Beyond the Ties of Blood (21 page)

“Well,” Irene said, “I think I'm done for today.” Gabriela looked up from the centrifuge she had been recalibrating.

“I'm almost done, too,” she said. “Do you live nearby?”

“In fact I do. I rented an apartment up the main avenue a few blocks from here.”

“Wow. You're so lucky. I still live at home with my family, and when I come in at this time I often end up waiting until the morning rush hour before catching the bus home. It feels safer that way, and I discovered there's a small room at the back with a cot.”

“You're welcome to come back to my apartment with me and wait until a safer hour. I'm always too keyed up to sleep for a while, anyway. We could have a cup of tea or something. And I have a couch in the living room that must be more comfortable than that cot.”

“That sounds great,” Gabriela said. “Just give me a couple of minutes.”

They walked out together into the quiet of the early morning. Except for the occasional taxi that blinked its headlights at them to see if they wanted a ride, the streets were deserted. Arms folded across their chests to try to keep warm, they hurried the short distance to Irene's building. They rode up the elevator to the fifth floor, and Irene opened the door.

“Come on in,” she said. “I'll start the space heater, and the living room should be warm in no time.” She turned the switch to start the flow of gas and placed a lighted match next to the wick to get it going. “Take off your coat and make yourself comfortable. It'll just take a minute to warm up some water for tea.”

Gabriela took her coat off and settled into the sofa, taking a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from the inside pocket of her bag. In addition to her jeans and black boots, she was wearing a form-fitting turtleneck sweater the color of nutmeg. Her breasts were small and round and high, and the nipples stood out with the cold. She crossed her legs.

“A cup of tea will hit the spot,” she said. “It always seems to be coldest in the early morning. By the way, is it all right if I smoke?”

Irene brought out an ashtray and took her coat and Gabriela's to the hall closet. She hung them up and went into the kitchen. Her hands were trembling slightly and it took two matches to light the stove. She filled the kettle and put it on the flame. As she riffled around in the cupboard above the counter, she was surprised at the strength of her attraction. It hadn't occurred to her that this would happen in Chile, where, in spite of the socialist government, people still seemed so straitlaced and repressed.

“Is Earl Grey all right?” she called.

“Sounds perfect,” Gabriela answered.

Irene took the tin down and pressed some leaves into the teapot. By then the kettle was boiling, and she filled the pot with hot water. Placing the rest of what they needed on a tray, she picked it up and walked back out into the living room.

“Mmmmm. That smells so good,” Gabriela said. “And you must have read my mind. I love Earl Grey with milk, and I have a real sweet tooth.”

Irene set the tray down on the coffee table and sat on the couch, with what she hoped was a safe distance between them. For a while they were busy pouring, spooning in sugar, and stirring.

“This is perfect,” Gabriela said, leaning forward to put her cigarette out in the ashtray. “Thanks so much.”

They were silent for a while. The milk and sugar warmed Irene's belly, but she was also conscious of the knot of arousal gathering inside. Before she'd gone to study in the States she'd had a group of friends, mainly from the advanced science program. She remembered one of them, a boy on her same schedule, and their occasional trysts in the back of the science lab in the early mornings before the teacher got there. During her years at MIT, there had been several clumsy classmates who'd taken her to the movies and tried to make out in the back row. At the beginning of her third year she'd met another woman, on an exchange from nearby Wellesley College. They'd been friends for a while, and in the free spirit of the time, they'd experimented with something more. Irene had been fascinated by the softness of her friend's hands, and how they felt along her skin. Although the relationship did not last for more than a few months, Irene had found women more interesting after that. She'd learned to read the codes, to get a sense for who was open to a relationship, and yet often it was still the other woman who had made the first move.

Trying not to be too obvious, she glanced at Gabriela. They were probably about the same age, their early-to-mid-twenties, but she was pretty sure that Gabriela hadn't gone to the university. Her reference to taking the bus to her family's house, when combined with her olive skin and black hair, suggested to Irene that she was from a working-class family.

“I'm sorry, Irene,” Gabriela said, interrupting her thoughts. “I really need to go to the bathroom. Can you show me which door it is, please?”

After escorting her guest to the bathroom and making sure there was soap and fresh towels, Irene sat back down on the couch. Whatever the political changes going on in Chile, she thought, it was clear that the sexual atmosphere hadn't opened up enough for her to feel comfortable making the first move. When Gabriela got back from the bathroom, she would suggest that it was time to try to get a bit of sleep. She'd bring out some blankets and a pillow, and that would be that.

“That's much better,” Gabriela said as she approached the couch and sat down. Was it Irene's imagination, or did she sit a bit closer? Gabriela turned to face her, bringing one leg up just a little on the couch in order to find a more comfortable position. In addition to the touch of sandalwood that floated across her face, Irene smelled something muskier and more pungent.

“Would you like another cup?” Gabriela asked. “Let me serve it this time.” She stood and came around the table, picking up the teapot. They both reached for Irene's cup at the same time, and their hands met. At first, neither of them moved. Then Gabriela put down the teapot. Still sitting and without looking up, Irene moved her thumb lightly, back and forth, across the top of Gabriela's index finger. When Gabriela pulled away, Irene felt a flash of panic. Had she misinterpreted? But Gabriela knelt by the side of the coffee table, bringing her face even with Irene's. Their eyes met, and it was Gabriela who reached out, stroking Irene's cheek, her lips grazing Irene's nose and chin before settling gently, yet more firmly, upon her mouth. Irene tasted the bittersweetness of tobacco.

By the end of July, when winter had Santiago in its dank and frigid grip, Gabriela was staying over whenever she worked late at the lab, and also on weekends. One Sunday, after it stopped raining, they decided to take a walk. Heading east, then north, they reached the willow-lined pathways of the
parque forestal
. Although it was Sunday, the recent cold rains had emptied it out and they were alone. After walking a bit, they found a secluded corner behind the generous branches of an old weeping willow and sat down, their arms around each other. In that deserted corner, the rays of the sun an afterthought following the hard rain of early afternoon, they felt secure and anonymous enough to kiss. Irene closed her eyes.

“Irene!?”

They jumped apart. When Irene focused her eyes, she saw Eugenia, holding the hand of a long-haired, red-bearded young man who looked like he'd just stepped off the plane from Cuba. For a while no one spoke. Irene recovered first.

“Well,” she said, casting an eye toward Eugenia's companion, “it seems we've both been keeping secrets from Mamita.

“Gabriela,” she continued, “this is my sister, Eugenia.” She looked back at the revolutionary poster child. “And who is this?”

Eugenia gave Gabriela an awkward kiss on the cheek, then took the young man's hand. “This is Manuel,” she said. Irene and Manuel touched cheeks. In the silence that followed, the rush of the swollen river was distinctly audible in the background.

“Well,
compañeras
,” Manuel said, “let me suggest that we adjourn to Eugenia's and my favorite restaurant, for a bottle of red wine. My treat.”

They sat inside, at the table nearest the small gas heater. They didn't have to fight for the choice location, because no one else was there. It was clear that Manuel and Eugenia were regulars, because the waiter brought them a bottle of Santa Rita without even being asked, uncorked it, and poured out four small glasses. “Anything to eat,
compadre
?” he asked Manuel. They all shook their heads in unison, then nursed their wine in silence. Manuel passed around a pack of black tobacco cigarettes, and the sharp fragrance filled the air as Eugenia and Gabriela joined him. The gas heater hissed quietly in the corner near them, casting a copper glow across the marble tabletop.

“Eugenia tells me you're a chemist,” Manuel said to Irene, breaking the silence at last.

“I guess you could say that,” she answered. “Though I don't have a degree yet.”

“And you, Gabriela?” Manuel asked after a few more minutes had passed.

“We met at the lab,” Irene answered quickly. “Gabriela is a lab technician.”

The hissing heater, the light clicks of the wine glasses against the table, only deepened the hush that settled upon them after that. Finally the waiter approached to remove the empty wine bottle. “Do you want another,
compadre
?” he asked. Looking around the table, Manuel nodded. Once the waiter brought the bottle and refilled the glasses, Manuel raised his. “Here's to all of us. Anybody want a sandwich? I'm treating.” Eugenia and Manuel ordered their usual steak and avocado, but Irene and Gabriela preferred ham and cheese. The familiar routine of ordering helped ease the initial awkwardness that still hovered in the air.

About halfway through her sandwich and three quarters done with the second bottle of wine, Eugenia looked at her sister. “When you rented an apartment,” she said, “I guess I believed you when you said it was because of your work.” She looked briefly in Gabriela's direction.

“Hold on a minute,” Irene said. “The experiments actually do have to be checked at two in the morning, at least three times a week. Besides, there's no reason that I couldn't keep my relationship a secret from Mama, just like you are. In fact, it would be a whole lot easier, because I could say we were just friends.”

“Well,” Eugenia said, “I'd hoped that when you got back we'd be able to distract the police together, if you know what I mean. But now I'm the one running interference again, just like in the old days, and I don't like it. Before, when Mama and Papa had their huge crisis, you were just waltzing along in your own life, and then you left, and who do you think had to pick up the pieces …” Eugenia caught herself and sat back, taking a deep breath. Manuel and Gabriela were moving their heads back and forth as if following a tennis match. Eugenia's hand trembled as she lifted her glass to her lips to drink the last remaining drops of the Santa Rita.

“I think that's enough wine for now,” Manuel said. “Let's have some hot tea.
Compadre!
A pot of black tea and four cups, please! Bring some hot milk, too!”

They busied themselves with the pouring, adding milk and sugar cubes, stirring, sipping. Everyone but Irene lit up another cigarette. It was raining again outside, though more gently than earlier in the day, and the drops slanting against the window combined with the occasional sputter of the heater to throw a blanket of syncopation over the group's jangled nerves.

“Maybe it's not my place to get involved,” Gabriela suggested eventually. “Irene and I have known each other less than a month. I don't know what it's been like in your family. But I have a sister. She's the next one younger than me, and we've been like twins all our lives, only eleven months apart. We were always finishing each other's sentences. In high school we covered for each other, you know? When we started hanging out with guys, or smoking behind the school, or taking our first drink, it was like we were figuring everything out together.

“But in my last year of high school, there was this girl from the neighborhood. She was a year older, had started at the teachers' college and was still living at home with her parents. We started talking one day at the local store, and one thing led to another. Long story short, my sister caught us one Sunday in the park, pretty much like what just happened today. I'm not sure she's over it yet, and it's been three years. And with me going to technical school, then getting this job … well, I don't think our relationship will ever be the same. Sure, she's been cool about keeping the secret, she's loyal to me and everything, but we'll never be as close again.

“Running into each other the way we did today, none of us planned it. So maybe we should just be a little patient with each other.”

Manuel had been listening intently, his head cocked sideways, left index finger rubbing the edge of his teacup. When he finally spoke, his voice was coarse. “Maybe you'll think this is stupid,” he began, “but listening to all three of you I'm feeling pretty jealous, to tell the truth. No, wait!” He lifted his hand as all three seemed poised to answer at the same time. “I don't mean to say it's been easy for you, no. But you're all talking about having somebody to share the family stuff with. Sure, maybe you'd like things to be different, for the other one to understand you better, support you better, who knows? But at least you have someone.” He took a sip of his tea.