Across the Great River

by Irene Beltrán Hernández

  Once I step inside I see no one around, so I rush upstairs. I put the key to our door and fly through it bolting it securely behind me. I back away from the door slowly, trying to remember what Anita said about bad signs. I put Pablito on the mattress and sit for a moment trying to catch my breath. A light tap on the door makes my skin jump and after a long time I stammer, “Who is it?”

  “Me, Anita.”

  “Anita!” I shout. “I’m glad you are here.” I unbolt the door and rush to give her chunky figure a great hug.

  “You miss me. That is good!” She chuckles, then glances at Pablito, who now lies upon the mattress half asleep.

  I pull her inside and quickly bolt the door, then turn and say, “Did you have a hard time finding us?”

  “No, it was fairly easy.”

  I give her another hard squeeze.

  “My, my, barely five days. You really missed old Anita.” She pushes me back gently and studies my face. “What is wrong, girl? You shake, little one.”

  I am about to tell her when there are loud knocks on the door. They startle me so that I feel I have jumped right out of my sandals. Anita does not budge. I look up to her for guidance.

  She stares at the door with eyes as wide as a scared cat’s. She feels something, of that, I am sure. She slowly lifts one finger to her lips and motions for me to keep quiet. Again, the loud knocks crack upon the door. I see Anita glance back at the dozing Pablito and then back at the door.

  “Maybe it’s Mama,” I whisper.

  Anita seems to float magically across the floor. Once she reaches the door she starts spinning around and around, faster and faster. She stops abruptly and glares with bulging eyes, but I cannot tell if she is staring at or through the door. She makes wide sweeping motions with her hands, like half-moon shapes, then spins one way rapidly, making her skirt fan out above her knees, and then she pivots the other way very slowly and the skirt comes back down to her ankles.

  A low snake hiss escapes her clinched lips and grows louder as her arms circle wide over her head. She quickly steps back and freezes, with both arms outstretched to the heavens. Deep throaty moans jump rapidly out of her neck, growing louder, then suddenly changing into low cries like those of a kitten. Then she is still and silent. Red marks seem to crease her forehead and her shoulders stiffen. Within moments the sounds of heavy footsteps move away from the door.

  Anita collapses before me like a statue crumbles with age. She falls to the floor on her knees and her head hangs to her chest. Her breathing is heavy and she is covered with sweat. I run to help her, but she motions for me to let her sit for a while. I sit beside her, watching her chest and stomach heave. After a while she speaks slowly. “He will not bother you again. It was wise of you not to speak or he would have known you were here.”

  “Anita, why did you wave your arms like that?”

  “I put the evil eye on him. Evil fights evil and he will not bother you anymore.”

  “How do you know, Anita?”

  “Because I can see what others cannot. Evil has to be taken care of by someone who has God powers.”

  “But Anita! I have not been afraid all week long… that is until I saw him today. At first I was not sure, but I remember him from when we crossed the river, maybe it was the way he wore his sleeves.”

  Her smile slowly fades. “Then he wants something that you or your Mama possess.” She stares into the distance for some time, then breaks into a wide smile, as if she has forgotten about the man. She pats my knee encouragingly.

  “Anita, he made me feel cold all over,” I add.

  “That is the way your body warns you of danger. Listen to it, for it sends little messages warning us of things to happen.”

  “What would have happened?” I ask.

  She shrugs, “Perhaps, he would have harmed you and the boy. Then your mother would have been alone in the world.”

  “Do you mean, kill us?”

  Anita nods, then goes to Pablito, who is now stirring. I sit on the mattress and wonder how Anita knows all these things. I have heard tales in the old village of these blessed people who have powers and are capable of changing every day life with one stroke of the hand.

  I watch her sitting there, bouncing Pablito up and down. I have seen her take my mother’s life in her hands and cure her. I have seen her heal like a medicine man, and I have seen her fight evil with her own hands. Yet, she is a simple woman who takes pleasure in post cards and little boys. I understand that she has much power, but I do not fear her.

  Anita looks up from playing with the baby and says, “It would be best if you told your Mama about this man and what has happened here.”

  “If you think so, Anita. But, why worry her over nothing?”

  “If you call your life nothing, then so be it. But, all mothers have a right to know the dangers that surround and befall their children.”

  I nod that I understand and she goes back to playing with Pablito.

  When Mama arrives she greets Anita with a hug. “Thanks for coming for the weekend, Anita.”

  “I missed the young ones so. It is good that I came when I did, too.”

  “What do you mean?” questions Mama, who looks over at me.

  “Mama,” I blurt out, “there was a strange man knocking at the door. I believe he is the man Papa paid the money to before we crossed the river. He frightens me.”

  “What did he want?” She turns to Anita for the answer.

  Anita hesitates, then looks at Mama closely. “Oh, I am sure it was nothing. Probably selling something. We did not answer the door.”

  “Good. Kata, you must never answer the door unless you know who it is. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mama.” I look at Anita straight in the face and she winks back at me. Perhaps Anita knows best. After all, Mama is already biting her nails and twisting a lock of hair that has fallen forward.

  “Come. I have brought fresh cheese for us and pastry for the children.” Anita gently takes Mama’s arm. “And a bottle of home-made wine for us señoras.” She pulls the things from her basket and chuckles loudly. “I have also brought some eggs to sell at the market tomorrow.”

  “Mama,” I shout, “can I go to the market with Anita?”

  Mama smiles, “We will all go, Kata. I have some shopping to do also.”

  The morning air is still crisp when we set out for the market. We walk at a slow pace so that Anita and Mama can keep up. Pablito and I peek into each shop window as we pass.

  The market is busy with stands filled with people selling corn, eggs, tacos and many things that grow on small ranchitos. Carts, wagons, horses, burros and trucks are almost as numerous as the people that mill around buying and selling.

  I grab on tightly to Anita’s skirt for fear that I will lose her in the crowd. Mama carries Pablito so that he will not be hurt by the many bags that people carry.

  Anita points to the water fountain that is in the center of the plaza. “We’ll find a spot there under the tree.”

  We push and pull our way over to the tree. Once there, the people make room for us as they greet Anita happily. “Good to see you, Doña Anita. Sit here next to me,” says a woman who holds a baby nursing at her breast.

  “Many thanks, Doña Marta. How is the little one?” questions Anita as she lays out her blanket and eggs. “Kata, I birthed that baby. It was a fine birth, too,” chuckles Anita. “I wish you could have been there.”

  “He’s a pretty baby, Anita,” I say, wishing I had been there, too.

  A man passes with candy-coated apples. Anita whistles for his attention and then calls him over. “Give me two apples for the children.” From her skirt pocket she pulls out her coin purse and pays the man. She hands me an apple, then one to Pablito.

  “I have never seen such sticky red apples,” I say as I kiss Anita on the cheek.

  We sit there eating our apples while Anita sells her eggs. Mama leaves to look for things she needs. By lunch time, Anita has sold all her eggs and she
pulls out her purse and puts all her coins in it. Then she rises saying, “I will go find your mother. Stay here with Doña Marta until I return.”

  “Yes, Anita,” I say.

  Soon they return, loaded with flour tortillas filled with minced barbecue meat. As we eat we sit and watch the men and women of the town tending to their business. I watch Mama, too, as she scans the crowds searching for Papa. Each time a tall man with a mustache walks by, she stiffens and rises to her knees to get a better glimpse. A heavy sigh escapes her lips and she sits down again to finish her lunch.

  I leave with Mama to buy some fabric. I hold tightly to her hand as she leads me through the rows of stands. Finally we arrive at the right stand and she begins checking through the bolts of fabric, searching for the right color and price. “Kata, we need to make you a new skirt. Come help me pick the color.”

  All the colors and bolts of fabric soon confuse me, so I look out into the crowd. I see a tall slender man with a thick mustache hurrying by. I follow him, hoping he might be Papa. He stops at several stands down the row. “Papa!” I shout, but when he turns it is not my Papa.

  “Kata!” yells Mama. “Katarina! Where are you?”

  I turn and hurry back to the fabric stand.

  “Kata, don’t leave like that, you might get lost,” scolds Mama.

  “I just thought I saw Papa, but it wasn’t him.”

  She puts down the bolt and looks at me. “I know how you feel child, but stay close to me. I’d hate to lose you, too.”

  “Yes, Mama,” I answer, looking up into the faces of each tall man that passes.

  That afternoon we are walking back to our room, seeking shelter from the scorching sun. Anita and I walk ahead, holding hands. Mama and Pablito follow at a snail’s pace.

  “This has been a very good day!” I declare.

  Anita smiles, then answers, “Well, I wish you many more such good days.”

  “Anita, there are still many things I wish to do and to see. Most of all, I want Papa to come back. I want to learn how to read and write and how to sing!”

  “My! What a long list!”

  “There’s more … like being a healer like you. Perhaps a nurse or maybe a teacher. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid those wishes will take a little doing. Yet, with lots of patience and determination, who knows what can happen.” She reaches over and pinches my cheek.

  “Anita, do you think that they are all dreams like Papa’s?”

  “Kata, any thing is possible if one so wills it. But, you are the one that will have to work hard at it.”

  “Yes, it is so. I have lots to learn about this strange land.” I take her hand. “Sometimes I forget that I’m no longer in Mexico.”

  Anita chuckles, “That’s very easy to do in this little town with its plaza and market which are so much like the ones in Mexico. You see, the people here are mostly Mexicans, but they are born on this side of the river and that makes them Mexican-Americans. You were born on the other side of the river and that makes you a native Mexican.

  “But Anita,” I argue, “everyone speaks Spanish.”

  “Language has nothing to do with it. There is a government that runs Mexico and there is a different government that runs the United States.” Anita chuckles on seeing me frown. “But, you will learn all about that in school.”

  “And when shall that be, Anita?”

  She shrugs, “That I cannot say.”

  “In my old village we have to pay money to go to school.”

  “Yes, I know that is so, but here school is free.”

  “How lucky for the children,” I add.

  “Still, in this country there are many children that do not attend school.”

  “I would gladly go, Anita, even if I had to walk miles.”

  “Yes, I know you would. Look, we are almost home.”

  We flop down on the steps to wait for Mama and Pablito to catch up. It feels good to sit in the shade, relieved of all our packages. Anita sits with her eyes closed, and I watch the wrinkled circles around her eyes wiggle like when a rock is thrown into a pond. Her nose moves back and forth like a rabbit’s.

  I hear boots stomp at the top of the stairs. I look up to see the tattoed man staring down upon me. I wince as I feel the evil from those eyes enter my body as chills crawl up my scalp. I throw myself against Anita, who has awakened. She stands quickly and stares up at the man. A hissing sound grows on her lips as she points her clawed fingers at him. He rapidly disappears into one of the rooms upstairs.

  Mama finds us wrapped around each other and staring at the top of the stairs. “What goes on here?” she asks.

  “Perhaps it is best if you move from this place,” warns Anita.

  “But why?” she asks.

  “As long as I am with you, you are safe, but I will worry for your safety when I leave.”

  Mama pulls me to her. “What has happened, Anita?”

  “That man is after something. It is twice that he makes his evil appearances and three times he has tried to approach the girl.”

  “But we have nothing of value,” adds Mama, stroking my hair.

  “People value different things. He might want to hurt you or the child … as men sometimes do.”

  We make our way upstairs slowly while Anita talks to Mama in hushed tones, as if they were sharing deep secrets. By the time we reach our room, Mama is shaking. “Yes … yes … we must move immediately.”

  “Let me take the children back to the ranchito. Don Juan will arrive Sunday afternoon to drive me back. I can take the little ones until you are resettled,” Anita begs.

  Mama sobs, “Oh, Anita. What else will happen to my little family?”

  “Ah! You are fortunate so far. You have work, and I can care for the children. Don Juan likes the money you give him to drive you to and from the ranchito, so it works out well for everyone. Be thankful for that!”

  “You speak the truth, Anita,” replies Mama. “And I believe you are right.” She turns to us. “Children, you rest now. Anita will stay with you while I go to speak with my lady boss. Perhaps she will know of a safer place to live. If not, I will send you back to the ranchito with Anita.”

  “Okay, Mama,” I answer.

  She dries her tears on the hem of her skirt, then hugs Anita. “Keep them safe until I return.”

  Anita locks the door after Mama leaves. “Rest now, a little sleep never hurt anyone.”

  I lie down next to Pablito. Anita covers us with a sheet and she sits on the mattress, humming a tune until I can no longer hear it. When I awake I notice Anita standing, glaring out the window. The sky is now dark. “Hasn’t Mama returned?” I ask.

  She seems startled by my voice. “No, come, for we must fix something for supper. It will help pass the time.”

  Anita connects the hot plate to the only electrical plug in our wall. She kneels on the floor, kneading dough for flour tortillas. Then she reaches over to test the hot plate with her finger.

  “What time do you think it is?” I ask.

  “It’s late enough. Now come, for the baby will be hungry.”

  She hands me a bowl with the dough and I divide it into small balls, then roll them into flat circles. I hand them over to Anita who puts them on the hot plate. “If you are busy, time passes quickly,” she mutters.

  We roll a fine stack of tortillas which Anita wraps in a cloth and sticks in a basket. “Now, I will cook some meat.”

  I watch as she drops chopped meat into a pan to cook. She covers the pan with the lid and sits back to wait. When the meat is done, she fills each tortilla with a little meat and adds each taco to a neat stack. “Now, another cloth to keep them warm for Mama,” she smiles.

  She stops wrapping them when she hears a big thump, as if something heavy has fallen on the stairs. I glance quickly toward the door. “What is that?”

  Again there is a heavy bang, as if something is thrown against the wall. This time Anita points to the floor beneath us. �
�It comes from down there.” She rises to her feet and stares at the door.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, rising too.

  “Stay here. Lock the door after me.”

  I grab tightly to her skirt. “Don’t leave us, Anita. Please.”

  “Be calm child. Now listen, I shall knock four times when I return. Do not let anyone else inside. Do you understand, Kata?”

  “If you say so, Anita,” I cry. She flies out the door and in the hall she waits until I have bolted the door, which I lean against with all my weight. It is as if the skin on my back is covered with biting black ants.

  Chapter Six

  The shadows from our small light seem to enlarge the room into a haunted house. My own shadow looms tall and thin before me, and the baby’s shadow seems overgrown like a stuffed toad. I hurry to pick him up, and as I do he senses my fear and hugs me tightly. I wait, watching the glowing orange light of the hot plate turn bright brisk red. Loud slams and thuds add to my fears. It seems as though the bottom of the floor is tearing away and the walls shake from under the strain.

  I want to unbolt the door and run out to the safety of the street, but I remember the strange man, and I remember what Anita bid me to do. Instead, I run to the mattress, grab Pablito and bury my face in the mattress until the floor stops shaking and all is still.

  Four loud knocks break the silence. I jump up and unbolt the door to find Anita standing with the sleeve of her dress torn and a long scratch from her eye to her chin, which bleeds onto her breasts. Anita carries Mama in her arms. She is limp as a doll. I stand speechless, unable to move as Anita carries her to the mattress and lays her down gently.

  “Mama! Anita! What has happened?” I cry as I bolt the door.

  “Hush!” hisses Anita as her eyes show a fearsome wild rage.

  The front of Mama’s blouse is ripped apart, as is her skirt. Her legs are bruised with deep patches of purple and red running along the inside. Deep welts along her arms lead to a bruise the size of my fist upon her cheek. Blood trickles from her mouth and onto her neck.