When she still used to like to talk, she’d tell me about some of the things she’d imagine. I just used to hold her tight to comfort her. What else could I do? And when she started to scream, it’d make my hair stand on end and I’d clear off to the cantina with Lolo - I couldn’t have done anything about the situation anyway. You know, what hurts me more is that she will never know a man. With those fits of madness, who would want her as a woman? In the barrio they call her all sorts of names and that gets to me, although she’s never found out. They call her the spanner, ‘cause she loosens her own screws; or the mani-curist, ‘cause she spends so much time in the crazy house. Even with all of that stuff, she’s a good girl who’s kind and forgiving. That’s why I ‘m telling you that Tinita would never have dared to do something so terrible as to kill her uncle Lolo. She’d never even chop up a worm, let alone have the courage to kill a man. She may be crazy, but she’s not stupid.
70
Natalia brings down the shutter on the store with a loud bang. The twins, Natalita and Ricarda, do up the padlocks. Natalia is feeling her age and can’t bend down to the ground to do it herself. The three women make their way back to the house in complete silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Natalia still has a bad taste in her mouth from what happened today; it’s never nice to have to pay a visit to a psychiatric hospital. In her head she can still hear the crazy women shouting and wailing. It makes her feel deeply depressed and anxious. It could be any one of us in there, she thinks. Imagining one of her daughters in the same situation as Ernestina, in a straight jacket, howling as if she were being tortured, is a torture in itself.
The thoughts that are going through the twins heads are very different from what Natalia is thinking, but they are just as gloomy. Adolescence is dismal and bitter enough for anyone. They feel their lives are suspended in a sea of dirty, stagnant water. Nothing makes sense and sometimes they feel like crying, just because.
The walk from La Covadonga to the house is very short – just a block –, but it is far enough for it to be an ordeal, walking amongst the night shadows and the silence lurking behind each building, each house. The city is quiet and there is not the usual noise from smelly cars and trucks to distract them from their thoughts. The door of the San José building is wide open, but that’s not unusual. It’s so old and dilapidated and it’s been a long time since anyone bothered to close it. Natalia goes up to the first floor with the twins following behind, tired, downcast and dragging their feet, oblivious to everything.
As Natalia puts the key in the lock, a shudder runs up her spine. Damned day, she thinks, it’s been like a bad dream. When she goes to turn the key, she finds that the door is open. Lolo must have arrived home drunk and he’s forgotten to close it. He’s so irresponsible. He should know this city is becoming more and more dangerous every day, with stranglers everywhere. As she goes into the apartment and turns on the light, she throws her handbag to one side. She is about to take off her shoes when she notices something strange about the atmosphere in the house. Something has changed, although for the moment she doesn’t know what and her eyes still haven’t gotten used to the brightness of the light she has just turned on. One of the twins screams even before she crosses the threshold; the other one automatically begins to scream without quite knowing what her sister’s screams are about. Natalia doesn’t know why her daughters are screaming. What’s wrong, silly girls? Stop making such a noise or you’ll wake up the whole neighbourhood. Her head is spinning with thoughts that have nothing to do with what she is seeing. The chairs in the lounge are all disarranged and the colour looks different. We’re in the wrong apartment, she thinks to herself - the twins are now bawling their eyes out. We must be in someone else’s, except it looks a lot like ours. What are we doing here? A man is lying in the middle of the lounge with his hands on his stomach as if he had a pain in the gut. This is rude, it’s not right; we shouldn’t go into someone else’s house, it’s wrong. God, the house is a shambles. Who lives here and why the twins are screaming like crazy? Perspiration is running down Natalia’s forehead, just like in the park at midday. Lolo’s motionless body is lying on the floor, in a huge pool of blood. Natalia looks at the twins, who are still screaming. She shakes them by the shoulders.
⎯ Shut up, will you? Have you gone crazy, or what?
⎯ But I’m the crazy one, thinks Natalia, I must be delirious; the screams of the sick people in the hospital have gotten into my head and they won’t go away ⎯ and this house is a disaster. How can it be if I did the housework this morning before I went out? Lolito and Hortensio aren’t in, so they couldn’t have made all this mess. What’s Lolo doing in the middle of the lounge, with his belly all dirty and staring at the ugly, old ceiling. It’s a pigsty: the curtains, the cushions, the carpet and Lolo’s new shirt, the one I gave him for his birthday. Natalia gets closer to her husband and stares at him as if trying to recognise him.
⎯ What’s wrong, Lolo, are you feeling bad? ⎯ Natalia shakes his shoulder and comes away with bloodied hands. ⎯ Answer me, Lolo, answer me. Answer me, I’m telling you. Are you deaf? Talk to me, tell me to take you to the doctor’s, but don’t just lie there with that stupid look on your face ⎯ it makes me nervous. Lolo, Lorenzo Manón Martinez, talk to me; just say anything, for God’s sake ⎯ Natalia shakes him brusquely; she isn’t aware that she now has huge stains on her dress. ⎯ Stop pretending you’re dead, ‘cause I don’t think it’s at all funny. Talk to me, stop being a lazy bum. Is that too much to ask? Please, wake up, even if you say you’re gonna go with that other woman, but stop just looking at the ceiling as if we’d just painted it. – Natalia hugs Lolo’s body -. Well, maybe you’re looking at it thinking what colour we should paint it. Would you like to paint it? It doesn’t matter if we use up all our money. We could do up the kitchen too, if you like. Remember once you said it’d be good to put in one of those new kitchens? Answer me, Lolo.
Florencia pushes the twins aside to get into Lolo Manón’s apartment. She goes over to Natalia; her breathing is controlled and her voice slow and deliberate, but her hands are shaking like maracas. She takes Natalia by the shoulders to pull her away from Lolo’s body, but Natalia refuses to let go of her husband; she refuses to take in what her eyes are seeing.
⎯ Come, sister, it’s best if you come away from here.
⎯ Maybe you’d like to go on that trip you wanted to go one before I bought the store.
⎯ He can’t hear you, sister. He’s dead, well and truly dead.
⎯ Don’t be ridiculous, Lolo can’t die before me,. He said he’d kill me first.
⎯ Well, he double crossed you, didn’t he, as usual.
⎯ Are you dead, Lolo? Are you really dead?
71
S’true what they’re saying, my comandante. I’m leaving this fuckin’ ...I mean darned town. Just lately, a whole bunch of gruesome things have happened to me. About four in the morning I hear awful wailing really close to my head; I reckon it must be Lolo back from the dead to collect the fifty pesos I owe him. Sometimes I feel a freezing cold hand covering my mouth, trying to shut me up – I snore a lot, you know? So then I wakes up with a fright, and I’m swiping the air with my hands and I’m trying to scare away Lolo’s ghost. It’s so bad that the other day I punched my daughter, Carmen, and broke one of her teeth. And just when I’m dreaming I’m eating a lime ice cream, something pulls my feet. It’s scary as, I can tell you. That’s why I thought I’d get out and go to Doctores and see if the damned ghosts are less active there, ‘cause as far as this place goes, it’s impossible for me to stay here.
Why would it be my conscience, tell me? Mine’s completely clear. My house may look like a rubbish truck, but don’t even mention my conscience in the same breath. Sure, there was a bit of bad feeling on my part ‘cause Lolo was always tryin’ t’ pull a fast one on me, but it wasn’t like I was gonna do something I’d go t’ hell for, no sir.
Whaddaya mean I’m digging myself into a hole? You’re cro
ssing the line with me, comandante, and I don’t like it. Look, just so’s you don’t have t’ worry about me making a run for it, I’m gonna give ya my new address and the phone number of the little place I’m gonna rent. Truth is, you shouldn’t be suspicious of me. The reason I’m having those phantasmagorical ‘speriences must be ‘cause Lolo still wants to get into a fight over the pesos I owe him or some other stupid thing – you know what my old friend was like. Just let’s be very clear, I’m not planning on making a break for it, as you’re suggesting. I just wanna get away from these damned evil spirits and whatever debt Lolo feels I might owe him.
72
What? Would you say that again, please? That this poor unfortunate creature killed my husband? This poor, weedy kid murdered Lolo Manón? Listen up. How could you think a miserable, good-for-nothing, layabout like this would take my husband’s life? That would be an insult. Lolo wouldn’t let himself be knifed by a wretch like that or any other poor devil. The fact is, you haven’t been able to find the real murderer and you’ve gotten sick of looking, of asking questions, of getting into everyone’s private life, and you’ve realised you’re a bunch of mediocre, useless good-for-nothings. And now, just so you can finish with this whole business, you go and grab the first unsuspecting jerk you can find, some unfortunate wretch with nothing to lose, who’s spent his life unnoticed, and who you think you can just pin a murder on and leave him to rot in jail. Then you guys can wash your hands of it all and say, “justice was done here; we did our duty; it’s all sorted”. But that’s not the way it’s gonna be. I can’t believe you would even think that this two bit runt was manly or tough enough, or had the courage or the guts or - to be blunt - the balls to stab Lolo eighteen times as if he were a defenceless sack of flour or, even worse, a piece of meat waiting to be butchered and sold by the kilo. You have offended me, Señor Solicitor. It’s disrespectful. I hope my husband isn’t listening to you, ‘cause that sort of insult would have given him a heart attack. He was a bastard, argumentative, belligerent, a son of his holy mother, but he wasn’t an idiot, nor was he a weakling, nor did he have only one arm or was blind or crippled. He was as strong as an ox and could give any low life who confronted him a thrashing. And now you’re telling me that this human dirt rag sliced him up as if he were a trussed chicken? I’ve been offended in many ways, Señor Solicitor, but this was the worst. And that I will never ever forgive.
73
My name is Lolo Manón here and in China, yes, sir. I’ve been trying to recall my childhood, but I can’t remember anything - I’ve forgotten my fuckin’ childhood. Kids are a real curse, they’re horrible, I hate kids. I’m gonna move a little bit to one side and see if this bastard gets distracted. It’s damned hard to move, I must be getting old. What was I saying? Ah, yes. I’m Lolo Manón and I’m married to monster, one that’s not in danger of extinction. Quite the opposite, she’s a curse, just like kids. I hate kids and I hate my wife. Maybe if I stretch my leg a little bit, maybe I can get outta his way. Olé, dude! You didn’t expect that matador’s pass, did you? You’re an idiot, but that’s nothin’ new. When I was a kid, my mamá wouldn’t let me look when my papá used to fall down the stairs ‘cause he was as drunk as a skunk. She didn’t want me to turn out like him, ‘cause he was a real son-of-his tequila-drinking mother. But mezcal’s my passport to heaven. My poor old mamá, she was a real pushover. Ay, that piece of shit clobbered me again, just ‘cause I got plastered! If I weren’t, I’d ... My tia Graciana nearly fainted when she heard who was gonna be her daughter-in-law. She didn’t go to the wedding and she never met Ernestina. What for? It’s not as if she was really her granddaughter. She never invited Florencia to her house and she dressed in black ever since the day of the wedding. How embarrassing, Natalia is gonna arrive and find the place all wet, I’m completely screwed. At least cleaning up the mess I’m making will keep her busy, which is as it should be. I’m a poor devil, a poor, drunk devil in fact, but I’m a real man. They say life is for living, and I’m living it to the full. But I’m under no illusions that I’m anything but a poor devil. I loved my mamá a lot, yes, sir; and my papá too, like most fathers, neither too much nor too little. The old man died when I was still a kid, but I’m glad. Fathers just get in the way. Here we go again! Gimme a break! Don’t you realise that fuckiin’ blade is helluva sharp. I’m startin’ to get really pissed off, eh. And when I’m pissed off and pissed at the same time, even Natalia gives me has some respect, goddammit. My old lady didn’t look after us much ‘cause she worked the whole blessed day; that’s why she never hit us during the day, just at night, when she got back from work and we were asleep. Somebody’d probably told her about the monkey business we’d gotten up to, ‘cause she was always very sure of herself. She’d whip back the covers on to the floor and then she’d have a go at us with a bamboo cane like we were piñatas. Once, twice, three times ... up to fifteen times, depending on the how bad we’d been. Ay, this has gone too far, now I’m startin’ to get cold. I really must be gettin’ old ‘cause I never used to get cold. When I can’t hold a glass of mescal any more, what am I gonna do? I doubt either of the twins will wanna hold the glass for me to have little sips. As soon as they can, those sluts are gonna go and sleep with the first idiot they come across. They’re a disaster. Women have always been bitches, even though they come across so modest and obedient. That’s what happened with Natalia, all very quiet and submissive, but when it came to the crunch, turns out she was really bossy and domineering. That reminds me, I hope Natalia hurries up, ‘cause this animal is going too far with the jabs. It’s one thing to be on good terms, but that’s a fuckin’ nuff, for heaven’s sake... My sister, Gloria, and I got the worst of my mamás love affair with the bamboo cane. After that, I was always scared and I’d wake up with a start with any little noise, my heart in my mouth. Hijole! I really must be getting old, ‘cause I feel fuckin’ tired. My eyes are starting to close and I’m even starting to dribble. Ay, chihuahua, if it’s not dribble, then what is it? It’s hot, how gross! When’s that animal gonna get the hell outta here? He must know he’s really getting on my nerves? One day I cut my nose with a rusty tin can and the blood just kept on coming and my nose just wouldn’t stop bleeding. I went to my mamá so she could fix it, but instead she wacked me three times on the bum for getting into mischief and sent me back out on to the street. My tia, Graciana, took me to the doctor to fix my nose and to get me another tetanus ‘noculation. If I wasn’t so drunk and ‘naesthetised, it’d be hilarious to see the fucker’s face; he must’ve just been to see Psychosis 3. Why doesn’t he just head off home and leave me in peace. One of these days I’m gonna kill her, not my tia Graciana, she’s already dead anyway. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Why would she wanna keep brooding in this rotten world? I’d be doin' her a favour. First I’d whisper a few sweet nothings in her ear, like when we were first married, then I’d take all of her clothes off; she’ll be thinkin’ I’m doin’ her the favour, but no way! Afterwards, I’d torture her a bit with a candle and burn off all of her little hairs. I’d finish her off by throttling her, or drowning her in the bath, or giving her a taste of lead. But that’s not the interesting part. What’s really interesting would be watching her burn with the candle, bit by bit. What time are you gonna get here, friggin’ Natalia? You’re never here when I need you, dammit. My whole body’s numb and I can’t open my eyes – my lids are stuck together. Worst part is, I won’t be able to tell what sort of mescal you’re giving me. Hey, you’re not gonna make me clean up this mess, are ya? Hijole, you’re gonna be hopping mad when you see the carpet and the cushions and the lounge chairs and the curtains and the dining room furniture, all covered in stains. Thank God I can’t open my eyes, so I can’t see the mess this place is in. I feel like laughing when I imagine the look on your face when you walk in...
74
Of all of Lolo’s kids, I’ve never liked Lolito and Hortensio and I’d never do anything for them, not in a million years, even though they are my nephe
ws. They’re just like their papá in many ways – disorderly, looking for a fight, good for nothing and womanisers. Except that they don’t drink, like Lolo. Lolito and Hortensio are into marijuana, and who knows what other, stronger stuff. Once they put Lolito in jail ‘cause he had a wad of marijuana in the car. As usual, Natalia coughed up with a heap of money to get him out. He’s a real hypocrite. He swore by all that’s holy, on his mamá’s grave and God knows what, that He would never look at a joint again, let alone smoke one. And do you think he kept his word, Señor Solicitor? Of course not, in less time than it took to swear he’d stay clean, he was back to his old tricks again. Those boys grew up crooked; and “as the twig is bent, so grows the tree”, and not even their mamá could straighten them. They never respected Lolo and they used to confront him as if they were his equals. Tell me, when have you seen such behaviour?
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