Vigil

by Cecilia Samartin

  When the afternoons were mild, I often took the children to the park only a few blocks from the house. I’d pack Jessie up in her stroller, and Teddy would stand on the platform between the carriage and handles when he got tired. We spent many happy hours ambling up and around the jungle gym, running between the trees, or lying back and watching the squirrels scamper about over our heads. Upon our return, we always entered the house through the back entrance, where Millie was certain to have a snack waiting for us in the kitchen. If she felt the need for a nap, she’d leave the back door open, so I never bothered to bring my key.

  On one such afternoon, the children and I had just made our way to the back of the house when I saw a man standing on a chair attempting to squeeze himself through the kitchen window, but he was stuck with half his body inside and half of it out. I didn’t know what to do, but I wasn’t too frightened because the pudgy intruder wore a suit and dress shoes. Teddy started to scream when he saw the man and Jessie followed his example, which caused the man to teeter on his feet and the chair to topple over, leaving him with his feet dangling several feet from the ground. He started to call out and flap his hands and feet about in the air as though he were trying to swim.

  I approached slowly. I could see that his broad face was puffy and red from overexertion and that, although he looked to be only in his thirties, he was nearly bald, with a neat band of dark hair encircling his head from ear to ear.

  Moments later Millie appeared in the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and irritated that her nap had been interrupted. When she saw the distressed man, she threw up her hands and rushed to the window. “For goodness sake, Benson, what in the world are you doing?”

  Seeing us outside, Millie unlocked and opened the back door, and Teddy ran into the kitchen and stared up into his face. I followed with Jessie still in the stroller.

  “Uncle Benson!” Teddy cried. “Uncle Benson, you look silly!”

  “I’m sure I do,” he replied sheepishly.

  Millie opened the window while I went outside and placed the chair back under his feet, and in moments he was free. Still slightly bent and rubbing his sore back, he chuckled and explained to Millie that Adam had invited him to dinner and that he’d come early. The back door was locked so he thought he’d let himself in through the kitchen window as he’d done so many times before.

  “Didn’t I unlock it? Oh, I’m getting forgetful,” Millie said as she wiped the dust from his suit jacket. “But, honestly, you boys weren’t more than twelve when you came in through the window like that.”

  “Well, I’ve definitely put on a bit of weight since then, and I’m nowhere near as limber, either.” I was immediately set at ease by the kindly expression in his eyes, accentuated by his droopy teardrop-shaped lids.

  “You must be Ana,” he said, turning to me. “Adam told me how great you are with the kids.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, wishing that I could say I’d heard Adam speak of him as well, but Mr. Trellis rarely spoke to me about anything unless it pertained to the children.

  Millie put a pot of coffee on for our visitor, while Teddy rushed upstairs. I was certain that he’d return moments later with a favorite toy to show Benson. I gave Jessie her afternoon bottle while Millie and Benson chatted. From their conversation I gathered that Benson and Mr. Trellis had been friends since childhood and that they still played golf together from time to time.

  Mr. Trellis arrived home a short while later and when he saw his friend sitting with us at the kitchen table, his eyes lit up. For a moment it looked as though a dark veil had been lifted from his face and that all the deep-hearted worry he carried around with him had suddenly vanished. I thought he looked astonishingly handsome. He asked Benson to join him in the study, and Benson excused himself as Millie waved him off with a cheerful smile, telling him that she’d never seen him looking so happy and well.

  Once they were safely out of earshot, her smiled dropped and she said, “That poor miserable little man. You’d never know it by looking at him, but he’s quite a successful attorney. Brilliant when it comes to books, but quite stupid when it comes to everything else.”

  “He seems very nice.”

  “That’s his problem. He’s so nice that he lets women walk all over him. He’s been kicked in the head so many times it’s a wonder he has any hair left at all.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said, careful to take the bottle from Jessie’s mouth without waking her.

  “And it doesn’t help that he still lives with his mother,” Millie said, shaking her head in dismay as she began to organize ingredients for the evening meal. “Can you imagine a thirty-five-year-old man who still lives with his mother?” With eyes glittering she said, “And you should see how he gets around Lillian. At the mere mention of her name his ears turn bright red, and whenever she walks in the room I’m always afraid he’s going to drop from a heart attack. You’ll see what I mean at dinner tonight. It’s really quite amazing.”

  Sister Josepha placed her hand on Ana’s forearm. “Ana, dear, are you all right?”

  Ana widened her eyes, suddenly aware that the prayer had finished and that she’d lost track of the conversation. “Yes, I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  “Sister Josepha was just telling me that you’re thinking about going away to New Mexico. Is that true?” Jessie asked, her eyes wide with worry.

  “Well, yes, but I haven’t made any final decisions yet.”

  “Don’t you like it here anymore?”

  “Of course I do,” Ana said, glancing at Sister Josepha. “And there’s no need to worry about any of that yet.”

  “But I do worry, Nana,” Jessie said. “You know how I worry about you.”

  Sister Josepha stood up and turned on the teakettle. “Now where is it that you’re planning to attend university?” she asked as she rummaged about the cupboards for tea bags.

  “Vanderbilt,” Jessie answered with a pout. “I’ll be applying in a couple of months.”

  “And where is that again?” she asked, dropping tea bags into three empty mugs.

  “Tennessee,” Jessie replied.

  “I may be wrong,” Sister Josepha said cheerfully, “but isn’t Tennessee closer to New Mexico than it is to California?”

  “I suppose,” Jessie replied, unconvinced. “But this is home, and I like to think of Nana being here and not off in New Mexico somewhere. And doesn’t it get very cold there in the winter? Nana doesn’t like the cold. Isn’t that right, Nana?”

  “Well, it depends,” she said, looking up toward the ceiling. Benson’s visit had lasted longer than she expected, and it was almost time for Adam’s medications.

  “I like warmer climates too,” Sister Josepha replied, placing three mugs of tea on the table. “But you must admit that there’s something energizing about the cold. It seems to make the blood run quicker through the veins, and the brain work more efficiently.”

  “I suppose,” Jessie said reluctantly, turning to look at Ana, who again was lost in her thoughts.

  After that first day, Benson visited often and we became fast friends. As time passed, I realized that in his company I felt as I did when Carlitos and I played together at the river, saying whatever came to mind, laughing at jokes only we understood and making exaggerated proclamations that made sense nowhere else but in our private universe.

  “If you marry someone else, I’ll have to drown myself in the river,” Carlitos would say.

  “And if you drown yourself in the river, I’ll throw myself down from the highest mountain,” I’d reply.

  “And if you throw yourself down the highest mountain, I’ll cover my entire body in kerosene and burn myself alive.”

  “How can you do that when you already drowned yourself in the river?” I’d ask.

  And Carlitos would smile sheepishly. “That’s right. I forgot,” he said. “Well, forget about the drowning part. I’d rather burn myself alive instead.”

  “Ana, for the love of God, don’t touch it!” B
enson exclaimed. He was splayed out on the couch in the front room with his leg propped up on a pillow. Teddy stood next to me wide-eyed, clutching my hand. Benson and Mr. Trellis had just returned from a day of golf, and Mr. Trellis had gone to the kitchen for some ice.

  I turned to Teddy. “Why don’t you find Jessie? Millie must have your lunch ready by now.” Reluctant to leave the drama so soon, Teddy took several hesitant steps toward the door and then ran off to do as I asked.

  “Poor kid,” Benson muttered. “He probably thinks his uncle Benson has lost all his marbles, and to think that this may be his last memory of me.”

  “Oh Benson,” I said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  His eyes screwed up in his face, and his hand trembled as he pointed to the leg in question—a chubby, stout leg that looked comical in plaid shorts and socks. “See how much more swollen it is compared to the other leg?” he asked.

  “I don’t see any swelling at all,” I replied.

  “Of course you do,” he retorted. Then he flopped his head back, already defeated. “It’s a blood clot. I know it is. My father died very suddenly of a blood clot to the lung. It probably started just like this.”

  “Does it hurt?” I asked, taking a seat next to the injured leg.

  “It’s excruciating,” he replied, lifting his head so that I could appreciate his agony.

  “I’m sure the ice will help,” I said.

  “An ice pack can’t save me now.”

  I gave his sick leg a friendly if irreverent pat on the knee. “I’d better go see if the children made it to the kitchen.”

  “No, stay here with me, Ana,” he said. “I feel so much better when you’re near. And…and just in case you-know-who is lurking about, I don’t want to deal with her on my own.”

  “Well, if you mean Ms. Lillian, she’s gone out shopping. And when she’s been out shopping, she usually comes home in a very good mood.”

  “Sssh, do you want to provoke the evil spirits?” he asked, glancing nervously at the door.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you so afraid of Ms. Lillian?”

  He shrugged. “I guess women, especially attractive women, always make me feel ridiculous in some way. In high school Adam and Darwin always had the prettiest girls swarming them and they never gave me a second glance. But if one of them should miraculously look my way, I instantly became a fumbling idiot. Honestly, it’s as if I forgot how to speak, how to swallow and breath.”

  “That’s very sweet,” I said.

  “No, it’s dangerous,” Benson replied, his eyes round. “One time I ate twenty-seven hotdogs all at once just to impress a lovely young lady at the carnival. I spent three days in bed with a bellyache and I’m certain she didn’t even know my name. It’s safer for me to keep my distance.” Benson lifted his head. “You know something? You may be the only woman I’ve known who doesn’t make me feel foolish.” I was about to speak when he stopped me. “And don’t tell me again that you’re small and plain because as far as I’m concerned you’re even more beautiful than a woman like Lillian. There’s something about you, Ana. Everything around you seems to glow.” Remembering his ailment, he flopped back on the couch, breathing deeply as though he were at the end of life’s journey. “Oh, I suppose you just think I’m a silly little man.”

  “Of course not,” I replied, touched by his words. “I’m very fond of you, Benson.”

  “But not fond enough to leave all of this and go away with me, are you?”

  I laughed to hear him ask such a thing, and he frowned. “Of course, I don’t for a minute believe that Adam would ever let me take you away. He admires you too much to let you go.”

  It was overwhelming to think that Mr. Trellis would make any comment about me to his oldest and dearest friend, let alone a positive one.

  “Do you doubt that he admires you?” Benson asked, lifting his head again to look fully into my reddening face.

  “I don’t think Mr. Trellis gives domestic matters much thought,” I replied, uncomfortable with the direction our conversation was taking, but Benson persisted.

  “You’re wrong. Adam may not always show it, but he cares deeply about his family and his home, and he considers you to be a member of it. He’s told me more than once that he and the children would be lost without you. And sometimes I think,” Benson said with a furtive flutter of his bushy eyebrows, “that he’s jealous of our relationship.”

  “Benson, the things you say.”

  “It’s true,” he returned. “As happy as I’d be if you left with me, I’m certain that Adam would be equally devastated.”

  I shook my head, overwhelmed and flustered by his words, and I tried to laugh it off. Just then Mr. Trellis entered the room, both amused and somewhat annoyed by his friend, who started to moan anew about his impending death. “It’ll be the first time I’ve heard of anybody dying from a strained tendon,” he said while placing the ice pack under Benson’s knee. “I suppose I’ll have to find a new golf partner if this continues.”

  Benson moped but cooperated with the first-aid intervention. “I’m telling you it’s a blood clot. I’m certain of it.”

  Mr. Trellis wiped his brow. He’d been out in the bright sunshine all afternoon, yet he was pale. “Of course. I’ll let Peter know that you won’t be joining us next week. Have you considered amputation?” Despite his mocking tone there was something in his voice, an unspoken sadness just beneath the surface. I suddenly yearned to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but of course, I didn’t move a muscle.

  It was then that Lillian swept into the room, laden down with several shopping bags and boxes emblazoned with the names of strange men I’d never heard of before like Tom Ford, Michael Kors, and Jimmy Choo. When Millie informed me later that these were designers and that one handbag might cost as much as five thousand dollars, I was speechless. Five thousand dollars would’ve fed my entire family in El Salvador for several years.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” she said, her face flush. “My car is absolutely crammed with bags. Would you boys help me bring the rest of them in?”

  Mr. Trellis stood up with a sigh, and to my surprise, Benson immediately swung his injured leg off the couch and bounded toward the door behind him. He was hunched over and limping a bit, but he was able to keep up without too much difficulty.

  “What happened to you?” Lillian asked. “You look like the hunchback of Notre Dame.”

  Benson chuckled nervously. “Oh, it’s nothing, just a little twinge,” he said.

  “If you ask me, you’ve put on too much weight,” Lillian said, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

  It seemed that Benson was bloating and expanding before our very eyes just to appease her. Then he hobbled out to the car for more bags, and I noticed that his ears had turned a deep shade of red.

  That same evening, after the children were asleep and the house was quiet, I lay in my bed and tried to sleep as well, but every time I closed my eyes I saw the wounded expression in Mr. Trellis’s eyes. It worried me deeply, although I wasn’t sure why it should. I told myself that it was because I knew about Lillian’s betrayal and that I’d played a role in keeping him from finding out about it. But I sensed that there was something more.

  As I lay in bed I heard a creaking sound upstairs, on the third floor. It continued for several minutes, and I got up to make sure that Teddy and Jessie were still in their beds and was relieved to find them both sound asleep. I tiptoed out of the nursery and down the corridor. From there I saw a faint light glowing in the study across the courtyard and suspected that Mr. Trellis was reading late into the night. Millie said that in order to keep making money “by the truckload” as he did, he had to keep up with all the latest financial news. “He has the Midas touch,” she said. “And thank God for that or else we’d both be out of a job with the way Her Majesty likes to spend his money.”

  At that moment I was startled by a loud banging sound coming from up above. It occurred to me that a
possum could be making a nest up there or perhaps a family of cats. And if Millie discovered them before I did, she’d immediately call the exterminator and have them destroyed.

  I returned to my room for the flashlight that I kept in my nightstand drawer and proceeded toward the service stairs. I peered up the stairwell and turned on my flashlight, which instantly banished the darkness, but the murkiness that surrounded me was hardly comforting. When I reached the third floor, I heard cockroaches scuttling about and caught sight of their shiny backs as they frantically scrambled for cover. I swallowed hard and reminded myself that in El Salvador the cockroaches were much bigger and the spiders and rats made the ones here look like gnats. I pressed on.

  The floorboards groaned as I walked over them, and the darkness amplified every little sound, as did my growing anxiety. I was partway down the corridor and hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual when I became aware of what sounded like rustling paper. I stood very still and held my breath to determine that it was coming from the storage room and that some kind of animal was building a nest. Once I knew what it was, I’d be able to plan a humane way to get rid of it.

  I cautiously walked down the corridor and slowly opened the door. I was surprised to see a faint eerie glow emanating from behind a stack of boxes at the far end of the room. The light wavered over everything, and when I glanced at the mannequins it seemed that their torsos were twisting in an effort to wrench themselves free of their stands. My throat tightened and a cold numbness overtook me. No animal could produce a light like this—and then my flashlight slipped from my sweaty hand and crashed to the floor. I was immediately blinded by a flash of light and I stumbled back, knocking over a pile of books and disturbing some furry creature that scrambled over my feet. I shrieked and turned to run out of the room, but I hit the wall again and again, unable to find the door through which I’d just entered. All at once I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder pulling me back.