Thirteen Senses (28 page)

It was midmorning, and Domingo was with his friend Herlindo, a handsome Black Latino from Veracruz, Mexico. They were with some of the other Mexican prisoners over on their side of the prison yard. They were laughing and telling jokes, smoking a little good
yerbita,
and really having themselves a very smooth-happy time.

Domingo hadn't smoked much
marijuana
before. Back home in Mexico, it had always been only for the old people with pains in their joints, or to help them with their appetite or bowel movements.

Laughing good-naturedly, the first big White came right up into Herlindo's face and asked him when he was going to get tired of hanging out with these doped-up half-wit “Mex-ee-can greasers” and go be with the other “niggers” where he belonged.

Then this same tough-looking Anglo turned to Domingo, who was big and blue-eyed and red-headed, just like his father, Don Juan. He asked Domingo when he was going to smarten up and come over to their side— the White side, the right side—and bring along a little of that special medicinal weed that he was having smuggled in through his Chinese connections.

Domingo's face almost dropped. How in the hell had these tricky bastard
gringos
already found out about his Chinese connection that Salvador had just gotten for him. Then it hit Domingo like a thunderbolt. They were the ones who'd knifed that Chinese guy the night before.

Seeing the surprised look on Domingo's face, the second White guy laughed, flashing a knife in the bright sunlight. If Herlindo hadn't leaped in front of Domingo just in time to divert the blade, it would've found its mark into Domingo's belly.

HAVING WORKED OUT A PLAN
with her good friend the Virgin Mary, Doña Margarita went back home feeling pretty good. She always felt good after she'd talked to the Blessed Mother of Jesus. No
problema
was then too big. All then seemed possible and quite workable, when you had the backing of Heaven.

At home, Doña Margarita had a little breakfast, then she went next door and told her daughter Luisa and Luisa's children to not let anyone bother her because she was going to go back to bed and take a nap.

But Doña Margarita didn't go to her home to take a nap. No, she went home to set a trap for the Devil, who loved to come to people as they slept.

Doña Margarita hid her rosary under her pillow and lay down to sleep. But she wasn't sleeping; oh, no, she was ready. The Virgin Mary and she had worked out this plan. And then here it began again, just as it had been the night before; these two great big eyes were staring at her from the little fire in her wood-burning stove.

The old woman held, not moving. She knew that these two great big eyes belonged to her old friend the Devil. So Doña Margarita didn't panic. No, she simply went slip-shifting to that soft, easy, relaxed “place” halfway between being awake and being asleep, to that state of complete availability to God.

And so the Devil continued talking, thinking that he was getting past her conscious mind and into her soul-consciousness because she wasn't resisting.

Time passed, and more time passed, and she lay there on her little bed so still for so long that finally the Devil couldn't tell if she was asleep or if he'd convinced her of his wicked ways and she was now his.

Not moving a muscle, the crafty old She-Fox now watched with her Heart-Eye as these two great big eyes in her little wood-burning stove got larger and larger, braver and braver, as they continued dream-talking to her, telling her inside of her mind to relax and stop acting so surprised, because it was well-written in the stars long, long ago that evil would triumph over all the whole world in the end.

This was when she got the full smell of
el Diablo
as he came out of the fire of her little wood-burning stove, hoping to snatch her soul.

Then here he was, the Devil, himself, ready to possess her, when Doña Margarita suddenly leaped out of her bed with the agility of a young maiden, and grabbed hold of
el Diablo
by his long tail and swung him around and around and threw him out of her home with such power that old Devil flew past the clouds to the stars, SCREAMING as he went!

“Vieja condenada!”
he shouted. “You tricked me again!”

“Vieja
yourself! You will not have either one of my sons!” she screamed! “So help me God, you come sneaking on me while I sleep again, and it's not your tail I'll grab! I'll grab you by your
tanates
next time, and rip them out by their roots!”

“VIEJA PENDEJA!”
screamed the Devil. “I thought you were too old to get hold of me anymore!”

“Old I am,” she said, “but slow I will never be in dealing with you! And I still got one good tooth to tear your heart out, too!” she added.

“Damn the day you women were created. I swear, I left Our Lord God's side only because of you women!”

“Thank you for the compliment!
Gracias por la flor!
For I'm proud to know it was us, the women, who separated the likes of you from God!”

Hearing this, the Devil slapped his own mouth! “I didn't mean that as a compliment,
vieja cabrona,
you tricked me again!”

She laughed. “Of course, I tricked you again. Because come on, admit it, you love me, particularly when I trick you, my sweet!”

“Mujer escandalosa,
don't call me ‘sweet'! You must fear me!”

“That's for men who don't know the joys of birthing!” yelled Doña Margarita, blowing kisses to the Devil to finish driving him crazy.

Instantly, he took off in a mad fit of rage!

Doña Margarita awoke laughing! She just loved tormenting her old
amigo el Diablo.
But also, she well knew that she could never drop her guard when dealing with this Force of Evil.

The drums were beating!

The drums were beat, Beat, BEATING!

The One Collective
HEART-CORAZÓN
of HUMANITY was BEAT BEATING, POUNDING
CON AMOR!

IN CARLSBAD
, Salvador awoke with a start.

“What is it?” asked Lupe.

“Nothing,” said Salvador, trying to catch his breath. “Just go back to sleep. It's early yet.”

The drums were beat, BEAT, BEATING!

“Salvador,” said Lupe, “tell me what it is? I can feel it, too. Something is wrong.”

He sat up in bed, holding his forehead with both of his hands. “My mother,” he said, finally, “I can hear her; no, I mean, I can feel her very clearly. It's a calling,” he added.

“A calling?”

“Yes, you know, when you just know that a loved one is calling you.”

Lupe breathed deeply, knowing exactly what Salvador meant. All her life, her own mother had also gotten callings,
llamadas.
For instance, when they'd gotten word that her older sister Sophia's ship had gone down in the Sea of Cortez and she'd died along with all the hundreds of other people, their mother, Doña Guadalupe, had simply closed her eyes, placed both of her hands on her belly, just below her heart, and breathed deeply two or three times, then she'd opened her eyes and said, “No, Sophia lives,” just like that.

The months had passed and become years, and they'd come from their box canyon in Mexico to work in the cotton fields of Arizona, but never once had their beloved mother changed her mind. For the heart spoke a language that the mind didn't know, and this language of the
heart-corazón
knew no earth-distance or barriers, for it came straight “through” God!

Lupe would never forget how everyone had given up on Sophia, feeling that she was dead for sure, and they'd thought that their mother had just gone crazy. But no, the old Yaqui Indian woman was not crazy. No, she'd just hold herself here, in her center, close her eyes, breathe in of God, then tell everyone—that no, one thousand times no, Sophia was alive and well. She could feel her “calling” from here within her womb as sure as the day she'd been born!

Their mother had been absolutely right. Three years later, when they'd come to California following the crops, miracle of miracles, they'd found Sophia and her new husband, Julian, in Santa Ana, California. Their mother had finally planted her white lilies that she'd brought with them from
la Lluvia de Oro,
giving thanks to God.

“So what will you do?” now asked Lupe.

“Well, I'll go,” said Salvador.

“Right now?”

“Yes, immediately.”

“Good. Then I'm going with you.”

“But, Lupe, I don't know what this is all about. It could be, well—”

“Dangerous?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Salvador, is there something that you're hiding from me? Are you a bootlegger?”

“My God!” he said. “Not now, Lupe.”

“Well, just say yes or no.”

“No,” he said.

“Really?” she said.

He was up and getting his boots and clothes. “Yes, really, I'm not a bootlegger.”

“Well, if you aren't a bootlegger, then how did you end up with that pint bottle I found under the pillows?”

“Lupe,” he said, trying to be as patient as he could, but he was in a hurry “I have trucks, and well, now and then I haul things for some people. I do many things to make a living, Lupe. Find me something that needs getting done, and I'm right there to do it, especially for the right price.”

Lupe was getting her own clothes. She'd heard the men talk like this before. After their mine had closed down back in their box canyon, men had begun doing many things just to make a living. Her own godfather, who'd married Sophia, had gone down the mountain through bandit-infested
barrancas
to get supplies for his little grocery store.

Quickly, Lupe dressed and was ready to go out the door with Salvador. She'd never been like Carlota and Maria, who took hours to make themselves ready to go out the door. All of her life, Lupe would be ready to go at just a moment's notice, like any man or her older sister Sophia. After all, she never wore any makeup. This was just her natural good looks, even her beautiful, reddish lips.

But then, going out the door, was when she saw it in Salvador's face.

“You don't want me to go with you, do you?” she said.

He breathed. “No, I don't,” he said.

“But Salvador, you've been coming and going ever since we came down here to Carlsbad,” she said, with tears coming to her eyes, “and I've just been here locked up inside of the house.”

He nodded. “I know, I know, and under normal circumstances, I'd love for you to come, but like I said—”

“Then take me to my parents' house and drop me off,” she said, “and afterward, you can get me when you're ready.”

“But that's a couple of hours out of the way, Lupe.”

She didn't say one single word. No, she just gave him such a look with her left eye, that he knew there was no more talking.

“I'll get the can of money,” she said.

“Oh, good thinking,” he said. My God, he hadn't thought of the money. “But hurry! I'm going to be driving fast!”

“In Kenny's truck?”

He smiled as he watched her go back inside to get their money. He hadn't thought of that either, that his Moon was still at Kenny's. My God, this bride of his was really a very fast learner.

“We'll stop by Kenny's,” he said to her when she returned with the money. “Maybe the Moon is ready.”

ALL HIS LIFE
Domingo had heard the very Mexican saying,
“Que unos nacen con estrella y otros estrellados,”
that some are born with a star leading them through life while others are born crushed by a star from the start.

And now at this moment, Domingo felt the full impact of this very Mexican statement. For he knew damned well that he was the biggest and most capable fighter of all the Mexicans here in San Quentin, and so he wanted to be the one to take on the big, powerful
Animal Alemán
—as the
Mejicanos
had nicknamed this giant white guy, the German Animal. But the dark little twins from Guanajuato said no, taking Domingo aside so they could speak to him in private.

“Look, Domingo,” said the first little twin, “as we've told you before,
hermanito,
we both know that you have heart and that you're with us, and we're family, but please, understand: this fight was coming between us and these
gringos
way before you got here to San Quentin, and it will be going on long after you are gone. My brother and I are in for life, not just five little years, and so we got to take care of it ourselves . . . not you. Do you understand?”

But Domingo didn't understand. Because this whole thing had gotten started because of him. Hell, one day, Domingo had refused to clean the toilets if the Whites didn't do it, too. But he'd just done it mostly for fun. He'd never expected it to blow up into a whole race riot thing.

And now because of that, it was these little twins who were planning to do battle with the monstrous White Enforcer. Why, Domingo, himself, was just about six feet tall, but this
Animal Alemán
towered over him and outweighed Domingo by at least sixty pounds, too.