Across the Great River

by Irene Beltrán Hernández

  By the time Olga brings the ice cream, I have decided that the doctor does not care what his wife does nor does she care about him. The doctor must have read my mind, for when our eyes meet he looks quickly away.

  After I finish my ice cream, the doctor asks, “Kata, would you like to go for a walk with me?”

  “Yes!” I say quickly, for I do not want him to change his mind. I am tired of being inside and I long for the open air. I scoop up the remaining ice cream and stand. He takes my hand and leads me out of the dining room. He doesn’t bother to tell Pilar or Don Francisco that we are leaving, but I don’t think they will have noticed anyway.

  As we walk in the evening twilight I notice the doctor’s silence and say, “Cola del gato! Tail of a cat!” He was very much surprised, for no words had passed between us. “Does the cat have his tail in your mouth?” I ask. “You do not speak.”

  “I see.” He smiles and removes his pipe. “Well, Kata. I have my problems and worries to think about, as you can probably tell.”

  “But with all this wealth you should not have problems.”

  “That is not so, child. Even the rich have common problems.”

  “Still, I can see that you are not happy.”

  “Happy, a child’s word. Still, I believe I was the happiest when I was a poor medical student.” He stopped walking and leaned against a fence post.

  “You don’t like Pilar, nor does Olga, nor Nell. That must be part of the problem, or else you would smile more.”

  He laughs, “That’s three strikes against Pilar. But, Nell would dislike her the most.”

  “Yes, I believe they could have killed each other this afternoon. Nell left very quickly after Pilar blew smoke into her face. Have they always disliked each other?”

  “It’s all my fault. You see, I wanted to marry Nell long ago, but that was before Pilar came to live with me.”

  “That’s the reason they don’t like each other?”

  “What I should have done is sent Pilar back home and married Nell, but I chickened out, simply because I felt I owed Pilar’s family for financing some of my education.” He took a long puff and blew little circles of smoke into the air. “Also, Nell being Anglo, I felt that it might hurt my practice. Stupid, it was all so stupid.”

  “Did you ever kiss Nell?”

  “Yes, many times and I found it very enjoyable.”

  “My Mama and Papa kiss all the time. They say it’s fun, but I’ve never kissed a boy, just Pablito, my baby brother.”

  “Some day you’ll kiss a boy, but you must remember to marry from the heart, not the mind. The mind, you see, as brilliant as it is, plays tricks, but the heart remains true.”

  “I would have noticed that Nell and Anita do not like each other also.”

  “You have to understand that Nell is Anglo and she doesn’t understand lots of Mexican folk customs, but she tries to learn. Look how she’s mastered the Spanish language.”

  “Yes, she speaks good Spanish. I believe I like Nell much better than Pilar and I like Anita much better than Nell, but Mama and Papa I like best of all.”

  The doctor laughs, “You children! You make life so simple, as if it were a ladder to climb up and down.”

  I glanced up at him and studied his face for a second before I asked, “Why don’t you send Pilar home? Then you can take Nell and marry her.”

  “I doubt Nell would have me now. And besides, grown-up ways are not so simple, Kata. Would you trade your mother for another one if you didn’t like her?”

  “No, because she loves me,” I declare. “And Nell still likes you. I can see it in her eyes each time you pass her.”

  “Well, perhaps so, but I think deep inside Pilar loves me.”

  I shake my head as I climb onto the fence to sit. “I don’t think so, doctor. She likes Don Francisco more. Ask her yourself,” I suggest.

  He coughs and taps his heart. “I just might do that.” He lifts me off the fence and takes my hand. On the front porch he says, “Goodnight, Kata. Sleep tight.” He turns to the door and shouts, “Olga, please take Kata to her room.”

  From the top of the stairs I look back to see that he is still outside, looking up at the stars and rubbing the back of his neck. Once in my room, I hear a car engine start up. I dash over to the window to catch a glimpse of him putting the car into reverse. Poor doctor, I think, as I watch the tail lights of his car zip down the drive, like a wet snake disappering under a rock. Pilar probably doesn’t know that he has left, since her eyes are all wrapped up in Don Francisco.

  Chapter Nine

  I lie upon the umbrella bed thinking of Anita and Pablito. I can see him sucking his thumb as he lies asleep on the bed of straw. Anita will be lying on her back, snoring and gasping at the same time. The summer moonlight floods the room through open windows and a breeze freshens the air. I spread my arms out as far as they can go and still cannot reach the ends of the big bed. I wonder if Anita would snore in this bed or even if she could sleep confortably. I move over to one side of the bed. Yes, I think, there is plenty of room for both Anita and Pablito.

  I push the pillows off the bed and lay flat on my back, watching the ruffles above me sway gently as the breeze seems to kiss them goodnight. I wish Papa were here to kiss me goodnight. As I fall into sleep I hear Papa call to me as he used to do back in Mexico.

  Anita once said that dreams can be made real if one wishes it. I will wish for Papa to come visit me in my dreams tonight and for him to lift me into the air like he used to. I close my eyes tightly and clutch the pouch, forcing myself to think only of Papa. But the dream does not come nor does sleep. I snap my eyes open and slowly sit up. I turn over on my stomach and stare into the moonlight. Soon, I fall asleep.

  In my dream Papa comes, but he is wet and hungry. His eyes are huge and seem to stare into the distance. He cries for help as he runs to me with his arms outstretched, but he passes me as if I were not standing there at all. “Papa!” I scream, but he continues to run. I watch as he runs out of sight, growing smaller and smaller in the ghostly distance. My head hangs to my chest and my arms fall to my side. Papa has disappeared from sight and, in sadness, I turn to walk away.

  When I look up again, I see a small black object growing larger as it shortens the distance between us. I can see it is some sort of animal, a cat, a black cat. Dust rises as each of its paws pounce on the ground. It rapidly approaches me, but I cannot move out of its path. Perhaps it’s chasing Papa, I think, but its huge front paws knock me down on my back and pin me under them. The cat licks my face clean with its sponge-like tongue, as if tasting me, and then it crawls on top of my chest staring at my eyes and mouth, as if deciding which one to eat first.

  With each moment that passes the cat becomes heavier and heavier. Soon I am gasping for breath and I begin to struggle with it. I try to push it off with my arms, but it remains unmoveable, yet constantly staring at my mouth.

  “Anita!” I scream, as I cover my face with my arms. Immediately after I call out to Anita, the cat springs off of me. It scampers into the darkness and I awake covered with sweat and frozen in fear. Anita said to pray whenever I am frightened, so I pray over and over again until daylight floods the room.

  I awake when Olga enters the room. “Good morning,” she sings. “Did you sleep well?”

  I follow her movements with my eyes, not bothering to answer. I feel weak, so I close my eyes for a moment of relief.

  Olga closes the windows. “Not ready to rise? Well that’s fine. Sleep late, child. We have plenty of time before we visit the hospital.” She straightens the blanket, takes my hand. “My, you look pale.” She touches my forehead. “But, you’re not running a fever, which is good.”

  “Olga,” I whisper. “Stay with me until I sleep.”

  She chuckles, “If that’s what you want, but only for a moment. I have many other things to do.” She clamps her hand on my wrist and smiles down at me.

  When I awake I find that Olga has gone. Feeling better
, I dress myself and go downstairs. Olga is in the kitchen humming a tune. “What would you like to eat?” she asks. “I’ve made some fresh hot oatmeal.”

  I nod and sit where she directs. She continues to whistle as she serves me. “Eat quickly because we have to visit your Mama.” She brings me a cup of sweet coffee and some orange juice. “I called Doctor Mendez and told him you seemed a bit tired. He said to let you get all the sleep you needed, then to drive you to the hospital. I am to wait with you until your visit is over.”

  I take a spoonful of oatmeal, then glance up. “And, where is she … Señora Pilar?”

  “Ah, bad news. And I guess it could be good news, too. It seems the good doctor did not come home last night and the señora is very upset.”

  “She doesn’t seem to care for him anyway,” I add, taking a spoonful of oatmeal and putting it in my mouth.

  “Maybe, but she fears a scandal will hurt her precious family name … but that is none of our affair. Come on, child. Eat!”

  I slam my spoon down. “Olga!” I cry, “you hurry me so much that you’re beginning to tire me out!”

  On hearing my outburst, her hand comes down upon her heart as if she’d been stabbed. “I am sorry, child,” she says softly. “I must learn to slow down for my own sake. Sometimes I believe that I’ve worked here much too long. I don’t mean to act nervous, but Señora Pilar is always on my nerves,” she continues, as if talking to herself. “Before he married her, this house was gay with laughter and laziness. Miss Nell, she made him laugh a lot. Now he never laughs.”

  “Olga, he’s sad, that’s all.”

  “True, oh, but he needs to take his mind off his work. If he continues as he is, he will grow old before his time. You mark my words!” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Now that you’re finished, I’ll put my apron on the rack and we’ll be off. It’s nice to be going somewhere, since I seldom get a chance to leave this house.”

  “Yes, I’m ready to see Mama again,” I say, hoping that she is better.

  Olga and I find Mama unmoving, yet staring at the ceiling. I, too, look up searching for whatever she sees, but I find nothing of interest. Olga straightens Mama’s sheets while I talk about things that have happened since she fell ill. After ten minutes, Olga motions for us to leave and I kiss Mama goodbye.

  “I don’t think she’ll ever be well again, Olga.” I cry once we are out of the room.

  “Yes, she will, child. She needs time and lots of care.”

  “Anita said that too.”

  “Then she is a wise woman.”

  I take Olga’s hand, “And so are you, Olga.”

  That afternoon I play outside in the doctor’s large flower garden. My favorite spot is far removed from the rest of the garden. There stands a small house with benches that one can sit upon and gaze at various rocks and flowers. Olga finds me there.

  “Kata, come, it is almost time for supper.”

  I take her hand as we walk back toward the house. Olga does not seem to be in a hurry, instead she strolls glancing at flowers on each side of the walk. “Olga,” I ask, “will the doctor be here for supper?”

  She sighs, “Señora Pilar is eating out tonight and the doctor has other plans. You and I shall have supper together.”

  I am disappointed, for I liked speaking with him. “I wish he would come home, Olga.”

  “I spoke with him on the phone earlier, and he sounded very happy, lots gayer than I’ve seen him in a long time.” She puts her arm over my shoulder. “But, we shall have a very good supper tonight and it will be held in my favorite place … my own kitchen! Besides, with you here, I shall not be eating alone.”

  “You are right!” I clasp my hands. “I love your kitchen, Olga, and I hate that dining room. Have you a piece of cake in your kitchen?” I ask, winking up at her.

  “If there’s not a piece already baked, we can spend tonight making a fresh one.”

  “A whole cake! Can you show me how to make one, so that I can teach Mama when she gets well.”

  “I most certainly will.” She takes my hand and we walk slowly up the path toward her kitchen.

  That evening, Olga and I decide to make a chocolate cake. I pull up a stool and watch as Olga explains all the things that go into a cake. They are called “ingredients.”

  We continue working and are only disturbed by the sound of a car starting up. “The señora must be leaving,” says Olga without stopping her work.

  It is late when Olga and I sit together on stools to eat a slice or two of her cake. It is good, but not as delicious as Ramona’s.

  The black cat comes again that night. This time I fall harder into the dirt, and it is even heavier upon my chest. I kick with my legs and shove with my arms, but the cat stands strong, refusing to leave my chest. My eyes feel like bursting and I gasp for air with my mouth open wide. The cat seems to enjoy peeking down my throat and watching me struggle.

  When I scream Anita’s name, the cat jumps off my chest and disappears into the darkness. I lie still, trying to get air back into my empty lungs. Then I tremble and cry out loudly, “Anita!” I scream over and over again.

  “Katarina! What’s wrong?” questions Olga as she turns on the lights and pulls off the blankets. “You’re wet and shaking.” She covers me, then rushes out of the room. I hear her pounding on the door down the hall. “Doctor! Come quick! The girl is ill!” she yells.

  I try to sit up, but I cannot. The doctor rushes into the room. “Olga!” he orders. “Get these wet things off her. Do it quickly while I go downstairs to get my bag.”

  Olga’s fingers work quicky as she changes me into a clean gown. She carries me over to a big chair and sits me there while she makes the bed. “Don’t worry child. The doctor will take good care of you,” she says softly. She lifts me back into bed and makes sure that the blanket is snug around me. “Dear me, I wonder what’s taking him so long?”

  “Olga, please close the door and the windows. Don’t let that cat in here again. Please!” I beg.

  “Calm yourself, Kata. We don’t have cats here. The señora hates cats.” She turns as the doctor enters the room.

  “Move aside, man! I am needed here!” yells Anita.

  “You’ve come!” I cry out.

  She clutches her medicine bag to her chest and hurries to the bed. “I felt you needed me, Kata. Since last night I have had to fight the urge to come out here, but tonight I really knew that you needed me badly.” She puts her cloth bag down on the corner of the bed.

  Olga lifts her hand to her face and says, “Doctor, who is this?”

  The doctor ignores her question and walks to the bed. He puts his bag on the night table. “You can go, Olga. We’ll look after Kata.”

  Olga closes the door as quietly as she can. Anita pulls down the blankets and studies my chest and each of my legs.

  “Anita, where is Pablito?” I ask in a whisper.

  Anita smiles and pats my hand. “I sent for Don Juan to come stay while I make this trip in his truck.” Her smile fades. “I saw the cat in your dreams. A black cat with a black soul is no challenge for a small girl like yourself.”

  The doctor pulls up a chair closer to the bed and sits watching Anita work. He reaches over and takes my wrist while he stares down at his pocket watch.

  “Anita, I could not breathe.”

  “I must see your back.” She turns me gently and grunts, then straightens the blanket. She pokes around in her bag and finally pulls up a red scarf and carefully unties it. “This should do just fine. I guarantee you will sleep tonight.” In her hand she holds a large yellow lemon, the largest and brightest I have ever seen. She sits the lemon on the table and searches her bag for a small tan bottle. She opens it and sniffs. “A drop of this on your tongue before we apply the lemon.”

  It tastes bitter, and I pull away from her hold. I turn to the doctor, who sits back in the chair watching with curious eyes. Anita jerks the blanket from me with a quick snap of her wrist and then she pulls off the
gown. She rolls the lemon over every inch of my body. I scream out, for it feels as if she is rubbing a block of frozen ice over me.

  “Anita,” questions the doctor, “is this necessary?”

  “For the cure to work, it must be done. It hurts me too, doctor.”

  “But I don’t understand what this technique does.”

  “Someone has cast the evil eye upon her, and this ritual draws the evil from her body. This method is as old as the world and it works, it works.”

  The doctor rises and feels my forehead. “Perhaps you are just adding to her hysteria and upsetting her more.”

  “Perhaps!” snaps Anita. “But you shall have your time with her after I finish.” She stares at him until he turns his back and sits down again.

  Anita finishes rubbing me and makes wide circles with the lemon. It seems she is drawing a giant halo over my entire body, then she takes the lemon and carefully puts it in a glass ashtray that sits on the table near the bed. From her bag she pulls out a box of matches. She strikes one sets the flame under the lemon. The flame seems to want to die out, but Anita holds it firm to the lemon. Soon it seems the lemon begins to breathe, growing larger, then rapidly smaller. My eyes blur as Anita begins to chant under her breath, “Away with you, away to your world,” she says, over and over again.

  The lemon expands like a ballon being filled and presently it begins to hiss as if it has a slow leak. The flame becomes larger and burns the lemon until there is nothing left but a faint smell.

  “Remarkable!” exclaims the doctor as he rises to witness the disappearance.

  “Ah,” says Anita, “perhaps you will believe a little more in my medicine.” She turns, “Look, her color returns. Now she shall sleep well for many nights.”

  The doctor takes my wrist and studies his pocket watch. “Yes, I can see the difference in the pulse rate, but I still believe it is because she believes in you as a curer.”