Tortuga

by Rudolfo Anaya

  I turned to Danny. “No. I’m not ready. I can’t make the journey alone. Can’t you see! They’re not there!”

  “Shut up!” Danny shouted.

  “Let’s dump him and get outta here!” Tuerto cried.

  In front of me the headless turtle thrased angrily and made the water boil. It was waiting for its brother to return. But then I heard Salomón speak, and he too said I was not ready.

  Ah, Tortuga, Tortuga, I heard him say, you have come to the edge of the sea … you have run your race and suffered as much as any man … but you must turn back, you must face the blinding sun … you must cast off your shell and come to sing the songs of man …

  “Ready!”

  “Okay, push!”

  “No!” I shouted and dug in my feet.

  “Push!” Danny shouted, and the three of them heaved and sent me plunging into the cold, clear water. I closed my eyes and screamed as I felt the shock of the water. A choking mouthful of burning water filled my lungs. The chair tipped sideways and sank, but I remained afloat on the tossing water, buoyed by the cast.

  The momentum had pushed me towards the middle of the pool. I struggled to right myself, but it was useless, I remained face down, unable to turn. I held my breath and settled into the gentle, rocking motion of the water … the waves drummed against my ears. I flopped my arms and kicked with my legs until I was exhausted, but I couldn’t turn over. I realized I was going to drown, like a crippled turtle reaching the sea only to discover it can’t swim, I was going to drown in a few minutes …

  I opened my eyes and looked into the water … strands of moonlight swayed like golden seaweed in the dancing water. The light was gold, like the notes of a gentle melody … Knowing that I was going to die filled me with a sense of peace, as if after the momentous struggle and rage I had suddenly been taken into my mother’s arms, and there was no more care or need to fight … I felt as if I was falling asleep, until even the piercing pain in my lungs and the swollen veins along my neck throbbed with a gentle dull feeling.

  I thought I heard Salomón calling to me … and somewhere Filomón’s oars pushed against the water, then receded and left the silence of the water and its gentle massage. My grandfather appeared before me and told me to awaken slowly, because I was entering a new dream … my mother prayed to her saints, the lifeless, plaster statues that would remain forever with their backs to her because I hadn’t returned … and in the blinding light which flashed around me the girls of my first holy communion entered the water and swam like mermaids around me, singing a song of life, singing the song Ismelda whispered from the shore … I smiled and breathed the thin strands of golden water … and the water pushed through my nostrils like the bony fingers of la Llorona and crushed my lungs. I breathed for air and sucked in the sweet water, Tortuga’s pee, Josefa’s medicine … The lights flashed brightly, like thunder from the heavens, and the song of the innocent mermaids flourished like a choir of angels around me … Fragile bubbles of air escaped from my mouth and exploded on the calm surface as the strong liquid fingers of the water pried my mouth open … butterflies wove a song upon the tossing water …

  Then suddenly the water churned and bubbled madly around me, and someone shouted, Tor-tuuuuuuu-ga! Then strong hands lifted me out of the water. I gasped for air. I smiled. Rough hands lifted me over the side and stretched me out.

  “You crazy sonofabitch,” Mike muttered, breathing hard, wet … Before they pushed me on my stomach I recognized Ismelda in the faces which swarmed over me. I felt a terrific pressure on my back, felt the cast crunch, saw chunks of the wet plaster fall away, and I heard a lot of shouting as the foam and froth of the water came spewing from my mouth …

  “Is he all right?”

  “He’s breathing!”

  “Let’s get him into the other room!”

  “Easy now! Watch it!”

  “Breath in!” Dr. Steel shouted and placed the oxygen mask over my face.

  They lifted me and carried me into a small room across from the pool.

  “He’s going to be all right!” I heard Mike shout.

  “Get those goddamned kids outta here!” Steel shouted.

  “Hey, watch it! We could report you for cussing!” one of the kids shouted.

  “Yeah! Just cause you saved his life don’t mean nothin’!”

  The door closed behind me. I heard Mike shout that it was all over, I was fine, it was time to get back to the ward, and I heard a big cheer.

  Someone began singing, then the whole troop sang as they marched back to the ward:

  Poor ole Tortugaaaaa

  He never got a kiss

  Poor ole Tortugaaaa

  He don’ know what he missss …

  The nurse held my wrist and looked at her watch, and I had to smile because I thought for sure she was going to ask me if I had had my bm today. Ismelda massaged my wet legs and arms with a warm towel. Dr. Steel looked at the dripping cast and cursed. “I won’t even need a saw on this one,” he shook his head and pulled at the wet plaster. He cut through the wet cotton and gauze and tore apart the cast, ripping with a carelessness I had never felt in his hands before. He seemed to be looking for something, something hidden in the core of the cast. Ismelda helped him, snipping the cast away very carefully, as if she was helping a baby chick tear through its shell.

  When they were done I lay smeared with wet plaster and the filth which had coated the inside of the cast. Steel pulled the oxygen mask away and asked me how I felt. I nodded. The worst was over, I felt all right.

  “He sure looks like a wet turtle,” the nurse said to ease the tension.

  “What?” Steel asked. Beads of perspiration covered his forehead. He placed the cold stethoscope on my chest and listened. He looked at me, questioningly, and I knew what he was thinking but he didn’t ask anything.

  “Yeah,” he nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “You look like a bloody mess,” he smiled weakly, “but you’re okay. How do you feel? Any pain?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Well, the cast is gone,” he said. He looked at me and then at Ismelda, then he went to the sink and washed his hands. “I don’t think we’ll have to replace it—”

  “Good,” I answered and felt Ismelda touch my shoulder.

  “Clean him up,” he said to the nurse, “and get him back to the ward … Are the kids gone?”

  “Yes, doctor, Mike took care of that. They’re all back in the ward,” the nurse answered.

  “Damn kids,” he muttered. He took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, put it to his mouth, then he crumpled it and tossed it away. “It could’ve been worse,” he said. “You’re damn lucky, Tortuga …” He went out shaking his head.

  “You crazy turtle,” Ismelda whispered. Her eyes were wet with tears. “Why do you want to go swimming in the middle of the night—Thank God you’re safe …”

  She took the basin of hot water and soap from the nurse and said she would clean me. The nurse nodded and went out, but not before she gave me the shot the doctor had ordered. That and the drain of fatigue I felt in my muscles made me sleepy. I closed my eyes while Ismelda scrubbed away the crud which had built up beneath the cast. Her touch was like the reawakening of nerves, tender fingers touching flesh so long dead, a liquid fire spreading down my arms and legs.

  “I was staying in the girls’ ward when I heard the commotion … I don’t know how Mike found you but he did. The screams awakened the wards, you should have heard the kids … Look,” she said, and ran her fingers through my hair, “your hair has grown. Tomorrow I’ll come early and wash it …”

  “I couldn’t drown—” I murmured.

  “No, you can’t drown in Tortuga’s waters,” she smiled. “It’s not your fate … and now that the cast is gone you look like a lizard, so you’ll have to think about living on dry land,” she smiled.

  I nodded. Yes, the water had spit me out. I couldn’t drown in it. The water had rumbled and the mountain had groaned in the night
and its tremors had moved Mike, moved Ismelda, drawn the screams from their throats, cried the alarm and awakened the ward. I remembered hearing Salomón’s voice, too, so he had had something to do with Filomón rejecting me … Now I would have to return and see him, but now I could, because the dread had passed and I had discovered that I was afraid to make the journey across the ocean alone … I had made some connections which I needed to understand before I could travel with Filomón again … it was my fate, it was my destiny …

  But I had to create it, to create it out of Mike and Ismelda and Salomón and all the rest … that was the clue … to make some sense out of it … just like so long ago when the paralysis came I hadn’t died, and the movement had returned, for some purpose … but it was to be my purpose, not God’s purpose, not Mike’s, not Salomón’s, not the past which haunted me in my dreams … but my purpose … alone … sharing it with Ismelda …

  Her fingers washed away the layers of pain and sorrow and despair which had separated me from her and the others. She reached deep into the core of the invisible shell and shared my pain, the roots of sadness, and her touch let me know that I wasn’t alone … her touch was like the ripple on still water, the ripple which duplicates itself and reaches out … into eternity, touching all, encompassing everything with its gentle love. Her touch was magic. Her supple fingers rubbed life into my tired nerves. She sang a song and made my eyelids heavy with sleep.

  “… You are a lizard woman,” I remember saying.

  “Yes … we’ll live together in the sun,” she whispered.

  “Forever?”

  “Forever.”

  She lay her head upon my chest and sang a lullaby, a song of love:

  Sana, sana, colita de rana

  Si no sanas hoy

  Sanarás mañana …

  It was a song of peace … of love, a song which erased the dread of time and the past which had haunted me … Her long, dark hair wove a web, a web of dream in which I rested … from which I could see the waters of the mountain flowing into the river and winding their way south towards the sea … and the people of the water and the golden fish played in the gentle water …

  On the shore of the river Salomón stood … and all his children stood around him, dancing like leaves in the wind, dancing like seaweed dances in swaying water … and he sang this song …

  Once beside the stream of time and memory, Ismelda found a magic flute … the flute of a man who had crossed the desert to climb the magic mountain … She rested in the shade of the green juniper, and she sang a song of love … the wind played through the flute and made her moan … her lips were red and sweet with the juice of the prickly pear, the cactus fruit. The goats stood still and sniffed the air when they heard Ismelda’s moan … the lizards sat quietly in the sun. Ismelda shuddered in her dream, a pleasant tremor of magic and love, a liquid-dream which made the mountain smile. She moaned again, covered herself with wild oak leaves and rested on the juniper needle bed, and slept and dreamed again of the lizard-man who came to lie by her side and taste the sweet, red juice on her warm lips …

  17

  Mike and Ronco came in early the next morning.

  “How’s it goin’?” Ronco asked.

  “Okay,” I answered. Ismelda had come earlier in the morning and washed my hair and shaved the fuzz off my cheeks. I was still groggy from the drugs, but I felt good.

  “You look skinny without your cast,” Mike said. They tried not to look directly at me, so we wouldn’t have to talk about last night.

  “Hairiest looking turtle I’ve ever seen!” Ronco laughed then cleared his throat. My hair had grown almost to my shoulders.

  “Well, we’ll see you in the ward tonight,” Mike said. “We’ll have a party, celebrate—” They nodded, told me to take it easy, then raced out, shouting, “Algo es algo dijo el diablo!”

  The nurse who worked the isolation ward came in with a breakfast tray and I sat up and ate. She placed a valentine card on my tray and smiled. “The girls in the ward sent you this … they hope you get better,” she said.

  I had lost track of time; I had slept through Christmas and the new year, which meant the days were growing longer and we were headed into spring. I looked out the window and saw the sun shining. I ate the big breakfast, like a man who has not eaten in months, stuffing everything into my mouth at once, smacking the food with gusto, feeling the juices of my mouth mix with the eggs and bacon and cereal, feeling the hurt along the side of my jaws as the juices spurted and feeling the warm mixture which I washed down with milk grumble in my empty stomach. I ate ravenously, like a bear that has awakened in the early spring. I ate until my stomach bulged with food. When I was done I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. I ran my hand over my chest and remembered the excitement of Ismelda’s touch. My sensitive skin still tingled with her touch. I had lost my shell and now my skin was exposed to the acid in the air, as it had been exposed to her, and it felt good.

  Ronco had said, he lost his shell and all the stories written on it …

  Don’t worry, he hasn’t forgotten what he’s seen and felt, Mike had answered.

  “Salomón said I’d learn to sing, and I don’t know what in the hell he means by that,” I said.

  “What?” Dr. Steel asked.

  I opened my eyes. He was standing by me. I smiled. “I was just thinking aloud,” I said.

  “Well, you look pretty spruced up,” he winked. “Feel up to an x-ray?”

  “Anything you say,” I nodded as he felt the muscles along the side and back of my neck and made me turn my head. The freedom of movement was exhilarating. I felt weak but there was no pain and there was enough strength so I could control the movement.

  “Looks good,” he said then paused, sat by the side of the bed and looked out the window. “I have to write a report about what happened last night,” he said.

  I thought awhile and then I said, “It was an accident. Can you just say it was an accident—” I didn’t want to make it hard on him, but I didn’t want to go into it. It had been my doing and now I wanted to forget about it and I didn’t want crazy Danny to pay for what I had chosen to do.

  “Okay,” he nodded and slapped my leg, “it’s up to you …” He called Samson and Samson came in and lifted me on to the gurney and pushed me to the x-ray room. Kids on their way to therapy shouted greetings.

  “Hey, Tortuga! How you doin’?”

  “He don’ have his shell anymore!”

  “Oh myyy—”

  “Shhhhh!”

  “Hey, honey, when you goin’ come and see me?” KC waved. I turned and waved back. She looked beautiful standing in front of the therapy room in her crisp, freshly-laundered uniform. There was a buzz of excitement in the air which I had not felt before; the air and the sounds were alive. Even the doctors on the way to surgery waved, one reached out and patted me. The hall was bright with sunshine.

  The technician whistled while he shot half a dozen pictures, but one was all Steel needed to tell him I didn’t need another cast.

  “You’re a free man, Tortuga. Bones have healed nicely … you don’t even need a brace. How do you feel?”

  “Great.”

  “Ready to get back to therapy?”

  “Anytime,” I answered.

  “Let’s start with a whirlpool bath … it’ll get the soreness out.” He called KC and she and Samson took me into a small room with a big, stainless steel tub. They picked me up and sat me down in the tub. Then KC turned the tap and the hot, yellow pee of Tortuga came gushing out.

  “How does it feel?” she asked as the water rose.

  “Hot!” I shouted.

  “It’s nice and warm,” she smiled and ran her hand in the pungent mineral water. I inhaled the steam which rose up and felt it open up my lungs. “Breathe deep,” she said, “it’s good for you.” She splashed the water on my chest and back and ran her dark hands up and down, carressing me, helping me get used to the strong water which filled the tub. “I like you
better without your turtle shell,” she teased and massaged my neck and back muscles. She flipped a switch and the vibrator sputtered alive. The hot water boiled and churned around me. I went rigid and resisted and she whispered, “Relax, honey, relax. Flow with it … let it caress you, let it carry the weariness away …”

  I relaxed and sank into the swirling water, leaving only my head above water to breathe, allowing my arms and legs to float up and down in the churning water. KC kept massaging until I closed my eyes, felt safe in the water, worked with it and let it ease the soreness out of my cramped muscles. She sang while she held me, sad and blue, but full of love.

  I once had a lover

  Who left me for another …

  So I’m sittin’ by the river,

  Just starin’ at the water …

  Her song became a part of the water … a part of memory. I, too, had been at the river, I too had seen the innocent girls of my childhood scatter throughout the land as they grew into womanhood … and that same Sunday I had met la Llorona along the river, on the path beneath the cliff … and in meeting that poor, wretched creature who filled my life of fantasy with dread I had discovered the other half of my dark soul … and I had realized that the loss of innocence belonged to me as much as to the first communion girls … and last night I had seen Ismelda by the edge of the water. She had stood on the beach and called me back from my journey … and that’s why Tortuga’s water had spit me out. I could not drown … I could only live, with the woman and the water, with the siren who always sang in the moonlight by the edge of the water … a thousand stories flooded by memory, I saw my past flash before me for the first time, and it was a past of whispered stories, cuentos told by the gaunt men and women of the sea of land, history and tradition wrapped in words which moaned with the terrible urgency of the wind, moaning my past and my destiny … words tying together past and present in the magic of the moment … holy water caressing the cripples of the desert we had created … forcing us to live not in its depth and darkness but in the light of the sun … water a million years in the making, full of the earth’s strength, water from the heart and core of the earth … water as old as the earth, trapped in the dark bowels of earth, heated by the burning heart, gushing out in Tortuga’s pee to cure us …