Thirteen Senses (57 page)

Doña Margarita laughed. “Well, then by all means thank Carlota every night before you go to sleep. For in her doings she saves you and Lupe a lot of heartbreak.”

“How is that?”

“Because,” said the old woman, closing her eyes in concentration, “if it wasn't for Carlota, then you and Lupe would be fighting each other to learn the lessons that life destined for you. Carlota,
mi hijito,
is your Holy Cross, thank God,” she added.

Salvador burst out laughing. “Never in a million years,
mama,
would I have ever dreamed that I'd be thanking God for my loud-mouth sister-in-law! You are the best! I adore you,
mama
!”

“Of course, I was the first pair of tits you sucked!” she said.

It was getting late when Salvador realized that he should start for home. Lupe was by herself and he didn't want her to be alone. But then he remembered that he'd promised Lupe to call her if he was ever going to be late, that he'd call Eisner's little market up the street from their house and have someone deliver the message.

“Mama
” said Salvador, “I'm going to go into town so I can call Lupe. She hasn't been that well and I want her to know that I'll be late—or should I stay over,
mama,
and go with you to the church in the morning?”

“No, you go home to Lupe,” said the old woman. “I don't need your help Here,
mi hijito.
Everything is already done. Do you really think that I could have talked to the Almighty the way I did, if He hadn't, in fact, already conceived that Thought inside of His Being? Remember, He is the Thought, we are the Doing. He is the Sea, we are the Wave. He is the Symphony, we are the Note. Everything is already Perfect Here,
mi hijito.
You go home and be with Lupe. Yours is the true test of my bringing the Devil and God Together, for you are in the midst of the storm of Living Life,
la Vida.
Go with my blessing,
hijo de mi corazón.
And when you get home, Lupe and you pray for me,” she added, making the sign of the cross over herself.

“We will,” said Salvador, hugging his mother, “we'll pray with all our heart and soul.”

Then he was on his way and he was feeling ten feet tall! Oh, his old
mama
just knew how to bring Heaven down Here to Earth!

THAT EVENING
when Salvador came into Carlsbad and turned in to the avocado orchard, he could feel a difference half an orchard away. The Father Sun was going down and the whole western sky was painted in beautiful colors of pink and gold. Lupe and their little dog,
Chingon,
came out to greet Salvador. It became a magic moment of hugs and kisses with the windows of their little
casita
all lit up behind them.

“Thank you for calling that you'd be late. That was wonderful, Salvador.”

“You're welcome,
querida.
I didn't want to cause you any worry after all you went through with the sheriff. My God, Lupe, we were making whiskey in the sheriff's own house. Can you beat that?” Then it hit him like a
rayo
—a lighting bolt. “Lupe!” he yelled excitedly, “this is what my mother is talking about! You, Lupe, brought peace to your soul when you faced that sheriff. That's why you were able to think so clearly, see. The Devil didn't have a hold of you.”

Lupe had no idea what Salvador was talking about. It was quickly getting cold. The last of the Sun was blinking in and out of the avocado leaves as it slipped down into the sea.

“Hurry,” she said. “Come inside with me. I have a surprise to show you.”

Walking in, Salvador could smell something very delicious cooking. And there was a bright yellow canary singing in a cage.

“I bought a canary,” said Lupe, whistling to the bird. “Our mother always had one back home in her kitchen. And guess what, I'm cooking
chiles rellenos
again!”

“Oh, no,” he said, laughing.

“Oh, yes!” she said with conviction. “And this time, I know how to do it. I asked the woman at the grocery store. And she told me that I'd had the pan too hot last time, and that's why they exploded.

“You know,” she said, turning down the fire a little on their two-burner camp stove, “because I'd eaten so many of my mother's wonderful
chiles rellenos,
I thought that I knew how to cook them, but I didn't. Okay, get back!” she now said. “Here comes the first
chile
! A big, fat, long one and he better not jump!”

Saying this, she put the stuffed
chile
into the sizzling pork lard, and the big green
chile
danced about the frying pan, but didn't explode. No, it just settled in and began to cook in quick little jerks in the hot clean pork fat, singing a little hissing tune.

“I did it!” yelled Lupe excitedly.

“Yes, you did,” said Salvador.

“This is wonderful,” said Lupe. “But now, if only I can turn it over and cook it on the other side without it—oh, no, don't do that, you lousy fat
chile
! You stay over there on that side of the pan,” ordered Lupe, “so that there's room for me to get your friend into the pan, too.”

Salvador started laughing.

“What's so funny?”

“Well, we used to have a witch in our valley who everybody thought was crazy because she spoke to her fruit trees, and now here you are—”

“So you think I'm a crazy-witch because I'm talking to my big, fat—oh, no, don't you dare!” she said to the first
chile.
“You stay over there!”

“Here, let me help you,” said Salvador. “I think that the stove isn't level and that's why it keeps sliding to that one side of the pan.”

Salvador got a plate and turned it upside down and slipped it under the lower side of the stove. “There, is that better?”

“Yes,” said Lupe. “Now get back! Here comes
chile
number two! And he better behave, too!”

And she put the next
chile
in the pan, and it didn't explode, either.

“I did it again!” yelled Lupe, feeling so proud of herself. “I really did!”

“Yes, you did,” said Salvador. He was so happy to be home all alone with Lupe. It was a dream come true. This was all he'd ever wanted—a home with the woman he loved.

“Oh, Lupe,” he said, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck, “I'm so happy that we're alone in our little
casita.”

“No, don't do that now!” she yelled, pushing him away. “I'm busy cooking! You go over there and sit down!”

He laughed and sat down at the table. This was truly wonderful. He could actually feel the walls of their whole little house singing with joy. Something had truly changed.

“Where'd you get the bird?” he asked.

“At the market,” she said. “And I know I should've asked you first—because it cost a lot of money—but, well, he was singing so beautiful, that I just couldn't resist, Salvador.”

“Querida,
you don't have to be asking me if you can spend a little money here or there, you have your house money, remember.”

“The bird cost three dollars,” she said.

“Three dollars!” he said. “That's a fortune, Lupe! Most men are lucky if they make a dollar a day. But, but, well, I'm glad you did it,” he added. “He does sing like an angel.”

“Then you really aren't angry?”

“No, of course not, Lupe. This is your house,
mi amor,
our home, the nest that you are making for
our familia.”

“Oh, Salvador!” she said, hugging him.

“By the way, Lupe, I forgot,” he said as they hugged and kissed, “I promised
mi mama
that we'd pray for her. You see, she's doing a great miracle tomorrow in church.”

“In Corona?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then we better pray for her right now, Salvador,” said Lupe, putting down her big spoon and knife.

And so Salvador and Lupe prayed for Doña Margarita as the last of the Father Sun went blinking over the horizon and the whole western sky turned silky-soft with colors of pink and gold and silver. Hundreds of red-shouldered blackbirds came swooping overhead on their way to the lagoon just north of Carlsbad. Another glorious day had come to pass.

THAT HOLY NIGHT IN CORONA,
meaning the crown, there was a wondrous display of shooting stars flying across the Heavens, then in the early morning—just before daybreak— came some great big, soft clouds with gentle rain, washing the Earth and Rocks and Trees, gifting New Life to all the Land.

Hearing the raindrops drip-dropping outside of her window, Doña Margarita stirred in her sleep, beginning to awake little by little. She stretched and yawned and listened to the soft, gentle rain washing the Earth. She'd had a wonderful night. She'd slept like an Angel.

Sitting up, Doña Margarita saw that the cat was curled up at the foot of her little bed. It was Luisa's cat, but of late the little female cat had been coming over more and more to bed-down with her. After all, pets instinctively knew when family members needed help in their spiritual quest.

“Okay, wake up,
gatita,”
she said to the cat. “We have work to do today, eh?”

At first the little calico cat didn't want to move, but finally she was up on all fours, stretching and yawning, too. Doña Margarita and the she-cat actually looked quite a bit alike. They were both old and mangy-looking, but still pretty quick once they got their old bones warmed up.

The soft, gentle rain continued making a quiet drip-dropping music outside Doña Margarita's window as she walked across her little shack in the dark and lit a candle with a big wooden match. It was cold, so she put some paper and kindling into the wood-burning stove, lit the paper with the candle, then got some water going for coffee.

She smiled. Today, after so many years, she was finally going to meet with
Dios,
Himself, in the little stone church, and the Almighty was going to have an answer for her concerning
el Diablo.
She laughed, shaking her head. Sometimes she really couldn't believe the situations into which she got herself. Luisa was right. She really wasn't anything but a crazy-
loca
old woman.

She laughed again and blew on the little flames that had taken hold. Little by little she got the fire in the stove going pretty good. She added some sticks, blew a couple more times, then got her shawl and put on her old
huaraches
so she could go out to the outhouse.

At the door, she picked up her rosary, her Bible, and took her candle and went out the door. Outside, Doña Margarita was taken by surprise. Standing in the rain were a half dozen
gente
—mostly women—with lit candles, too, waiting for her under the avocado tree.

“Eh,” she said, with a little happy smile, “but what are you all doing, standing in the rain? Did you come to accompany me to the outhouse? Well, I'm sorry, but it's only a one-seater. So out of my way.”

Laughing, the people parted like the Red Sea and the old Indian woman hurried past them into her outhouse. Closing the door, her sounds came instantly; big, full, strong
pedo-
farts and
caca
without any embarrassment.

One of her old lady friends had a cup of coffee waiting for Doña Margarita when she came out of the little outhouse. She accepted the cup and got underneath the big avocado tree with
la gente
and she sipped her coffee in big air-sucking sips as they all watched the birthing of the new day. There was thunder and flashes of lightning in the distance.

Little by little Doña Margarita got to feeling better once again. Last night, the Devil had gotten pretty unsure and he'd caused quite a stir. But Doña Margarita had held strong with her Faith in the Eternal Goodness of the Almighty, and she'd held the Devil's hand through his outbursts and gotten him to calm down.

“All right,” she said, finishing her coffee, “I'll just wash my face, then we're on our way
con el favor de Dios.”

She put down her cup on the stack of firewood under the avocado tree, went inside, washed her face, then came back out. More people had gathered. They now walked briskly to church.

From inside of her home, Luisa watched her mother and her dozen old friends go up the dirt street and out of the
barrio.
Luisa wanted no part of them. In her opinion, they were just a bunch of old, toothless women and a few crippled, old men with a herd of grandchildren. Some of these women and men were even older than her mother—
gente de la Revoluction
—with missing legs and arms and scarred faces. Luisa just couldn't understand why they'd be starting up all this trouble with God, Himself. Hell, they were lucky just to be alive!

Luisa came out of her house and watched them continue up the street with their limps and crutches as lightning illuminated the whole Father Sky in the east. Part of her really wished that she had a little more faith so she could join them, but she didn't. She'd just seen too much terror to have much faith in the eternal goodness of life or God. Tears came to her eyes. She'd seen her brothers and sisters killed all around her, and her first husband Jose-Luis, the love of her life, shot at their dinner table by two little thieving soldiers trying to steal their food.