The Hidden Light of Mexico City

by Carmen Amato

  “Lorena’s got a surprisingly big campaign machine gearing up,” Vasco said idly as he puffed on his cigar to get it drawing. “A lot of userids posting to her page.”

  “Probably all trying to raise money,” Eddo said. He slid the colorful Cohiba label off his cigar. “Somebody named Arias called the Marca Cortez offices.”

  “Probably Max Arias, her top flunky.” Tomás lit his cigar and waved it at Eddo. “I swear you can be such a dumb shit sometimes. Lorena was smacking her lips over you the other night at the hospital benefit. He was probably calling to invite you to make a contribution at one of her so-called lunches at the Hotel Arias. His family owns it.”

  “Everybody knows that’s her favorite sex spot,” Vasco added.

  “Fuck that,” Eddo exclaimed, nearly coming out of his chair.

  “What would Luz de Maria say, eh?” Tomás grinned even as he puffed on his cigar.

  “Luz thinks Lorena’s an idiot.” The words slipped out before Eddo even thought about it. He felt a flush creep up his neck and busied himself with the cigar.

  “Luz de Maria?” Vasco asked, light brown eyes glowing behind funky designer tortoise shell glasses. In his late thirties, he was a good-looking guy and the closest thing to a playboy Eddo had ever met. He was currently dating his way through the women in the Danish embassy. “Do I know her?”

  Eddo stuck the cigar in his mouth and flicked the lighter furiously, trying to get a flame.

  “Nope,” Tomás answered for him. “But the way he told it, she’s smart, she’s hot, and this is more than serious.”

  “No kidding?” Vasco had been tipping his chair on its rear legs and now he let it down with a thump, happy surprise plastered all over his face. “Our boy’s finally in deep?”

  “Over his head. She’s a high school art teacher.”

  “Is he going to tell her?”

  “Said he would.”

  “That is more than serious.”

  Eddo couldn’t light the damn cigar but his face was sure on fire. He’d been incredibly stupid, mouthing off to Tomás and Ana at the hospital benefit like some love-sick moron. Now if he never saw that bitch Luz de Maria again it would be too soon.

  “So when do I meet her?” Vasco asked, smirking around his cigar. “See the woman who’s making you blush like an altar boy in a--.”

  “Hey,” Eddo said sharply, torn between abject humiliation and the need to start throwing punches. This was the problem with having friends who were lawyers and cops. Fucking interrogators. “A major investigation here and you’re both thinking with your dicks.”

  Tomás and Vasco exchanged broad grins.

  “I’m going up to Anahuac in a couple of days,” Eddo went on. “Betancourt listened to everything I had to say but the only thing he was willing to authorize was an investigation of the bank with Hugo’s funny accounts by the Financial Regulations Unit. I’ll meet the unit’s guy there.”

  “Wait and minute, wait a minute,” Tomás broke in, the grin gone from his face. “Why the hell do you need to go up to Anahuac?”

  Eddo shrugged. “Betancourt isn’t going to do anything until there’s a solid link between Hugo’s accounts and the El Toro cartel. The way the money’s moving between accounts so fast and with amounts changing all the time somebody there has got to be moving it for Hugo.”

  “What about the userid?” Vasco asked.

  “Betancourt didn’t buy it,” Eddo said. He had just started explaining the userid scheme to Betancourt when Lorena came in. The interruption made Betancourt regroup, decide he wasn’t going to deal with the issue, and hand Eddo a bunch of classic stalling routines. “It wasn’t enough. Said he needed hard proof. Independent verification.”

  “Fuck Betancourt,” Tomas spat. “Too many people are getting involved. Arturo Romero, Bernal Paz, whoever in the central bank traced the accounts.”

  “The three of us.” Vasco took up the count. “Miguel knows about the website but not about the link to Hugo.”

  “Anybody from your office?” Tomás asked.

  Vasco shook his head.

  “And now Luis Yanez Luna and his boys in Financial.” Tomas smacked the table with the flat of his hand. “Are we really going to trust them?”

  “Look.” Eddo gestured with his still unlit cigar. “Luis tends to think he’s smarter than he is but he’s come through on a couple of things. If he can do as well with Banco Limitado maybe I can wrap this up before Hugo catches on and goes to Betancourt with some bullshit story the president is just gullible enough to believe.”

  Vasco nodded. “Trace the money trail and Betancourt won’t be able to ignore the evidence.”

  “You don’t have to go to Anahuac,” Tomás insisted stubbornly.

  Eddo finally managed to light his cigar, then focused on Tomás. His friend had his elbows on the table, shoulders hunched and tense, eyes pinched and dark. “What’s really the problem?” Eddo asked.

  “We lost two plainclothes Highway Patrol up there yesterday,” Tomás said after a beat. “They’d been called in to investigate a body in a truck by the side of the road. Last we heard of them, they’d found a guy with his head in his lap. Literally.”

  Eddo leaned forward. “You mean two Highway Patrol guys are missing?”

  “Found the car but no bodies.” Tomás nodded unhappily. “No ransom calls, either. Either they were targeted and the body was a decoy or they were dealing and something went sour.”

  “Shit,” Eddo said. He slumped back, the cigar forgotten. “Any of ours?”

  “No.”

  “Look.” Vasco shifted uneasily in his chair. “I think I’m with Tomás on this one. If Hugo found out you were in Anahuac asking questions it would be easy to make you disappear up there.”

  “The story is I’m visiting my sister in Atlanta.”

  “You got some other papers to use?”

  “Yes.” Eddo had a passport, identity card, and credit cards in another name. A man could buy just about anything at the Lagunilla market these days.

  “Take your gun,” Tomás said glumly. “Keep it with you.”

  Chapter 26

  It had been a month since Luz had been home. The adjustment from the Vega’s sterile atmosphere to the clutter and color of the Alba house was harder than usual. But Luz smiled and hugged the girls as they climbed all over their Tía Luz, bubbling with news. Martina had a new teacher and Sophia would play Mary in the Christmas posada at the church this year.

  It was only six weeks until Christmas, Luz realized, staving off the thought that she would have to tell Maria about the visa application this weekend. Soon she’d be getting her aguinaldo, the traditional Christmas bonus of an extra week’s salary. Other people who served the Vega household, like the water garrafon delivery man and Ricardo the streetsweeper, would get dispensas, boxes of basic household staples like oil, rice, and beans. Pre-packaged holiday dispensas would appear in the grocery stores soon. Hector would be dispatched to buy a dozen and Luz and Rosa would hand them out.

  Luz stepped behind the ironing board and made Maria sit down. Her mother was red-faced and a little breathless but said that it was just because she’d been so busy that morning. Lupe looked thicker and a little tired but insisted she was feeling fine. She came to the kitchen table with her sewing and the girls did their homework and everyone talked about the posada.

  Tío and Juan Pablo joined them for la cena. Lupe had made arroz a la tumbada. But after a round of compliments about the seafood dish, the dinner chat subsided into a tense stillness. Luz tried to catch Juan Pablo’s eye but he just shook his head at her. Even the girls were quiet, as if they had run out of things to say about Christmas.

  “Your pay was short last time.” Tío pointed his fork at Luz, breaking the silence.

  “My pay doesn’t concern you, Tío,” Luz said in surprise. His trip to Mexico City to make Juan Pablo collect her pay notwithstanding, her salary was none of Tío’s business and never had been. She would account for the mis
sing 650 pesos to Maria, not to Tío.

  Tío made a spitting sound. Luz ignored him.

  “Why was your pay short?” Lupe asked quietly.

  Luz put down her fork. Her sister was at the other end of the table, sitting across from Juan Pablo. Maria sat at the head. The girls shared the foot of the table near Luz and Tío. Everyone always sat in the same place, except when Tío didn’t show up, and then Martina sat at his place facing Luz.

  “This isn’t the time to talk about this, Lupe,” Luz said quietly. “Mama and I will talk about it later.”

  “Luz, please,” Lupe said, sounding almost tearful.

  Luz blinked at her sister. Lupe’s bottom lip was trembling. “Okay,” Luz said, drawing it out. A tiny white lie could put this awkward conversation to rest and Maria could be told the truth later. Luz took a deep breath as if embarrassed. “I . . . uh . . . broke a dish.”

  “Six hundred fifty pesos for a dish?” Tío shouted. Everyone jumped. Someone’s spoon clattered to the floor.

  Luz shrugged. “It was talavera.”

  Tío’s hand hit Luz’s cheekbone with a stinging smack. Her head snapped back, her eyes watered, the room sparkled with vertigo and she tasted blood.

  Through a curtain of dizziness, Luz watched Juan Pablo rise up and throw a wide looping punch across the table. He put his weight behind it, his chair spurting out behind him, his feet nearly coming off the floor. Fist connected with jaw and Tío spilled to the floor.

  “Don’t you touch my sister!” Juan Pablo yelled furiously.

  “She’s a stupid girl,” Tío roared, scrambling to his feet. “Breaking dishes when her family needs the money.”

  “So you can drink it?” Juan Pablo was barely in control.

  “Lupe is pregnant,” Tío shouted.

  “If you’re so worried, why don’t you get a job?”

  Tío threw a counterpunch across the table but Juan Pablo was younger and faster and sober. He jerked back to avoid the blow, then lunged forward, and suddenly they were snarling and grappling like two wild dogs, hands locked in each other’s shirts. The table between them rocked wildly as they wrestled over the dishes and the tortillas and the clay cazuela full of rice and seafood, ready to kill each other in the small cramped kitchen with everyone else sitting like shocked statues. Plastic glasses spun crazily and tipped over, flatware clattered to the floor, and Luz’s plate slid onto her lap.

  It ended when the girls started screaming. Tío and Juan Pablo let go of each other and Tío stalked out the back door, slamming it so hard the door didn’t catch but swung to and fro until Luz got up and closed it. Maria took Martina and Sophia upstairs. Lupe followed.

  Juan Pablo ran some cold water on a kitchen towel. He held half of it to Luz and she put it against her cheek. Juan Pablo wrapped the other end around his fist.

  “Thanks,” Luz said shakily. She reached for his free hand. “But I don’t want you fighting. You both have to live here.”

  “He’s a borracho who drinks like a fish,” Juan Pablo growled.

  Maria came downstairs alone and started to make tea.

  “I didn’t break any talavera,” Luz said.

  She talked quietly as they sat at the table again, telling Maria and Juan Pablo that she’d applied for a visa, how much it had cost, and where she would go in the United States if the visa was granted. Be on the lookout for a notice from the postal service, she said, because it would be the certified letter from the embassy.

  “No,” Juan Pablo said.

  “No what?” Luz turned to look at him.

  “No, you’re not doing this.”

  “Juan Pablo, look--.”

  “No. NO.” He cut her off. “You are not leaving and going someplace so far away.” He jumped up and Luz was surprised to see tears running down his cheeks. He’d just been ready to kill Tío and now he was crying because she’d applied for a visa. He was still between a boy and a man.

  “Listen, sunshine,” she started.

  “No, Luz.” Juan Pablo’s voice was loud and angry. “You keep saying ‘we’ll manage, we’ll manage.’ But this isn’t managing, this is leaving.” He ran up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

  “He’ll get over it.” Maria sighed. “You did the right thing. If you get the visa you’ll go.”

  Luz sat in her chair like a lump, unable to move. It seemed as if too many things had happened in the last month and she was a different person and everyone at home was different, too. Her brain was too tired to maintain its defenses, and she had a sudden memory of being in Eddo Cortez Castillo’s bed, feeling beautiful, her fingers entwined with his. It was as if she wanted time to stop and just let her be in that wonderful moment for the rest of her life.

  Her heart felt like lead as she watched her mother wash the dishes.

  '

  The little church was full of people when Luz walked in Saturday morning. Father Santiago was supervising a First Communion rehearsal.

  I’ll never buy a Communion candle for a child of my own, Luz thought, and almost left. But Carmelita was there with her older daughter, Bianca, and so Luz stayed.

  They chatted for a few minutes in the vestibule about the First Communion until Bianca went off to join her friends and Carmelita gently touched Luz’s cheek. Tío’s hand had left a faint bruise. “Everything okay?”

  Luz shrugged. “Tío and I had a disagreement. Nothing important.”

  Carmelita frowned. Luz hugged her and caught Father Santiago’s eye. He nodded and Luz walked into the sacristy behind the altar.

  It was a simple, homely room, with a cabinet for candles and altar cloths, a closet for Father Santiago’s mostly threadbare vestments, and a table where he counted the Sunday collection, wrote his sermons, conducted marriage counseling, and kept the books for the bishop’s office to review every six months. A yellowed poster of the late El Papa Juan Pablo II blessing the crowds during a visit to Mexico City curled away from the age-stained wall, next to a faceless Madonna that Luz had painted years ago.

  The noise in the church died away and Father Santiago came in. He was wearing corduroy pants, a threadbare sweater, and his usual patient smile. “I’m so glad you came.” He filled two glasses of water from the dispenser, handed one to Luz and gestured for her to sit down at the table.

  “I have sort of a family problem, Father.” Luz sipped some water, feeling uncharacteristically nervous in front of the old priest.

  “Ah,” said Father Santiago

  “Lupe’s pregnant, Father.”

  “Ah,” said Father Santiago.

  “She won’t say who the father is.”

  “Ah,” the priest said again.

  “I . . . uh . . . thought it might be one of the seminarians who was here in the summer.” Luz felt herself blush.

  “No.” Father Santiago gave his head a slight shake. “The father of Lupe’s baby is not a seminarian.”

  “Father, you--.” Luz didn’t finish. The priest’s eyes were knowing and sad. Lupe had evidently told Father Santiago but he would not violate the sanctity of the confessional.

  “You are concerned for your sister?” he asked.

  “I’m concerned that if she won’t say who it is, how is he going to provide for this baby?” Luz heard the irritation in her voice.

  “Lupe and the father are responsible for what happened and for their child.”

  “No,” Luz said. “It’ll be me. It’s always me.”

  “This isn’t like you, Luz de Maria.” Father Santiago frowned slightly. “Is something else the matter?”

  Luz realized she’d drawn a heart in the condensation on her glass. “I’d like to make my confession now, Father.”

  Father Santiago made the sign of the cross with her.

  “Bless me Father for I have sinned.” Luz murmured the familiar start to the sacrament of penance. “It has been three months since my last confession. In that time I lied to my employer to get an advance on my salary. I lied to my family about what I did wi
th the money when really I applied for a visa to the United States.”

  “Ah,” said Father Santiago.

  “I told Mama and Juan Pablo about it last night,” Luz said miserably. “Juan Pablo’s so mad he won’t speak to me.”

  “Do you have a job in the United States?” asked Father Santiago.

  “No.”

  They sat silently for a minute.

  “There’s more, Father,” Luz said, wishing she had some of Rosa’s tequila-and-toronja handy. “I met someone and I slept with him even when I knew it was a sin. But he . . . he’s special. He has a car and a nice apartment in Mexico City. It was . . . he . . .” Feelings she’d tried to ignore for weeks bubbled to the surface. “He’s smart. Cares how I feel. Listens when I talk. About art. Politics. Anything I say.”

  “How old are you, Luz de Maria?”

  Luz frowned at the unexpected question. “Twenty-nine.”

  “Hmmm.” Father Santiago sighed and smiled. “I honestly have a hard time telling you it’s a sin to be 29, unmarried, and sleeping with the man you love.”

  “Love?” Luz echoed in surprise. “Who said anything about love? He thought I was a prostitute.”

  “Is this what you are trying to tell me, Luz de Maria?” Father Santiago sat up straight in his chair. “That you sold yourself to make money for a visa? Or Lupe’s baby?”

  “No. No. It had nothing to do with anything.” Luz shook her head. “We had a wonderful time. But then he left 200 pesos on the dresser and disappeared.”

  “Because he thought you were a prostitute?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t take the money.”

  “Is there any other reason he would have done that?”

  “No.” Luz got up and went to the window, too agitated to stay seated. “I knew he didn’t know that I was a muchacha. I didn’t realize he thought I was a prostitute.”