The Dog Fighter

by Marc Bojanowski

  Very sore. I said as I eased down into the pillows on my bed.

  What happened?

  Javier sat beside the bed. I felt him wanting me to explain but I knew that Jorge would tell him soon enough and this was fine with me. I did not want to talk about her then.

  I thought that this was no longer with me. I answered instead to ease the silence between us. You know that this is not how I am. It is not how I want to be.

  But what you did.

  It was wrong.

  Many disagree.

  Many have never had their hands around the neck of a man until the muscles give. The thief nodded after I said this. I want you to tell the poet that you saw me. Tell him I was walking in the hills and that I stopped you and asked for the time.

  For the time? The thief smiled.

  Tell him. Tell him I was picking flowers. And if he calls me a fool tell him that I said he would say this. And then tell him that I will be to see him soon enough.

  Are you sure my friend?

  Positive.

  During the days at the compound I listened to the cleaning woman sweep the tiles around the blind mother of the dentist sitting in the courtyard. She sat in silence. Her world the courtyard. I wondered how she pictured this in her mind. How she pictured herself. I wondered that if to be blind was to live in a dream. The lines around the mouth of the dentists mother were deep from years of silence. When I asked him why she was so quiet he answered that she had always been this way.

  Some are as terrified of their words as the sound of their own voice and the effect it will have on others. He said. She worries that she will be misunderstood.

  I told the dentist that I understood. I suppose that like myself the words his mother kept behind her brow were tongues of lightning. Her hands were still in her lap. Her head tilted slightly to the sounds of palm fronds pressing air around their edges as little birds chased one another from limb to limb. Tiny seeds ringing sharply off the tiles below. Some days I sat in a chair in the cool of the back room studying her. Listening for what she was listening to. Imaging how beautiful it was to hear the world and from the sounds compose images of it for myself. But then her chin came down to her chest and she dozed and I realized that it was me listening carefully. That I did not see how life is much more simple than I allowed myself to think.

  I felt much better. My arms were sore from lack of use and the bite on my arm was a yellow bruise that the dentist worried might be infected. Sitting in the garden I kept my palms flat over my knees. I had no desire to make any more fists. The thought of fighting dogs made me sick to my stomach even when I pictured her there with me. The dentist worked pulling teeth but also he spent time with me in the back room.

  Where are the young men? I asked him once.

  You need the quiet. He said. They will return.

  I do not think it will be safe for me to stay here much longer. I told him.

  No. He clucked his tongue and wagged his finger at me.

  I am a threat to you and your mother.

  You are a friend dog fighter. Do not bother yourself over this.

  I saw terrible things in my fever.

  You were talking more than I have ever heard you talk before.

  What did I say?

  It was difficult to understand. You spoke to her very much though.

  I looked to the tiles that made the floor and smiled to myself.

  You have no reason to be embarrassed. The dentist said. You should hear the things I say to Javier. I wish I had fever for an excuse. We both laughed a short laugh at this and then Jorge said. Love makes us cling to our words dog fighter.

  I cannot think of a way to be with this woman. I said then.

  You are in a dangerous situation my friend. Cantana thinks very highly of you now. But if he were to find out that you desired his mistress he would use this as power over you. You cannot trust this man. No matter how generous he may seem. Remember. The rich have much they are willing to lose to gain in the end.

  I sat on my bed admiring the creaks of the windmills beginning slowly to turn with the coming of the evening wind. In the distance the cathedral was full of shadows as the sun was heavy on the side of the mountains to the west. Dark birds circled the towers. Across the way a man came onto a roof. He ducked under clothes drying on a line and then made his way carefully over the fragile tiles. He came to a radio antenna and turned it. Someone called to him from below. He held his hands to the antenna and then let go. As if his hands affected the radio. On his way back down the man stopped and looked around himself. He seemed pleased with what he saw before returning below.

  One day not long after this I was reading one of the poems the poet had given me in English. I was practicing the words.

  Las góndolas sin remos. De las ideas cruzan. El agua tenebrosa. De tus iris quemados.

  It felt good to say the words again. For me English is a challenge and a secret. That day I enjoyed recognizing words I knew and what they meant and how they were similar to words in Spanish that I knew. I will not lie and say that I understood the meaning of many of these poems but with time I came to small realizations. And I think that would be enough for the poets who wrote them. That I spent the time with the work and gave some thought to it even if I did not realize it as a whole. The words made me anxious to see my friend the poet again.

  When the knocking came I was dozing with a book on my chest. It came to me hard and loud. I hurried down to the courtyard holding my side. I heard Jorge pleading with him to go before I saw Ramón standing in front of the blind mother waving his hands. The mother followed the voices in the air around her confused. Ramón laughing to himself.

  Ramón! I yelled and it hurt to raise my voice.

  Look at you! The slender dog fighter stepped back and opened his arms. His eyes glassy and wild. It was not like him to be unshaven. His shirt unbuttoned and fingernail scratches on his chest down from his neck. He was drunk. Look at you walking like an old man. He said to me. Vargas would be happy to know that at least he hurt you some.

  Ramóns words were sharp. I did not know how to respond.

  What do you want? I asked.

  What if I just wanted to check on you? To see how my friend is healing.

  I would not believe you.

  Go to the back room! Jorge hissed at us.

  Ramón motioned as if to hit Jorge but Jorge did not move. Ramón laughed at this. His balance unsteady.

  Go! Jorge hissed again.

  I looked to the dentist with apology in my eyes. Before following me to the back room Ramón snapped his fingers at the side of the mothers head.

  We buried the fugitive today. He said to me.

  I looked at him confused.

  Can you believe it took us this long to get the money for the burial? You did something awful to him. I barely recognized his ugly face.

  I was quiet. Ramón ran his finger over the Victrola and then began looking through the records.

  He smelled worse than he did when he was alive. Ramón laughed. I did not know that was possible.

  Where is he? I asked.

  The cemetery. We took turns shoveling dirt to save on the cost. Then we stood over his grave trying to think of nice things to say but none of us could. And so then we started laughing. No one in the cantinas wanted to pay for his funeral. And each time we had enough money we drank it.

  Who?

  Elías and me and some of the businessmen who could stand him.

  Why are you telling me this? I asked Ramón.

  You are not curious about what you have done?

  I did not know that you and Vargas were such good friends.

  No. We were not. But he was not as bad as they said.

  I heard that he spit at the feet of Cantanas mistress. That he licked her ear and called her a whore.

  Ramón looked up from the records smiling.

  I come here thinking I will get to share with you all the good secrets only to find out you know them all already.
My friend the maricones you live with here have sharp ears. Ears to the walls and streets? Did they tell you who saved you from the police?

  What do you want Ramón?

  Again with this what do I want. Ramón joked. He straightened some when he realized that I was serious. Cantana is anxious to thank you my friend. To shake your hand and say job well done.

  And you are his messenger?

  We are friends.

  Cantana has no friends.

  He said he would give me some money if I did.

  Ramón smiled. Held up a record to the light and checked the cover for dust. I wanted him to leave. I knew that he made Jorge nervous and I did not know if I had the strength for another fight. I knew only one thing I could do to make him leave.

  Do you still dream of the teeth Ramón?

  He leaned toward me then.

  I am the better fighter. He hissed. I may die by the teeth but I will have fought all my fights against them. This is more than your strength can ever do. And besides. He brought his shoulders back. Raised his chin. The women prefer me.

  As Ramón walked through the courtyard to leave he paused by the blind mother and bent to whisper in her ear. As he spoke he looked me in the eyes and smiled again. The blind womans hands went to her mouth. She stood as he left and walked in circles shrieking. The dentist and cleaning woman ran to her side. She yelled words we did not understand. Finally they coaxed her to her room where for the rest of the day she mumbled prayers until exhausted she slept.

  The next morning I went to the poet at his stall in the market. I was anxious to see this to some end. When the children saw me they wrapped themselves around my legs playfully. I did my best not to grimace in pain. Not to let them see how weak I had become.

  We cannot talk here. The poet said to me. Let us go for a walk.

  We walked slowly to the malecón and then north toward the hotel.

  I thought you left our city for good my friend. The poet said. His gray hair wild. His face tired but eyes restless.

  I would have said good bye.

  I figured you had more important things.

  Like what?

  Hiding from the police. Ghosts of dead husbands and fugitives haunting you.

  He patted my shoulder and smiled.

  It is good to see you. I said sitting down on one of the benches.

  And you? He smiled. How are you?

  I have some broken ribs. But otherwise I am healing fine.

  What an incredible fight it must have been. Do you know what people would have paid to see such a fight?

  Not as much as I would have paid not to be a part of it.

  Have you seen Cantana since?

  I would not visit Cantana without visiting you first.

  We were not sure.

  No. I have not seen him. Javier. And Ramón. But that is all.

  When did you see Ramón?

  Yesterday. He came to tell me that Cantana wants to meet.

  When?

  This afternoon. Do you think this is a bad idea?

  No. If he wanted you dead he would have let the police have you. This is good for us. The poet lit a cigarette. Wiping ash from the front of his shirt. I heard you chauffeured the limousine.

  I was driving us. Not just him.

  The small pickpocket told me.

  Was he able to take the businessmans money?

  Of course. The poet boasted.

  And?

  Not as much as he hoped for.

  The smell of the water in the bay made me want to swim. The wind warm. The bay calm and inviting. The boys in their canoes called to me for a race. I waved back without thinking and it hurt my side.

  We have missed your company at the salon. The poet said. The boys there want to hear of your fight. There had been some talk of slitting the fugitives throat in his sleep. None of them liked him very much.

  How is Guillermo? I asked.

  Old. Angry. Drunk.

  And Guillermo? I smiled.

  I am fine too. Like I said. We miss you.

  At the end of the malecón the skinny cats sunbathed on rocks. Glass bottle mouths showed like tiny dark eyes when the waves receded. Across the way at the hotel the men were working. The scaffolding was tremendous. The crane placed at the center of the hotel now lifted materials from the outside to compose the building from within. Some of the lower walls had been built in. Openings for windows yet to be filled. I pointed to a corner where a new tractor slowly plodded. The poet squinted.

  A ship came in with them several days ago. He said. Cantana must have contacted the Americans the night of the fires.

  He wasted no time.

  He cannot afford to.

  And the young men? Have they been busy?

  Only rumors. The poet smiled.

  We stood quietly. Some cats had wandered up before us on the rocks and lay licking their paws before bringing them down over the ends of their scarred noses. The voice of the construction on the hotel was wordless but it came to us over the field as a voice the same. Even and defined. Its own. I missed the voice. It was one that I had been used to. I spent my days walking and thinking to myself so much since I had begun fighting dogs. I thought that maybe I should have just stayed with the work. That I was doing well enough without fighting dogs. But it had been worth it to encounter her.

  When I worked there. I said to the poet. At night after all the men had gone I slept on the top floor. I woke in the morning with the sun on the sea and the rooftops and it was the most beautiful and difficult thing.

  I have no desire to go to the top of that thing. The poet said simply.

  I was not inviting you.

  Yes you were.

  I looked away from him.

  Let us go. The poet reached up and rested his hand on my shoulder. We have much to do before you meet Cantana.

  That afternoon Cantana sat alone at a table in the plaza where I had met him before. He held a cigarillo in his gloved right hand. Several children sat at a table next to him sipping Mexican hot chocolate from cups larger than their hands. They ate cut melon with wet fingers. Their smiles very large in the reflection of the businessmans sunglasses.

  My friend. Cantana stood and opened his arms as I came near to his table. How are you feeling?

  Better. I said. I am sorry I have not been to see you sooner but I felt well only recently. He stopped my explanation by waving his hand and offering me a seat. Ramón told me all that you have done for me. I want to thank you.

  It was nothing. Have you eaten?

  No. But I am fine.

  Nonsense. Look how skinny you have gotten. Will you be able to fight?

  Of course. I smiled but I do not think he was convinced. I had not thought about the fighting yet. The moon was only days from being full.

  I do not believe you. Cantana said.

  He then ordered one of each item on the menu. When the waiter brought the plates of food the children continued using their hands to eat. When their small bellies were full and bloated they played with the food on the plates as the waiter watched in disgust. Cantana laughed. He did not have to pick up after the children. And once he was gone it was the waiter that would have to deal with the children all day bothering his customers and stealing from their plates.

  During the meal Cantana ate little but smoked throughout. Talking of the hotel and progress made there. I was relieved that he spoke nothing of the fugitive. That Vargas spit at her feet and called her a whore was unsaid between us. When I mentioned Ramón Cantana only lit a cigarillo and waved the subject away with his hand. This gesture of his never ceased to bother me.

  I sent for you because I want to take a drive.

  Of course. I said. To where?

  Mendozas. He has something I think you might like to see. We will go the day after the fight. I trust you to drive me.

  Knowing that this was the opportunity the old men were waiting for I told him I would be happy to drive. I worried that in my agreeing I was giving my sec
ret away. But Cantanas face displayed nothing.

  Ramón will join us. He only said.

  You think Ramón will want to visit Mendoza? I asked.

  Why not?

  The teeth.

  He has beaten them every time. Besides he and Mendoza are friends.

  I knew this was not true. I wondered why Cantana wanted Ramón to be with us. I was not comfortable with this especially feeling so weak.

  After I sat with Cantana for a while more Elías came to the table from a place I did not see him or expect him but realized then that he had not been far the entire time. We shook hands and then he whispered in Cantanas ear.

  I must be going dog fighter. He explained. Business. Always business. I will see you at the fighting?

  Yes.

  I will have plenty of money on you as usual.

  I will not let you down.

  Bueno. Guillermo said when I told him of the drive to Mendozas. Several young men stood by the entrance to the salon. They looked to us wondering what was said. You will kill him and then you will kill Mendoza. The veteran continued.

  And Ramón? I asked.

  If he gets in the way. The poet said.

  I do not think he will stand by while I kill Cantana. I said. Mendoza will not either.

  Do not worry about Ramón then. Guillermo said to me. We will think of something. But that is when you are to do it. When you are at Mendozas.

  What about the Americans? I asked.

  We have plans for them of our own. Guillermo winked.

  Find out what you can. The poet said. If Cantana mentions them and it makes sense not to kill him then do not. But only if he mentions them.

  Make sure this works for us. Guillermo interrupted.

  On the night of my sixth fight it was only to be myself and Ramón who fought. None of the men brought in on the ferry from Topolobampo for work on the hotel were willing to fight. With word of the attacks on the hotel fewer men were willing to come and work. Guillermo and the poet were winning their war from the shadows. Now they only had to wait for me to end it all with Cantanas murder.

  They are anxious to see you out there dog fighter. Ramón said when we sat together in the small room on the rooftop. They expect to see scars on you from your fight with Vargas. To see how he left you.