The Devil on Her Tongue (12 page)

Each time I came to him, Abílio had some of his day’s catch waiting, as well as something for me: a small bolt of cloth and embroidery floss, or two or three candles, a painted dish and once a bracelet of hammered copper. I loved thinking of him in the shops in Vila Baleira, picking out what he would give me.

My mother didn’t ask about the food or gifts I brought home, although she looked pointedly at what I held each time. Her silence annoyed me, and I stared back at her.

It wasn’t just my mother who was aware of Abílio’s gifts. The people of the beach watched me go to Abílio’s hut and watched me leave it. They saw us walking together. And the women of the island came less and less to our hut. At first I didn’t care; I would rather be at Abílio’s than working with them.

The busy tongues of the shopkeepers wagged of Abílio’s purchases. Soon the townspeople whispered about me as I passed.

Did I care? I had always been the subject of gossip. Soon I would marry Abílio and leave this place.

A
s I walked towards Abílio’s on my way home from work one late afternoon, my bare feet soundless on the sand, I heard his uncle’s voice. When had Rodrigo come from Funchal?

I stopped. I didn’t plan to listen, but Rodrigo’s voice was loud as he said my name. “You have no place for her in your life.”

I couldn’t hear Abílio’s response.

“Make your decision, Abílio. Choose a woman, or choose your own success. We’re speaking of your life, and your life here is done, with both Lía and Marco gone. There are women everywhere, both ladies and whores. You don’t need to bring one with you. Find one—or as many as you like—once you have the money and power. They will always be there.”

I wanted to march into the hut and tell Rodrigo Perez I was not that kind of woman. Why didn’t I? I waited, hoping to hear Abílio defend me. But I heard only Rodrigo.

“Don’t throw your life away for a woman. Look at me. I’m successful because I didn’t let anyone hold me back. The
garum
business is thriving—fish sauce is highly sought after. Think about what I’m offering you: you have the ability to become one of my top men.” His voice was loud and commanding, and reminded me of his brother. “You know I have no room for both of you in my house—and before long there’ll be a child to contend with, and you’ll be even more trapped. Don’t do it, nephew. A chance like this doesn’t come along often, but girls like the witch’s daughter can be found in any alley of any town.”

I backed away. I didn’t want Abílio to know I had heard the deeply shaming words.

I waited all evening for Abílio to come to me. I was sure he cared for me as I did for him. The feelings that brought me to his bed time after time were unlike anything I’d ever imagined. He was going to marry me. We were going to Brazil together. He wouldn’t let his uncle dictate his actions; he was stronger than that. I pressed the satiny surface of the cowrie shell to my lips and willed him to come.

That night I slept in small, fitful snatches, thinking I heard him tapping on the door. Twice I got up and went outside and looked up the dark beach. I blamed Rodrigo. Surely he’d taken Abílio to Rooi’s to drink wine. The third time I opened the door, my mother spoke softly.

“He’s not coming, Diamantina.”

I slammed the door, angry with her for knowing too much.

The next morning, as I ran up the beach, I said hello to Rosa, who lived a few huts from Abílio’s. She had often come to me for powders for her daughter’s troublesome stomach. She turned her head and didn’t greet me, but I was so relieved to see Abílio on the bench in front of his hut that I didn’t think anything of Rosa’s response.

I glanced through the open door; the hut was empty. “Where’s Rodrigo?”

“How do you know he was here?”

I swallowed. “Someone in town mentioned seeing him yesterday.”

“He left on the packet this morning.”

My spirits soared with relief and joy. I sat beside Abílio, our arms touching. I couldn’t let him know I’d overheard the conversation the day before; it was too humiliating. But now everything was all right. He took my hand and we went into the hut. He made love to me slowly, and afterwards, as we lay together, he reached up and
untied the twine at the end of my braid. He ran his fingers through my hair, bringing it to his face. “You always smell so sweet and wild, Diamantina.”

I sat up and put my hand on his cheek. “Abílio. I could go to Funchal with you and we could be married there, where nobody knows my … my circumstances. Then I’ll come back here to care for my mother. By the time you’ve earned the money for your passage to Brazil, I’ll have the money for mine from my father.” He needed to work for his uncle, and yet his uncle wouldn’t accept me. I wanted him to know I would wait for him. I wanted to bring him the comfort that he had brought me.

He looked at me with an odd, unreadable expression, then closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his lips twisted into something between a smile and a sneer. “Do you really think I would take you with me to Brazil?”

My mouth went dry.

He got up and stood with his back to me, lacing his breeches. “I’m leaving for Funchal tomorrow. On my own. And for good this time.” His voice was rough. Surely he was teasing me in the worst of ways. “You should leave now. I have a lot to do.”

I couldn’t move.

“Diamantina? I told you. Go.” Finally he looked back at me, his face dark, perhaps ashamed, or perhaps it was just shadowed by the ugliness of this moment.

“What are you talking about? You said … you said we would marry and go to Brazil together. You said we would marry, Abílio.”

“All women are the same. At the first hint of marriage they’re willing to open their legs.”

The words were so unexpected that I couldn’t speak for a moment. “Stop!” I finally said. “Stop talking this way.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “This is your uncle, not you. You don’t mean what you’re saying, Abílio.”

He sat heavily, staring at his hands spread in front of him on the table. “It’s just part of the game,” he said, his voice emotionless. “I can’t help it if you’re too naive to see the world as it really is.”

Tears came to my eyes, tears of confusion, of horror and disbelief.
I stumbled from the pallet, my skirt still caught up at one side, my blouse slipping off one shoulder. I knelt beside him and put my arms around him. “Abílio. Why are you being so cruel? What’s come over you?” I knew that Rodrigo had convinced him, but I couldn’t believe Abílio would hurt me in this way, with such ruthlessness.

“Do you really think I would sail away with a whore from Porto Santo?” he asked, seemingly unable to stop the terrible words. He looked away from his hands and at me. “You’ll stay here all your life, on your back, while I’ll discover new worlds and make my fortune.”

I looked into his eyes. They were brown and dull; why had I thought them so bright? There was nothing there. Nothing. He had called me a whore.

I rose and stepped away, wiping at my cheeks and straightening my skirt. I wouldn’t let him see me like this, crying and begging. Such shock and anger filled me that my legs wobbled. “Discovering new worlds? You call me a whore, and imagine yourself sailing off as an adventurer? You say you aren’t like your father, but you are. You’re every bit as cruel and vicious as him. And worse. You need your uncle to hold your hand and tell you what to do. You follow his demands like a sheep.” I attempted a laugh, but the look on Abílio’s face frightened me.

“Don’t ever laugh at me,” he said, his eyes strangely focused. “But you—
you
dare to compare me to my father? You’re definitely like your mother: a witch and a whore who slept with a heathen sailor. And look at you, the bastard of that union.”

“I know what I am.” My own smell rose from under my clothes, the rosemary fragrance I now wore, like my mother, and the remains of damp lust and of Abílio’s seed. The smell filled the air, threatening to choke me. I wouldn’t cry again.

“A girl like you will always find a man to give her what she needs,” he went on. He wore a slightly quizzical air, as if challenging me. “Or perhaps just what she wants.”

“I put a curse on you,” I said when I could finally speak again, when I could trust my voice to be strong. I found enough saliva to spit on the floor in front of him, needing to get the taste of hurt and
rage out of my mouth. “A curse for pox, for boils, for blindness. For a life of misery.”

His face was pale. “I’m not one of your superstitious island women, Diamantina. Your hex won’t work on me.” He gestured towards the door. “I’m finished with you. But I’ll remember you—you were made for a man’s pleasure.” He rose and took a small cloth bag, tied with a leather strip, from a nearby shelf. I heard the clink of coins. “Here.” He held it towards me.

His words, and the offer of money, hurt more than I thought possible. “I’m glad you’re going, and glad that I’ll never again see you, Abílio Perez.” I stepped close and slapped him, one hard blow with my open hand, my fingernails scratching his cheek. The bag of réis flew from his hand to the floor. “Burn in hell,” I said.

His cheek immediately reddened, thin lines of blood oozing in the scratches, and he grabbed my throat.

“You are just like your father,” I said, fighting the pressure of his fingers around my neck.

He swallowed and dropped his hand. Then he reached up to touch his cheek. He looked at his bloodied fingertips, and I saw that they trembled slightly.

I went to the door, needing to hold the frame for a moment. I was still shaking, my legs weak. I didn’t look back as I made my way home. In front of my hut I waded out into the water and pounded the waves with my fists. I ducked under the water, opening my mouth in a bubbling scream. Then I rose, choking, and wrapped my arms around myself. I stayed in the ocean as long as I could, not wanting to face my mother. Finally, drenched and shivering, I went into the hut.

She stared at me, but she did not speak. Neither did I.

I lay awake that night looking up at the roof Abílio and I had repaired together, and thought of the way he ran his fingers over my eyebrow and along the side of my jaw as he looked down at me. I thought of the taste of his skin, and cried then, pressing my blanket over my mouth.

My mother sighed. “Men make promises,” she said, as she had the first night I went to Abílio. I turned on my side and looked across the dark room, seeking the whites of her eyes. “At least he didn’t leave you with child. This I read in the smoke today. Even with the sponge and vinegar you know there is no assurance.”

I felt something close to gratitude that she didn’t force me to speak of what had happened earlier.

“A man’s promise,” she said. “That’s how I came to the island, so long ago. I believed in the man who took me away on a tall ship. Although I had once been a slave, I had bought my way out with my powers. But those same powers made me feared, and I was condemned to be burned alive. Even those who had once sought my help joined the crowd who came for me. And yet the man convinced me he was not like others. He said we would sail far away from Algeria, far away from the danger.”