The Hidden Light of Mexico City

by Carmen Amato

  “He’s . . . uh.” Eddo looked at Juan Pablo. They both grinned guiltily. “Let me do this right,” Eddo said. He shifted Luz to face Juan Pablo and Carolina. “Luz de Maria, may I introduce you to Juan Pablo Alba, Arturo Romero’s personal assistant?”

  “His assistant?” Luz repeated.

  Juan Pablo beamed.

  “Señor Alba is escorting my niece Carolina Porterfield.” Eddo turned to the young couple and made a courtly gesture. “Juan Pablo, Carolina. May I introduce my prometida, the noted artist Luz de Maria Alba Mora.”

  “But you can’t be here,” Luz said to Juan Pablo. “You’re in Guadalajara playing fútbol.”

  “I didn’t go to Guadalajara, Luz.” Juan Pablo shrugged sheepishly.

  “Please don’t be mad, Luz de Maria,” Carolina pleaded.

  “Let me explain, corazón,” Eddo said.

  “Yes, you explain,” Luz said.

  “I called one night and he answered your phone,” Eddo said hastily. “We talked about security at the house. Juan Pablo and I kept in touch and I was impressed. He’s a good communicator and a clear thinker. Gets things done. So when Arturo said he needed another pair of hands, I suggested we get Juan Pablo up here and see how it went.” Eddo kissed Luz’s cheek. “Well, the first day Juan Pablo fixed grammar mistakes in a press statement, unclogged Arturo’s schedule, found his keys, and made about half a dozen other problems go away. Arturo was pretty happy.”

  “So . . . wait.” Luz blinked, trying to take it all in.

  “We’ve got an arrangement,” Eddo said. “He’s living in the chauffeur’s quarters out back. Rent is one college course per semester. He already registered at UNAM.”

  “College? Chauffeur’s quarters?” Luz was more bewildered than ever. “What are you talking about?”

  Eddo’s arm tightened around her. “Luz, remember you told me never to buy you a diamond engagement ring?”

  “Yes.”

  “I listened.” He paused. “I bought you this house instead.”

  “You did not,” Luz said.

  “Not an engagement ring. An engagement house.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “To live in?

  “I think she’s getting it,” Eddo said as Juan Pablo and Carolina grinned. “Yes, that’s pretty much the plan. We’ll live in the main house. You can use this room as your studio. My office is in the other wing. Juan Pablo is in the chauffeur’s quarters. I thought we could call it Casa Valencia.”

  Suddenly Luz was sitting in a window seat. Eddo pressed her head down between her knees.

  “I’m not passing out,” Luz gasped to a blurry floor. “I’m too dressed up.”

  “Keep breathing,” Eddo said.

  “You just want to look down the front of my dress.”

  Eddo laughed and let her sit up. Luz gulped air as the room regained its lines.

  “You knew about this all along?” she said to Juan Pablo.

  “Time for us to go,” Juan Pablo said. He and Carolina vanished down the stairs.

  “Now what?” They’d left so fast Luz felt a stiff breeze.

  “Do you remember in San Miguel when we were arguing on the porch?” Eddo eased onto the window seat next to her. “I asked you if all my friends and all my family and everybody I work with got together and told you it was okay, would it convince you to marry me.”

  “Eduardo Martín Bernardo Cortez Castillo,” Luz said slowly. “What have you done?”

  “You’re the only one coming to a despedida,” Eddo said. “Everybody else is here to convince you to marry me.”

  “Dios,” Luz choked.

  “The plan was for you to succumb to either family pressure or the house bribe,” Eddo admitted. “But after last week, I didn’t want that between us. Nothing lasts unless it’s built on honesty.”

  Luz stared at him in wonder. Life with this man would never be boring.

  Eddo pulled Luz to her feet. “I have one last surprise for you. Stay right here.” He walked her over to the French doors and made her face them. Luz could see herself in the window, backlit by the chandelier.

  “Okay.” Luz smoothed her dress in the glass and then Eddo turned out the lights.

  He came back to stand beside her. As Luz’s eyes adjusted she could see outside. It was a standard Mexico City night. The sky was milky dark. But as Luz looked out the windows, it seemed as if she was seeing a thousand twinkling stars below her. The sky was blank but the ground was scattered with silver flickers.

  “It’s a barranca down there,” Eddo said. “Cuts across the entire back of the property. Pilar and Carolina stuck about a thousand candles into the walls this morning.” He kissed the back of her neck just there. “I tried to find stars but there aren’t any in this whole damn city. Will these do?”

  Tears pricked the back of Luz’s eyes. “They’ll do very well.”

  '

  They stepped onto a wide flagstone patio. It was surrounded by a low stone wall and lit by candles. Several people started applauding. The cheering spread to the people standing on a second patio a few steps below the first.

  “She said yes,” Eddo shouted exultantly. Luz blushed.

  A woman detached herself from the crowd. She was wearing a slate gray silk dress, a rope of pearls, high-heeled sandals, and familiar hazel eyes.

  “Welcome to the family, Luz de Maria,” the woman said.

  “Thank you, Pilar,” Luz said.

  The crowd shifted and the noise swelled. Luz was engulfed by Los Hierros. Diego was the first to kiss her. He was shouldered out of the way by Vasco. Then others she didn’t know but who wanted to congratulate el jefe’s lady. And she finally met Ana, Tomás’s wife.

  “I suppose you know what a pendejo you’re getting, Luz de Maria,” Tomás said jokingly.

  “Hey, you’re here to talk her into it, not make her change her mind,” Eddo protested.

  Someone near them tapped on a glass for quiet and Luz realized it was Arturo Romero. The former judge and now presidential candidate was tall and thin, with a quiet dignity that was more forceful in person than on television. His wife Imelda stood next to him.

  Luz blinked. Romero was wearing the same tie as Eddo. And Juan Pablo. And Tomás. She looked around the crowd. Every man was wearing the same tie.

  A maid came by with a tray of champagne flutes. Eddo took two off the tray and handed one to Luz. There was a purple paper flower wired to the stem of each flute.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention.” Romero’s voice was deep and strong. “I’ve been asked to propose a toast to my very dear friend and colleague Eduardo, and to Luz de Maria, the bravest woman in the world.” He got a big round of laughter and applause for that one. Luz saw Diego hooting on the upper patio and raised her glass to him. He was wearing the expensive Pineda Covalin tie with a black shirt and jeans; the sort of rogue who’d get a lot of attention in rave clubs in Colonia Roma.

  “Now please,” Romero said as the applause subsided. “I’ve known Eduardo for a good many years. He’s a man of action, someone who doesn’t sit still for very long. The woman who will be by his side in good times and bad must have courage and fortitude and a generous heart.”

  Eddo put his arm around Luz’s waist.

  Romero held up his glass. “He has had the incredible good luck to find just that person.” He bowed to Luz and met her eyes. There was nothing but warmth and respect in his gaze. “But Eduardo is not the only beneficiary of this incredible woman’s talent. For it was her concept that will launch the Violet Revolution. Eduardo may be getting a wife, but the rest of us are getting a genius!” There was more applause and cheering.

  “Come the fall, these little paper violets are going to be all over the country,” Eddo murmured into Luz’s ear. “They’re going to be the symbol of the education campaign. The Violet Revolution.”

  “So raise your glasses with me,” Arturo Romero sa
id. “To Eduardo and Luz de Maria. Long life and happiness forever. Salud.”

  “SALUD,” everyone chorused.

  Luz met them all. The Romeros and Eddo’s PAN colleagues seemed to regard her as a wizard for having unwittingly given the campaign a theme. The Cortez family treated her like royalty, the older aunts and uncles welcoming her with an enthusiasm she never expected. They obviously loved Eddo and respected his work, but clearly considered him the black sheep of the family, the one who wasn’t content to stay in Puebla but instead did disreputable things like become a cop and go into politics. At least now he was getting married.

  There was little talk of Luz’s family or background, although she got questions about her artwork. One of the younger uncles was disappointed that she did not paint nudes.

  It was a magical night. There were big buffet tables laid out on the lower patio, groaning under huge copper pans of paella, roast chicken, salads, and desserts. Tubs of ice chilled bottles of beer and an endless supply of champagne, while a waiter made mojitos from cold rum and fresh limes and mint.

  The barranca was a long narrow cut in the earth, about 12 feet deep, 40 feet long, and 20 feet at the widest point. Flagstone steps led down into it from the lower patio. The bottom was flat and grassy. A mariachi band set up at the far end. After people ate they danced in the barranca as the candles twinkled all around them.

  Luz ate paella and drank champagne with Eddo, Ana and Tomás, and Vasco and a tiny woman named Conchita who had once worked for Eddo. Juan Pablo moved easily through the crowd, Carolina attached to him like a limpet. He knew everybody and seemed quite at ease. Later, Luz danced with Arturo Romero. It was similar to dancing with a flagpole. Eddo danced with Imelda and Luz knew he was having the same experience. After that Los Hierros claimed her and Luz danced with half a dozen men, and then with Eddo’s Tío Bernardo who ran Marca Cortez. She danced with Pilar’s husband Bill who made her try out her English with him. His Spanish was excellent so they ended up speaking a mix of languages. When their dance ended Pilar intervened.

  “I thought you might like a break before your feet wear out.”

  “I’d love to,” said Luz. “Thank you.”

  They found a quiet table on the upper patio.

  “Let’s just sit for a minute and chat,” Pilar said.

  There was something in the older woman’s tone. Luz folded her hands on the table, sure she knew what was coming.

  “Eduardito didn’t do you justice, Luz de Maria,” Pilar began. “You’re much more glamorous than he described.”

  Luz smiled thinly, waiting for the punchline.

  “I know you love my brother,” Pilar said. She twisted her pearls into a knot. Luz wondered if they were real. “But he’s a difficult person. He bulls through life with his head down, pitching obstacles out of his path. He and Arturo play in the big leagues. Against some tough opponents. It’s an ugly game in this country and they play to win.”

  “I know,” Luz said.

  “But are you sure you can live with it?” Pilar asked. “That’s really what I have to know. Eduardito is as tough as they come. Life with him will be messy.”

  “I’m pretty tough, too,” Luz said. She met Pilar’s eyes.

  Pilar nodded. “I expect you are.” She slid an envelope across the table to Luz. “Here. It’s not much but I hope you take it.”

  Luz touched the envelope. The Cortez family had been kind to her all night, probably because Arturo Romero was there. But now the real message had arrived. The envelope was thick. Cash, no doubt. How much was a pure castellano bloodline worth these days?

  “Does Eddo know you’re doing this?” Luz asked.

  “Oh, dear, no.” Pilar rolled her eyes. “Don’t show him either. We don’t need his temper going off in all directions.”

  “No,” Luz said. “We wouldn’t want that.”

  “Go ahead,” Pilar urged. “Open it before he comes up here.”

  Chingate. Luz knew she’d say it to Pilar if she had to. She opened the envelope and pulled out a handful of old photographs.

  “What’s this?” she asked blankly.

  “I thought you should have them,” Pilar said. “To start a family album.”

  Luz spread the photos on the table, flushed with relief and shame. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  There was Eddo around age three; a scowling, chunky fellow, wearing a miniature mariachi outfit complete with spangled and embroidered jacket and a wide sombrero. Eddo about age ten, with Pilar and their parents. He’d lost the baby fat but not the scowl. Eddo playing fútbol at four, at six, at 12, at 17.

  “Check out the hair.” Pilar pointed to one picture of him running with the ball. He was in his late teens. His hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail.

  Luz chuckled. “I’ll bet he was wild.”

  “He was hell,” Pilar said. “My mother never told him no.”

  The other pictures were of his high school graduation, his college graduation, and his graduation from law school. Eddo in his Highway Patrol uniform.

  “That was when he made lieutenant,” Pilar said.

  Luz put down the photo. “Pilar, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “What were your parents like?” Luz swallowed hard. “Would they be happy? You know, about me marrying Eddo?”

  “Hmmm.” Pilar sat back in her chair and considered.

  “It’s no, right?”

  “Twenty years ago, you would have been right.” Pilar nodded. “The Cortez name meant a lot to my father. My parents saw Eddo as the one who would carry it on.”

  “But he’d carry on the name with the appropriate woman,” Luz offered.

  “The appropriate woman is the one who knows him and still loves him.” Pilar pointed a manicured finger at Luz. “That’s you, Luz de Maria. And if it’s any consolation all my aunts and uncles seem pleased. You’ve made a very good impression.”

  “Nobody’s mentioned my background at all,” Luz said, giving Pilar another opening. “Everyone’s been . . . discreet.”

  “Look, Luz de Maria.” Pilar leaned forward and her voice got hard. “Twenty-seven years ago I married a gringo and moved away and I didn’t do it because I needed a job in El Norte. Know what I mean? You don’t think that raised eyebrows in this family? You don’t think that was a hard thing to do? Bill worked for a big department store back then. He came to Puebla on a buying trip and that was it for me. Six months later I was living in a strange country, and everything was strange. I’d gone from being a rich pampered girl living in a hacienda to being a nobody, just Bill’s spic wife in a tiny apartment. I didn’t know English very well. I couldn’t cook. I didn’t even know how to do my own laundry. I put Bill’s ties in the washing machine and they came out like shoelaces.”

  “Oh,” Luz said, nonplussed.

  “And get this.” Pilar gave a knowing half smile. “Bill’s not Catholic.”

  Luz stifled a gasp as the enormity of what Pilar had done hit her.

  “Mama called every week for years,” Pilar said. “Wanted to know when I was moving back to Mexico. I’d cry and cry every time I hung up. She sent money, too, said Bill couldn’t give me a nice lifestyle. Bill would get furious and send it all back. He thought I was going to leave him. It’s why we didn’t have Carolina until so very late.” She sat back in her chair. “So now Eduardito is marrying a mestizo. It’s not the end of the world for the Cortez family and everybody knows it.”

  “What does everybody know?”

  Eddo was right behind Luz. She and Pilar had been so engrossed in their conversation they hadn’t seen him come up.

  “I’ve been looking for you two.” He pulled up a chair and dropped into it with easy grace. His tie was loose, the suit coat gone, and he held a half-smoked cigar. He grinned at Luz and the emotion sparked between them.

  “This is a private conversation,” Pilar said. “I’m telling her all your bad habits.”

  “She already knows.”
Eddo gestured with the cigar at the photos spread out on the table. “What have you got there?” His eye fell on the photograph of himself in the police uniform. “You’re kidding me.”

  “These are mine,” Luz said and scooped up the picture before he could do anything. “Pilar gave them to me.”

  “Ah, Madre de Dios,” Eddo groaned as he caught sight of the chubby mariachi. “How could you do this to me, Pilar?”

  “Paying you back for that arrow in my head.” Pilar stood up. “Have you seen Bill?”

  “He’s playing some tequila drinking game with Diego and the guys.” Eddo indicated the lower patio. “Hard to tell who’s winning.”

  “Your friends are degenerates.” Pilar rushed down the steps.

  “Come dance with me, corazón,” Eddo said. “I’ll even get rid of this cigar.”

  They left the photos with her purse and his suit coat on the lower level of the patio and walked down the steps into the barranca. The mariachis were playing a slow guitar serenade. Eddo put his arm around Luz’s waist and caught up her right hand. The candles glittered as the couples turned slowly on the grass. The night air in the barranca was pleasant and fresh as if la sopa didn’t settle that low.

  Arturo gave them a knowing smile as he and Imelda swayed by. Luz thought that there must still be a lot of romance in their relationship. Carolina and Juan Pablo didn’t notice anyone else as they danced pressed together.

  “They’re dancing awfully close,” Luz murmured.

  “Don’t worry,” Eddo said. “I talked to him. Man to man.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You did a good job with that kid.”

  Luz sighed in contentment. “This like being in a bowl of stars.”

  “And the ball is never out of play,” Eddo said.

  “The ball?”

  “Juan Pablo and I kicked the ball around in here. Madre de Dios that kid can run.”

  It had been a long day and the surprises and shocks had taken their toll. Luz took off her shoes but held onto them as she and Eddo danced. She rested her head against his shoulder and the guitar music lulled her.

  “You know, corazón,” Eddo said. “I was serious about getting married tomorrow but I don’t think it can be done that fast.”