temple × × × × Sister Ruth was crouched down, giving me a worried look × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×× × × × × × × She offered to buy me a cup of tea and asked if I remembered how I’d gotten there, if anything was wrong × × Is anything right, more like, Sister, I replied. I can’t really remember anything from last night × I lowered my eyes and she took me to the café × After a cup of tea we hugged, and she didn’t let me go till I promised that if anything happened I would come to her house and get her × How did you find me? I asked at some point, as we sipped from our mugs
I came in and saw you at the feet of the Prophet, crying in your sleep ×
I went home to try and get some rest × × × A pain very similar to the one I feel now was undoing me from the inside × × × Like my body was a pile of chicken bones and death a fat glutton sucking on them greedily × × × × But before I’d even started up the stairs I heard a knock at the door × × × × × × × × × × × When I looked out, one of the neighbors was staring at her hands like she was trying to erase her fingerprints × We looked straight at each other × One of her eyes was the color of milk × Your papá’s not coming back, she said × How do you know for sure? × He hasn’t been back since he left. If you’re going hungry, mijita, all you have to do is say. She gave a sad sigh and tried to stroke my hair × × × × × I jerked my head back, arching my neck, and shut the door in her face
I don’t need your help or anyone else’s, I shouted back ×××××××××××××××
And he stood between the dead and the living; and the plague was stayed.
Numbers 16:48
It was because of what happened to Isidorita that I saw the young doctor again ××× × Something was obviously up, because she’d been coming every other day and then disappeared completely ××× × I didn’t realize how long I’d been bedbound, laid low by the metastasis, till she appeared in the doorway, smiling, red and shiny and dragging a suitcase × I asked her how she’d been, and she fainted: put one foot in front of the other and fell face-first onto the floor × × × × × × × × × I called the doctor × My voice was trembling so much he must have thought: Señora Nancy’s on her last legs, I’d better get over there quickly to see her on her way ×
× Te doctor almost tripped over the fat woman’s body, which was lying there spread-eagled × Looks like she’s dying, I told him × × × In truth I didn’t think it was anything more than a fever, a cold maybe. But when the doctor set about examining her properly his faced changed so quickly I thought the poor woman had come precisely so she could drop dead in the place where she was most herself, the place where she felt safe × × × × She has an advanced vaginal infection, he told me, with a look that asked what he should do × Do what you can, I replied. She can stay here with me. There’s some cash hidden at the back of the underwear drawer: take what you need, and while you’re here stick me with that needle, will you? I can’t take it anymore × × × ×
Of course, he replied, and got on with doing everything he could without further comment × × × × ×
As the days went by, Isidora got worse. There were nights when I couldn’t sleep because of the pain, and I spent them gripping the edge of the bed, wanting to vomit one minute from the cancer and the next from the fat woman’s smell.
× One morning I asked the doctor to pass me Isidora’s suitcase. Inside, apart from a couple of bras and some clothes, was a box full of newspaper clippings and folded posters × × × In amongst them all was a photo of what I thought at first was a sea urchin cracked open × × × Then I looked at it closely, and asked the doctor to read aloud the paragraph preceding the photo, part of the same clipping × × × × × He started reading it quietly to himself first, in the light from the window, but I hurried him × × It’s an article about biology, he said, and cleared his throat:
“…‘The notion that we are the only miracle in the universe seems increasingly infantile as our knowledge of the world around us advances. Many people, concerned about ghosts or asteroids, do not recognize the fact that we coexist with a realm of microscopic organisms, which, seen up close, never ceases to amaze. Let’s take, for example, the fungal kingdom. It has citizens everywhere, all over the world. It is where life and death present us with one of their deepest mysteries,’ claims forensic entomologist Stuart Chapman, as we walk through the corridors of the Australian Biodiversity Information Services where he is principal investigator in the field of entomology. ‘The fungal kingdom has its own rules and strategies, and it has a sinister capacity for variation. There is a whole branch here that specializes, for example, in infection—in a fungus’s violent, deadly occupation of a particular kind of insect. All it takes is for a spore to stick to an insect’s exoskeleton and begin to germinate in the moisture: colonization is inevitable, and all that remains is for the visitor and the resident to get to know one another properly. With their nervous system paralyzed, all the host can feel is the guest entering and taking control. Then there is proliferation, flourishing, live geometry. Every host, moreover, provides a particular kind of food for his captor. A biological source in whose most private chamber resides a unique figure, a special mechanic used to generate a set of spores that will eventually go on, via airborne transmission, to settle in another organism. The first question to come to mind is: What is this? What do we call this synthesis arising from infection?’ I scratch my head, uncomfortable now that the expert, evidently excited, has fallen silent. I try to think of something to break the ice but it’s too late: in the palm of his hand he holds a little glass box containing an insect, completely still, which he himself seems happy to call a ‘zombie.’ ‘When the fungus bursts out from inside this Cordyceps militaris specimen, spilling across the continent, what will happen?’…”
× × × When the young doctor finished reading I asked him to show me the photo again × He came over and we looked at it for a while ×
Thanks to Doctor Stuart Chapman I spent an awfully long time, as I looked at the bug-flower in the photo accompanying the article, wondering what on earth it could be.
Isidora improved after a couple of days and stayed to look after me × Until then the smell had made it impossible to go back into that room × × × I kept thinking I’d woken up in the night, gone upstairs, and peered in, half-hidden, to see her panting, leaning against a corner, legs splayed ×× ×× Sometimes I even opened my eyes and thought the house was full of people passing through in procession, lining up all the way from the corner of the street to the bedroom door just to see the fat woman × × I felt like any moment now I’d have to go up and find her turned into a tree or a shrine. Her face barely visible above the clothes rolled right up to her double chin, a couple of quiet indigenous women helping to keep her fat belly out in the open air so the miracle would be visible × ×
Forty brown-skinned guests in total silence, illuminated by a coral reef: an exquisite forest of tentacles and phosphorescence flowering between Isidorita’s thighs × ×
Obviously what actually happened, contrary to what I dreamed, was that the fat woman was delirious with fever, waking up one day and the next taking a turn for the worse: she couldn’t sleep for the pain and would scratch herself all day long, lying there crying, barely able to piss × × Now that she’s better, mind you, she’s like a sister to me × × × ×
We while away the hours together, like when Pato and I used to walk along the beach or wait for it to get dark in the empty lot next to our house in Ch ×
Sparrowhawks of Christ is over but a new telenovela has started: Prayer Is Not Enough, in which a boy, who after a huge amount of work managed to get in to study law, abandons it all to follow a French priest as he goes about his community work, the dictatorship raging all the while × Isidorita’s whole body quivers with passion every time there’s a close-up of the priest delivering some profound revolutionary line × I laugh and ask why she’s so trembly × Isn’t it a shame priests aren’t like that anymore? I swear all the nice, good-looking ones died years ago, she says × × Maybe so, Isidora. I couldn’t say × × × × × × × × × I don’t believe in curates, or cures for that matter × She always looks at me like a guilty dog and, even though I laugh painfully, I still insist, passing her the envelope full of x-rays: How could I? × × The conversation usually ends there, and we go back to looking at the screen × I’m just seeing blurry silhouettes, really × Isidora watching carefully in case the priest reappears × × If the episode has an improbable ending, the fat woman hugs me excitably and says: You cynic, Nancy! Anything is possible! × And I repeat, quietly, to myself: How am I supposed to believe that if I didn’t even believe what I saw with my own eyes × × More than once, on hearing me, she’ll ask in return: But what was it that you saw? × × × What did you see, Nancy?
× × × And I show her x-ray 668a, held up against the light, and shrug.
Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will shew thee
Genesis 12:1
As I leaned against the door, just back from the temple, waiting for the neighbor to leave the courtyard, all I could think about was seeing papá perdido, hugging him, being with him quietly × My heart was a drum, giving me strength × × × × I had to find the Brothers and make them keep their promise. Make them take me to Fray Santiago as soon as possible × ×
× I walked all around Ch in the morning and then again after lunch, without success × × × The Brothers weren’t down by the Syria Passage, nor in the square, nor anywhere near the temple × × × × × It was like they’d been abducted × × × × I grabbed myself an ice cream outside the post office, mulling over the excursion × × × × × × × × × × × That’s where I saw him × The Romany × × × × In the back of a pickup, smiling, taking pots and pans to where they always sold them on the outskirts of Ch × × × × I decided to go and look for him at the crossroads × × × × × × × × × × × × And there he was, exactly where I knew I’d find him × I waved. His cousins looked at him, smiling × Gorja, he said. What d’you want × I need you to take me to Fray Santiago, I replied. I need to see my papá × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × Jesulé gave me a look so furious I thought he might fly at me × I went closer and implored him: Please, it’s the last thing I’ll ask you for × ‘Fraid we’re shooting straight for Bolivia, paisa. Besides, waste of gas dropping you there × × × × I’ve got money, I told him, showing him what I had left from selling the car × He smiled at me, tucked away the notes, and said: Get your stuff and we’ll go. We leave in two hours × × × He went off whistling, happy to have money back in his pocket × × But how could he care about money now. I didn’t × × × I needed to see papá santo as soon as possible × × × × × × × × I went home, made some sandwiches and a thermos of coffee and chucked some clothes in a backpack, determined to stay with him a couple of days. If I could find him, that is.
× Maybe Fray Santiago’s brainwashed him, I thought, and now he can live calmly in the Kingdom of God ×
