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Authors: Irene Beltrán Hernández

Across the Great River (6 page)

BOOK: Across the Great River
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“Oh, Kata! Don't be silly!” she scolds. “Now, hop down so we can go inside.”

The porch squeaks and groans as it complains of our weight and Don Juan almost pulls the door knob from the door. “This place needs lots of work,” he says as he stands aside to let Mama through.

Mama takes a key with a number on it from her bundle. It matches with the number on the door at the top of the stairs. She puts the key in the lock and turns the knob. “Well, we're here at last.”

Our new home is an upstairs room which has two mattresses on the floor. It has a closet-size bath and thin walls and one large window that overlooks the busy street below. The glass in the window is stained yellow with age. I try to rub it clean with my hand, but it does not help.

The tub has animal claws for feet. “Mama, this tub is rusty.” I open the faucet. The water runs out dirty until at long last it clears somewhat. I take a sip, then spit it out. “This water tastes ugly! I would rather drink the cool well water at Anita's than this muddy water.”

Mama swings around to me as if she wants to strike out. “Kata! We will fix this place later.”

I circle the room. “But Mama, there's not even a place to cook.”

She sighs, “I will go to the market and buy a hot plate. That will do for now.” She smiles weakly. “We'll figure out some way to make tortillas on it.”

Don Juan interrupts, “I must leave, señora. Good luck.” He tips his hat and says, “I am sure we will see each other again.”

I hear the old truck crank up from the street below and dash over to the window. “Goodbye, Don Juan! Take care of Anita!” I shout.

He waves his hat from the window, then disappears around the corner. I turn to see Mama sitting on the lumpy mattress in the center of the room. Her shoulders droop to her knees and she rubs her neck as if it hurts. She is tired and I do not want to upset her anymore, so I add, “Mama, we can paint the room to brighten it up.” She stops rubbing her neck and smiles up at me.

That night we are all restless. It is not the brilliant moon that flows in through the glass, but a
street light which casts yellow shadows against the bare walls. Nor is it quiet, like out at the ranchito. The trucks and cars honk and the wagon wheels rattle over the stone street late into the night, and I hear Mama's beads as the pass through her fingers.

I am not comfortable at our new home. Pablito does not seem to mind the change, as long as I take him outside for long afternoon walks. For me, the room grows ever so small, as if the walls are closing in on top of me, and I cannot stop them.

I enjoy the afternoon walks because they make the day shorter. Often we sit on the steps and watch people pass. I study them silently. Is he a farmer? Or does he work in a laundry? How many children does she have? It's a game I play with myself because I never speak to these people. I only wave if they wave at me.

On the fourth night that we spend in our room, I awake covered in sweat. I sit up quickly and turn to Mama, but she sleeps so soundly that I decide not to disturb her. I lay quietly in the dark, wondering why the man with the tattoo has once again awakened me from my sleep.

I rise and walk over to the window to look out. Far below, I see a man standing beneath the street lamp, smoking a cigarette. He seems lost, so I watch him for several moments, but soon he walks into the darkness around the corner.

The next afternoon I take Pablito for his usual walk around the block. As I turn the corner I stop and gasp, for I see the man with the tattoo. “Pablito! Come here quickly!” I take his hand and hurry in the direction of our room. A cold chill springs up my back and the man turns quickly, as if he has recognized me.

At the next corner I glance back to find that he is
following us at a very slow pace. He stops for a moment to scratch his head, but never takes his eyes off us. I hurry Pablito back toward the house, but in a final burst of speed the man runs towards us. I drag Pablito as fast as I can, but the man passes us, then stops in front of the apartment house. There on the steps several yards from us he turns and stares at me in a hard way. Then he disappears through the door.

I wait outside for a long time until Pablito becomes cranky from the hot afternoon sun. “Oh, Pablito. I am scared. I do not want to go inside, but you need to take your nap and I must be brave.”

Once I step inside I see no one around, so I rush upstairs. I put the key to our door and fly through it bolting it securely behind me. I back away from the door slowly, trying to remember what Anita said about bad signs. I put Pablito on the mattress and sit for a moment trying to catch my breath. A light tap on the door makes my skin jump and after a long time I stammer, “Who is it?”

“Me, Anita.”

“Anita!” I shout. “I'm glad you are here.” I unbolt the door and rush to give her chunky figure a great hug.

“You miss me. That is good!” She chuckles, then glances at Pablito, who now lies upon the mattress half asleep.

I pull her inside and quickly bolt the door, then turn and say, “Did you have a hard time finding us?”

“No, it was fairly easy.”

I give her another hard squeeze.

“My, my, barely five days. You really missed old Anita.” She pushes me back gently and studies my face. “What is wrong, girl? You shake, little one.”

I am about to tell her when there are loud knocks
on the door. They startle me so that I feel I have jumped right out of my sandals. Anita does not budge. I look up to her for guidance.

She stares at the door with eyes as wide as a scared cat's. She feels something, of that, I am sure. She slowly lifts one finger to her lips and motions for me to keep quiet. Again, the loud knocks crack upon the door. I see Anita glance back at the dozing Pablito and then back at the door.

“Maybe it's Mama,” I whisper.

Anita seems to float magically across the floor. Once she reaches the door she starts spinning around and around, faster and faster. She stops abruptly and glares with bulging eyes, but I cannot tell if she is staring at or through the door. She makes wide sweeping motions with her hands, like half-moon shapes, then spins one way rapidly, making her skirt fan out above her knees, and then she pivots the other way very slowly and the skirt comes back down to her ankles.

A low snake hiss escapes her clinched lips and grows louder as her arms circle wide over her head. She quickly steps back and freezes, with both arms outstretched to the heavens. Deep throaty moans jump rapidly out of her neck, growing louder, then suddenly changing into low cries like those of a kitten. Then she is still and silent. Red marks seem to crease her forehead and her shoulders stiffen. Within moments the sounds of heavy footsteps move away from the door.

Anita collapses before me like a statue crumbles with age. She falls to the floor on her knees and her head hangs to her chest. Her breathing is heavy and she is covered with sweat. I run to help her, but she motions for me to let her sit for a while. I sit beside
her, watching her chest and stomach heave. After a while she speaks slowly. “He will not bother you again. It was wise of you not to speak or he would have known you were here.”

“Anita, why did you wave your arms like that?”

“I put the evil eye on him. Evil fights evil and he will not bother you anymore.”

“How do you know, Anita?”

“Because I can see what others cannot. Evil has to be taken care of by someone who has God powers.”

“But Anita! I have not been afraid all week long… that is until I saw him today. At first I was not sure, but I remember him from when we crossed the river, maybe it was the way he wore his sleeves.”

Her smile slowly fades. “Then he wants something that you or your Mama possess.” She stares into the distance for some time, then breaks into a wide smile, as if she has forgotten about the man. She pats my knee encouragingly.

“Anita, he made me feel cold all over,” I add.

“That is the way your body warns you of danger. Listen to it, for it sends little messages warning us of things to happen.”

“What would have happened?” I ask.

She shrugs, “Perhaps, he would have harmed you and the boy. Then your mother would have been alone in the world.”

“Do you mean, kill us?”

Anita nods, then goes to Pablito, who is now stirring. I sit on the mattress and wonder how Anita knows all these things. I have heard tales in the old village of these blessed people who have powers and are capable of changing every day life with one stroke of the hand.

I watch her sitting there, bouncing Pablito up and
down. I have seen her take my mother's life in her hands and cure her. I have seen her heal like a medicine man, and I have seen her fight evil with her own hands. Yet, she is a simple woman who takes pleasure in post cards and little boys. I understand that she has much power, but I do not fear her.

Anita looks up from playing with the baby and says, “It would be best if you told your Mama about this man and what has happened here.”

“If you think so, Anita. But, why worry her over nothing?”

“If you call your life nothing, then so be it. But, all mothers have a right to know the dangers that surround and befall their children.”

I nod that I understand and she goes back to playing with Pablito.

When Mama arrives she greets Anita with a hug. “Thanks for coming for the weekend, Anita.”

“I missed the young ones so. It is good that I came when I did, too.”

“What do you mean?” questions Mama, who looks over at me.

“Mama,” I blurt out, “there was a strange man knocking at the door. I believe he is the man Papa paid the money to before we crossed the river. He frightens me.”

“What did he want?” She turns to Anita for the answer.

Anita hesitates, then looks at Mama closely. “Oh, I am sure it was nothing. Probably selling something. We did not answer the door.”

“Good. Kata, you must never answer the door unless you know who it is. Understand?”

“Yes, Mama.” I look at Anita straight in the face and she winks back at me. Perhaps Anita knows best.
After all, Mama is already biting her nails and twisting a lock of hair that has fallen forward.

“Come. I have brought fresh cheese for us and pastry for the children.” Anita gently takes Mama's arm. “And a bottle of home-made wine for us señoras.” She pulls the things from her basket and chuckles loudly. “I have also brought some eggs to sell at the market tomorrow.”

“Mama,” I shout, “can I go to the market with Anita?”

Mama smiles, “We will all go, Kata. I have some shopping to do also.”

The morning air is still crisp when we set out for the market. We walk at a slow pace so that Anita and Mama can keep up. Pablito and I peek into each shop window as we pass.

The market is busy with stands filled with people selling corn, eggs, tacos and many things that grow on small ranchitos. Carts, wagons, horses, burros and trucks are almost as numerous as the people that mill around buying and selling.

I grab on tightly to Anita's skirt for fear that I will lose her in the crowd. Mama carries Pablito so that he will not be hurt by the many bags that people carry.

Anita points to the water fountain that is in the center of the plaza. “We'll find a spot there under the tree.”

We push and pull our way over to the tree. Once there, the people make room for us as they greet Anita happily. “Good to see you, Doña Anita. Sit here next
to me,” says a woman who holds a baby nursing at her breast.

“Many thanks, Doña Marta. How is the little one?” questions Anita as she lays out her blanket and eggs. “Kata, I birthed that baby. It was a fine birth, too,” chuckles Anita. “I wish you could have been there.”

“He's a pretty baby, Anita,” I say, wishing I had been there, too.

A man passes with candy-coated apples. Anita whistles for his attention and then calls him over. “Give me two apples for the children.” From her skirt pocket she pulls out her coin purse and pays the man. She hands me an apple, then one to Pablito.

“I have never seen such sticky red apples,” I say as I kiss Anita on the cheek.

We sit there eating our apples while Anita sells her eggs. Mama leaves to look for things she needs. By lunch time, Anita has sold all her eggs and she pulls out her purse and puts all her coins in it. Then she rises saying, “I will go find your mother. Stay here with Doña Marta until I return.”

“Yes, Anita,” I say.

Soon they return, loaded with flour tortillas filled with minced barbecue meat. As we eat we sit and watch the men and women of the town tending to their business. I watch Mama, too, as she scans the crowds searching for Papa. Each time a tall man with a mustache walks by, she stiffens and rises to her knees to get a better glimpse. A heavy sigh escapes her lips and she sits down again to finish her lunch.

I leave with Mama to buy some fabric. I hold tightly to her hand as she leads me through the rows of stands. Finally we arrive at the right stand and she begins checking through the bolts of fabric, searching
for the right color and price. “Kata, we need to make you a new skirt. Come help me pick the color.”

All the colors and bolts of fabric soon confuse me, so I look out into the crowd. I see a tall slender man with a thick mustache hurrying by. I follow him, hoping he might be Papa. He stops at several stands down the row. “Papa!” I shout, but when he turns it is not my Papa.

“Kata!” yells Mama. “Katarina! Where are you?”

I turn and hurry back to the fabric stand.

“Kata, don't leave like that, you might get lost,” scolds Mama.

“I just thought I saw Papa, but it wasn't him.”

She puts down the bolt and looks at me. “I know how you feel child, but stay close to me. I'd hate to lose you, too.”

“Yes, Mama,” I answer, looking up into the faces of each tall man that passes.

BOOK: Across the Great River
5.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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